At the end of this chapter, I'd like to apologize for a few things that I'm doing with this story. I hope you will forgive me.
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 three: Only the moon
It had been days since they moved in with the aunts. Not much had changed in those days.
Kurt lay under the covers, feeling the most tired he had ever felt. He only woke up when he felt someone come into his room.
"Dad?" his daughter Elizabeth asked from the doorway. She was dressed and ready for school, her backpack on her shoulders, and she walked up to the lump under the covers. "It's time for us to go to school."
The lump didn't move.
"Daddy..." she tried again, dropping her backpack at the foot of the bed and walking around the bed. "It's the same time as yesterday... and the day before that, and the day before that," she announced playfully.
There was not a stir. Elizabeth lifted the end of the covers and poked her head in. "Out of bed, sleepyhead!"
Kurt still didn't move. He just listened. Elizabeth finally climbed onto the bed and started talking to the head of the lump.
"Dad, I'm worried about Kyle," she started saying in a whisper. "Do you know that he puts on his tiger mask and drives around town all drunk? Naked?"
Kurt chuckled quietly.
Seeing no reaction, Elizabeth resigned herself and sighed. "All right... I'll see you around."
Just as she got off the bed, Kurt came out from under the covers, grabbed the back of her coat, and pulled her back onto the bed with him. Elizabeth gave a squeal of surprise and delight and fell back, as Kurt flung the covers over them and they snuggled underneath.
"Mmm, I'm sorry, honey. I'm just so... tired..." he said.
"It's okay, daddy," Elizabeth said. Kurt smiled and planted a bunch of kisses on her cheek. He loved his kids, they kept him going even when he felt like every ounce of energy had left him. Elizabeth was remarkably like his sister when she was seven, and Kyle had Sam's spunk.
Thinking about Sam, even for only a split second, drained him. He didn't even realize when he fell asleep again, exhausted, nor when Elizabeth snuck out of his grasp and out of the room.
Hours later, he woke up again, and it was already getting dark outside. He flung the covers off, blowing at a stray of unruly hair that was tickling his forehead. His hair and face where the messiest they'd ever been. He hadn't done much for his appearance since it happened; he simply didn't have the energy.
Still unable to get out of bed, Kurt just lay there, looking at his hands. He studied the scar on the palm of his left hand and sighed.
"Quinn..."
Halfway across the country, Quinn was lying in bed, awake, holding her right hand up to the candlelight and running a finger over her own scar.
"Kurt..." she whispered to herself, feeling oddly uneasy. She knew something was wrong.
She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed.
"I was just thinking about you," Noah Puckermand said.
Quinn stood up and lit up a cigarette. "You're always thinking about me," she mumbled with the tip between her lips.
Puck took a long swig from a bottle of tequila, staring intently at her. Quinn crawled into bed, hovering over him, and kissed him as she pried the bottle from his hand. As she got up again, he followed her and started kissing her neck and shoulders.
"Honey, I just have to go to the bathroom..." she giggled, wiggling out of her grasp. He still followed her, grabbing her arms and talking into her hair.
"Let's go together..." he said in a seductive voice.
Quinn felt uneasy again.
"Puck, come on..." she said.
"I'm just kidding," he chortled, letting her go. Quinn laughed, but walked away quickly. She grabbed her bag on the way.
Locking herself in the bathroom, she sat on top of the toilet cover, put the bottle of tequila on the edge of the sink and propped her bag on her knees. She fished a little bottle from her bag and poured some of the contents into her hand, and then dropped a pinch of it into the bottle. Capping the bottle with her thumb, she shook it so that it would mix really well and inspected her handiwork, satisfied.
She washed her hands and studied herself in the mirror. Her eyes had dark circles underneath; she didn't get much sleep around here. Not with Puck. Apparently she didn't use the belladonna often enough. Her long blonde hair was now streaked with pink, also. She liked it, even if Puck didn't.
All in all, she had changed a lot over the years, but not too drastically. Kurt would be surprised.
She set out just as the sun was starting to rise, making it halfway across the country around noon. At least she'd gotten some sleep before she left. It took long enough for the belladonna to kick in, and for Puck to fall asleep. As long as he kept drinking from the same bottle of tequila, until she got back.
