Busy, busy, busy, and suddenly I started writing three fics at once, and I can't handle that. So I finished Nooks and Crannies first, and now I can finish this one, because there's only two chapters left and I better get this done before the hiatus is over. Guess I didn't make my deadline. New deadline: April 10th. That also goes for the other one I'm working on. I'm in a lot of trouble. Oh the things I get myself into.
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.
Practical Magic
-by HappyValentina
Chapter six: The call
Kurt ran all the way into town.
He ran because he was afraid he'd change his mind and go back, and then he'd never be able to live with himself. So he ran until there was no turning back.
"It was Puck's ring," he said, as soon as he spotted Blaine walking briskly around town.
Blaine turned, unsurprised. "Is that so?" he said flatly, not slowing down as Kurt tried to catch up.
"I know you already knew that, but I had to tell you myself."
"Yeah well..." Blaine hesitates, shaking his head. "Look, I was serious back there. You better get yourself a lawyer before you speak to me."
"I don't want a lawyer," Kurt said firmly.
Blaine stopped and looked at him in the eye. Kurt returned the look, unwavering.
"Alright," Blaine said with a sigh, and led the way to the inn where he was staying.
He opened the door and let Kurt inside his room. Blaine blushed a little as Kurt glanced around. The room was a little unkempt, with some clothes lying around, and his work spread out on several surfaces.
"Uh, obviously I wasn't expecting company..." he said awkwardly, putting his clothes out of sight. "Have a seat."
Kurt distractedly picked up a photograph from a small bunch lying on the bed. Blaine immediately took them away.
"Here, let me get those..." Blaine mumbled, casually taking the photograph from Kurt, along with the pile from the bed. When he did, he revealed Kurt's letter, on the bed, and watched Kurt pick it up and open it. As he unfolded it, Kurt noticed that the paper was incredibly creased and crinkled, even a little stained.
"How many times did you read my letter?" he asked, glancing up at Blaine curiously.
Blaine nonchalantly took off his jacket and tried to sound casual, but unable to look back at Kurt. "A few. I have to study all the evidence."
He grabbed a minute recorder from his nightstand and fiddled with it for a second.
"Okay, do you want to sit down?" he asked. Kurt didn't move, just watched Blaine as he pressed record and started speaking into the device.
"This is the testimony of Kurt Owens, June 10th, 2024," he spoke, and looked at Kurt again. "Are you gonna sit down