It was only her and the open road, and a lovely radio station. She sang aloud, alone in the car, watching the landscape float by and change, and the day fade away, as she got closer and closer to home.
Kurt woke up slowly, hazily, at the feeling of something tickling the bridge of his nose. His eyes fluttered open, to find Quinn lying beside him on his bed, fully clothed, smiling mischievously at him.
"Hey," Quinn said softly, leaning her head on a pillow. To Kurt, her face was the most glorious thing he'd seen in a while, glowing in the dim moonlight.
"Hey," he said back, forcing a smile. Quinn noticed this, and her own smile slowly faded.
Kurt knew why she was there, why she had suddenly come running to him. And he was glad to have his sister back. He had never needed her like he did now.
"I was really, really happy..." he said, his voice breaking, and he started crying. Without hesitation, Quinn pulled him into her arms and cuddled with him, rubbing his arms and his back comfortingly, while he let it all out, shaking with uncontrollable sobs.
"We were going to open up an organic botanical shop," Kurt explained. "Well, Sam would get all the ingredients, and I'd make the stuff. He really loved my mint-oatmeal shaving cream. He couldn't stop eating it."
It was about an hour later, when Kurt finally stopped crying. Quinn had changed into a sleeping gown while Kurt brought up some tea, and now they were lying in bed, talking endlessly, while Quinn flickered through pictures of Sam and Kurt and their two kids.
"He was really cute," Quinn whispered, staring at a photograph of the two young men, back when they had gotten engaged.
Kurt sat up suddenly.
"I know this must all sound really boring to you," he said. "But he really made me laugh."
"I'll bet," Quinn replied, as she continued looking at pictures.
"I like your hair, by the way," Kurt said.
"No, you don't," Quinn chuckled. "You're just saying that."
"No, I'm not. Pink suits you."
"Aunt Brittany would freak out. She loves our blonde hair."
"Probably not. She'd say something like 'you look like a jolly rancher, your hair looks yummy'."
Quinn laughed, and Kurt laughed with her, and he felt the heaviness in his chest lifting, little by little.
"So do you really think the curse only affects men?" Quinn asked, sitting cross-legged with her back to Kurt, while Kurt combed her blonde and pink hair. They sat facing the mirror from Kurt's vanity, so that they could see each other's faces.
"I think that may be it. I think Maria cursed men only, because she was betrayed by one," he answered. "And that's why aunt Santana has survived all this time... But I don't think she knows that. I think she still thinks she's too clever to be defeated by a curse."
Quinn nodded slowly. "Makes sense," she said. There was a long pause as Kurt continued to work, and she watched him sadly in the mirror. "I'm sorry, Kurt."
Kurt chuckled. "Sorry that I'm gay or sorry that there's no loophole to this curse?"
"The latter," Quinn rolled her eyes. "You know I love you no matter what."
"I know," he said, tugging a her hair playfully. He finished the braid and she inspected his handiwork with a smile.
They both plopped down on the pillows. "And I think it's awesome that we both like boys the same, but we'll never really have to fight over them," Quinn continued. "They either go for you or they go for me."
"That's true," Kurt said. "Considering the amount of openly gay men in this town, I'm guessing you'll always have the upper hand."
Quinn giggled and hit him with a pillow.
"Puck? What kind of name is Puck?" Kurt asked.
Quinn was lying on the floor, in front of the burning fireplace.
"It's a nickname, silly. It's short for Puckerman," she smiled.
"Oh, so it's the same guy," Kurt said, remembering how she had mentioned a Noah Puckerman in a letter ages ago. Sadly, as he had become too entertained with married life and parenthood, the letters between them had become fewer.
Quinn nodded. "He has this whole badass cowboy thing going on," she explained, toying with the hem of her nightgown. "He's just so intense. I mean... sometimes we just stay up all night, worshipping each other."
Kurt grinned skeptically, and Quinn ignored him.
"Thank God for aunt Britt's belladonna. Or I'd never get any sleep," she said with a wink.
"Why are you taking that stuff?" Kurt frowned in confusion.
"I'm not using it. I'm just giving it to him every now and then, that's all," Quinn shrugged.
Kurt raised an eyebrow. "So you're... you're drugging your boyfriend to get a little shut-eye? Doesn't that seem a little strange to you?"
Quinn shrugged again. "Maybe," she said. She thought about it for a moment, and added, "and he's strong. So much stronger than me..." She looked away from Kurt. "He can survive the curse."
Kurt didn't say anything for a moment. He stared blankly at his sister. Whatever made her think that was even possible, he had no idea. But he wasn't about to tell her that.
A few hours later, when exhaustion was finally overcoming them, they cuddled under the blankets and sheets and lay facing each other inside their weird cocoon. They both sighed contentedly.
"Do you forgive mom?" Quinn asked quietly.
"Sometimes," Kurt replied.
"But you'll never forgive yourself..." she continued, "unless you get up, and you get dressed, and you brush your goddamned teeth because your breath stinks..."
Kurt burst out laughing, and Quinn snickered.
"And you take care of those little kids."
He smiled and nodded.
"Yeah. You're right."
He then tickled her, and Quinn tried to slap his hand away, but he suddenly got her in a death grip, and the two struggled and laughed loudly and gasped for air.
The fire died in the fireplace, and it was dark again in the room.
Out of their cocoon, Quinn and Kurt drifted off to sleep. With drooping eyes, Quinn watched as Kurt's face became peaceful again.
"I love you, Kurt," she whispered. Kurt moaned in his sleep.
"I love you too, Quinnie," he answered without opening his eyes. She watched him for the longest time, until she couldn't keep her eyes open either.
In the morning, Quinn was gone.
Kurt realized this when he stretched in bed, like a cat, and his limbs didn't collide with anything on the other side of the bed. He opened his eyes and saw the empty spot where Quinn had slept. It was somehow still a little warm. Kurt grabbed the other pillow and buried his face in it, taking in the comforting smell of his sister's shampoo. Wow, how he had missed it.
For the first time, in what felt like forever, Kurt woke up with a smile on his face.
Two weeks later, he was somewhat back to his old self. He looked well put-together, hair flawless, and somewhat cheerful. He was full of energy and hope as he headed into town, and into his new shop.
His brand new, organic botanical shop. They would open in a week, and there was still so much to do, but everything was perfect. Exactly what he wanted. Exactly what Sam had wanted.
He'd gotten Lauren Zizes and Tina Cohen-Chang to work with him. It had been ages since they had been together like this, since school, and he had almost forgotten how awesome they were. Besides being of the few people at school who had never taunted him for being gay or for being a "freak", they were just nice and fun to work with. Tina with her weirdness and sweetness, and Lauren with her badass-ness; they were a perfect team.
They set out arranging stuff on the new shelves. There were all kind of products, from novelty soaps to scrubs to shampoos and conditioners, and reusable totes designed by Kurt. They all bore the shop's logo, which he had also designed himself.
Early in the afternoon, Elizabeth and Kyle suddenly appeared outside of the shop, making faces and pretending to have a very comical argument and pressing their faces up to one of the windows, all attempts to get their father's attention. Lauren and Tina laughed, and Kurt smiled at them.
But they weren't the only ones outside.
"How's your wicked daddy doing?"
The rest of the kids were also out of school, and for some reason they had nothing better to do than swarm around the Owens children and taunt them.
Kurt stopped what he was doing when he heard the all too-familiar chant.
"WITCH! WITCH! YOU'RE A BITCH!"
"WITCH! WITCH! YOU'RE A BITCH!"
"WITCH! WITCH! YOU'RE A BITCH!"
"Oh for crying out loud," he said, noticing the commotion outside. "You'd think after 300 years, they'd make up a better rhyme," he muttered, while Lauren and Tina watched him go, following the scene from inside the shop.
Kurt rushed out, in time to stop the fight. He lifted Kyle by the waist, pulling him off a boy of the same age, while he tried to pry Elizabeth away from another kid.
He knew that boy, the instigator. That was Jeremy Hudson-Berry.
He should have known. Like mother like son.
And it wasn't long before Jeremy's mother was making her way to the scene as well. Because Rachel Berry always had to show up at the most inappropriate times.
"Really, Kurt, I'm sure your troublemaker started this," Rachel said, in that same know-it-all tone that she'd had since high school. Kurt rolled his eyes. Beside them, Kyle was trying not to cry.
"I hate you, Jeremy!" Elizabeth shouted angrily from behind her father, crying and pointing a finger at the boy.
"Put your finger down, Elizabeth!" Kurt warned her, but Elizabeth struggled.
"I hope you get-"
Everyone cringed, including Kurt.
"-CHICKENPOX!"
Rachel gasped, and they stared at Elizabeth's outstretched finger pointed at Jeremy's face, and Jeremy looked terrified as his mother clutched at him and pushed him behind her.
"Elizabeth!" Kurt shouted.
Everyone gasped and recoiled, children and adults alike.
Kurt looked thoroughly embarrassed as Rachel stared at him with a mixture of horror and anger, and led her kid away. The other mothers present also pulled their kids along, eager to get away from the scene.
"She was just kidding, she was just..."Kurt apologized futilely.
"No, she wasn't, dad! She was not kidding," Kyle said, as Kurt pulled both his children back in front of the shop. He looked down at his daughter, upset.
"What's the matter with you? We do not cast and we do not toy with people's lives. Do you understand? This is not a game."
Elizabeth was still crying, and she was angry, and she didn't care for what her father had to say.
"No, you don't cast! You probably couldn't, even if you tried!"
Before Kurt could reply, Elizabeth grabbed her brother's hand and pulled him away, headed home.
Kurt stared after them, concerned, as Kyle glanced back at him once.
"He has all this power and he doesn't even use it," he heard Elizabeth complain.
"I think you really hurt dad's feelings," he heard Kyle say.
That evening, when he got home from work, Kurt came in through the front door, and listened to the voices in the kitchen. He followed them quietly.
"Elizabeth thinks that any man who marries her is going to croak," Kyle was saying.
"That is such bullshit," aunt Santana said.
"I don't think you're supposed to say 'bullshit' in front of the kids," aunt Brittany said.
"Ugh, you're right. Kids, forget I said 'bullshit'. Or your dad will kill me."
"What about me? If I marry a girl, will she die too?"
"Oh, Kyle, you shouldn't worry over such things, at least for a very long time."
"What about grandpa Burt and grandma Elizabeth?" Elizabeth pointed out.
"Grandma Elizabeth died of a broken heart, didn't she?" Kyle asked.
Brittany saw Kurt coming into the kitchen and standing by the staircase, silent.
"How could she do that?" Elizabeth asked. "Leave dad and aunt Quinn behind when they were just little kids?"
"Why won't he ever talk about it?" Kyle pried.
"Was daddy good at spells when he was a little boy? How come he doesn't do spells now?"
Kurt stepped fully into the kitchen. "What's going on in here?"
Santana looked a little surprised, or rather, like she had been caught doing something bad. So did the kids. Brittany, however, smiled pleasantly.
"Nothing. Just making toast, that's all," she said.
More toasted bread popped out of the toaster with a friendly ting. Brittany grabbed one and started smearing strawberry jam on it.
Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Did you guys finish your homework?" he asked the kids. They both nodded.
"There's a storm coming. I want you guys to go check all the windows for me, okay?"
Again, the children nodded, and got up. Kurt kissed them both in turn, and they scampered away.
"Making toast?" Kurt asked skeptically. Santana took a playful bite of hers.
"I want you both to watch what you say to those kids. I don't want you filling their heads with any of your nonsense, okay?" Kurt warned them.
"We'd never tell them nonsense, dear," Santana said with her mouth full. "Well, I speak for myself, obviously. If you don't like unicorn talk, then I don't think you can rely on that one," she added, pointing at Brittany, who grinned.
"Unicorns are not nonsense. They're just very guarded."
"Good night," Kurt said pointedly, and headed up the stairs.
Dearest Quinn:
Sometimes I feel there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean.
And the moon tonight, there's a circle around it. A sign of trouble not far behind.
I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night, wanting.
But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for.
I just want someone to love me.
I want to be seen.
I don't know. Maybe I've had my happiness.
I don't want to believe it, but there is no man, Quinnie.
Only that moon.
Kurt stopped every few times in the middle of writing, to stop the spoon stirring on its own inside his tea mug, and take a sip, feeling the comforting warmth. He stopped a few times also to peer at the moon.
He vaguely remembered when he used to write happy letters to Quinn. Letters bearing good news, sometimes trivial news, but joyful nonetheless. His wedding, when they got their first house, when Elizabeth was born, when Kyle was born, when each said their first words, their first birthdays, going to school for the first time...
He read the letter over. Sometime ago a part of him had died when his husband did, and he couldn't even remember what it had been like to be so happy. This person that wrote this kind of letter, this poetic sadness, that wasn't him.
He didn't reread the whole thing, he just folded it neatly and put it in an envelope.
He blew at a candlewick to light it, something he hadn't done in ages, and found he could still do it perfectly. The flame flickered to life. He hadn't allowed himself to do magic when all he had wanted was to fit in. But magic chased him around anyway.
Kurt grabbed a stick of dark wax and held it over the flame, to melt the tip. He then placed the tip over the flap of the envelope and let it drip. He then pressed the stamp seal with his name initial to the wax, and waited for it to dry.
With a sigh, he walked downstairs and out the door. Wrapping his robe tightly around him, he walked down the path to the white picket fence, and dropped the letter inside the letterbox.
Glancing once up at the moon again, he let out a long breath.
"Only the moon..." he said to himself.
As he turned to walk back toward the house, he heard the phone ring. There was a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Quinn..." he whispered, and sped up, rushing back into the house. His heart pumping fast and loud in his chest, he ran into the kitchen to pick up the phone.
"It's Quinn-" Brittany said -intuited-, as she was just coming down the stairs.
"I know," Kurt replied briskly, lifting the receiver before it could ring a third time. "What's wrong?" he said into it, sounding a lot more flustered than he would've wanted.
There was a crackle on the other side, and Quinn's voice could be heard faintly, because the line was bad, and because she was whispering.
"I'm scared... Can you come and get me?"
It sounded like she was crying.
"Where are you?" Kurt asked urgently.
He was a little later coming down the steps, having changed out of his pajamas, and wrapping a scarf around his neck.
"I'm taking the first flight out. I'm gonna need you to watch the kids for me," he announced.
"Yes, of course, Kurt, just go to Quinn. The children will be fine," Brittany said.
"We'll take them to the solstice celebration," Santana added, and Brittany looked excited.
"No no no no. Why can't you just stay here?" Kurt asked, rummaging for his keys in his bag.
"Oh, honey, we can't back out at the last minute. We're on the committee," Santana explained.
"Yes," Brittany said.
"We're presenting."
"That's right."
Kurt huffed in resignation. "Fine, but I don't want them dancing naked under the full moon."
"No, of course not, dear. The nudity is entirely optional. As you well remember," Santana said, as Kurt rushed out the door.
"I don't think he believed us," Brittany said, as the door closed behind him.
"Oh well, he's gone now. Nothing he can do about it," Santana shrugged.
As soon as he got off the plane, he took a cab to the address Quinn had given him. Kurt found himself in the parking lot of a rather rundown motel. He asked the driver to wait, and climbed out of the cab, running straight to the registration desk, which was more like a toll booth in the middle of the parking lot, with tacky fluorescent signs around it. He buzzed several times and knocked on the window. "Hello!" he called impatiently.
"Just a minute!"
It was an annoying delay and a rather long argument with the person in charge, until he was finally informed which room was Quinn's, and he was handed a key.
He climbed a dingy flight of stairs to a balcony, and found room 216. Without knocking, he shoved the key in the lock and opened the door. He glanced briefly around the unkempt room, looking guardedly toward the bathroom, where the light was on.
"Kurt?"
Kurt spun around at the sound of his name and spotted Quinn, sitting in the dark, on the other side of the bed. She smiled at the sight of her brother and looked relieved.
"Hey," she said, as Kurt approached quietly.
"Hey," he said, kneeling in front of her. "Quinn, I'm here."
"Thanks, Kurt."
With the dim light pouring in through the open door, and the light from the bathroom, Kurt tried to have a look at Quinn's face. There was the reason for her fear: a big bruise on the side of her face, near her left eye, which was already turning purple around a small bloody gash. She had obviously been crying, her mascara running down her cheeks in faint tracks.
"The room service here sucks," she joked, sniffling. Kurt stroked her hair.
"Let's get you out of here, come on," he said, helping her up.
"I'm okay, I'm fine," she snickered, getting clumsily on her feet.
Quinn put her shoes on quickly, and Kurt helped her gather her stuff from around the room, packing it all in a duffel bag.
"He's been really crazy, you know? We've been driving for two weeks. Two weeks straight! I mean..." Quinn was explaining as they crossed the parking lot toward the awaiting cab. "No, not even straight, in these zigzags, back and forth- Ow!"
She stumbled, and Kurt grabbed her arm to keep her from falling.
"Damn these shoes!" she said, shoving her foot back into the sandals that wouldn't cooperate. "Then today he says he wants a blueberry slushy. And he says to the kid 'Blueberry slushy, with milk and whipped cream'," Quinn continued, Kurt supporting her as they walked. "And the kid looks confused. And I said, 'Puck, that's not a slushy, that's a milkshake'. Then the kid laughed and I laughed , and then... and then he punched me." Quinn hissed suddenly. "He punched me real hard. The bastard!"
Kurt opened the door of the cab, but Quinn suddenly froze.
"Blood on the moon..." she said, pointing to the sky. Kurt rolled his eyes.
"I know, I know..."
"Blood on the moon. Blood on the moon. Uh..."
"No, no, I know. Get in the car."
"Uh, uh... where's my tiger's eye?" Quinn was suddenly patting around her chest, and looking around the floor, while Kurt was trying to push her toward the car. "No, no, no, I need my tiger's eye. It brings me luck."
"Isn't it in here?" Kurt said, zipping the bag open. Quinn rummaged quickly through the contents, getting more and more restless.
"No, I left it. No, no..."
"Quinn, it's probably in the bag-"
"I've got to go get my tiger's eye!" she shouted, running toward another car nearby.
"It's probably in the bag! Quinn..."
Quinn ran around to the passenger side of Puck's car, the car she always used. It was parked not too far away. She looked through the window.
"Quinn, come on!"
Quinn sighed in relief and pulled the door open, climbing into the passenger side on her knees. Her tiger's eye necklace had been hanging from the rearview mirror.
She started wrapping it around her wrist when two powerful arms wrapped around her and pulled her roughly back, and she squeaked, tumbling backward into the backseat. A hand covered her mouth and she couldn't scream. She just gasped and whimpered in protest as she tried to struggle free.
"Quinn," Kurt said, walking toward the car and leaning down look see inside the door. "Quinn, honey, just forget the-"
He froze. Sitting in the backseat, Noah Puckerman had a hand around Quinn's wrist, and an arm around her neck. Kurt looked at Quinn, and then at Puck, who locked eyes with Kurt.
"You drive," he said coldly.
Okay, here goes:
I'm sorry for making Puck the abusive boyfriend/official bad guy. I wouldn't normally have done it, but in general he first into the role. I love Puck, he's actually one of my favorite characters (as you might be able to tell from another fic I wrote), and I wouldn't have done it otherwise. I guess I decided to draw from the time when he was a bully, but I don't think he would ever be the abusive boyfriend. I'm actually a bit of a Quick shipper. I promise to make up for this in a future fic.
I'm also sorry for making Rachel the stone-throwing bully, and making her son one too. If you have seen the film, you probably know why I did it, and if you haven't, you'll see why in later chapters. I know Rachel has always been the bullied one, but she can also be a bit of a bitch when it comes to dealing with people who might have more talent than her, and we all know she's always felt a bit threatened by Kurt and by Quinn (and to be honest, that's one of the main reasons why I love the character, she's realistic in that way that she's not 100% good or bad ever).
And I'm still so very sorry for making Sam the dead husband. But oh well, the more I think about it, the more certain I am that he was perfect for the role.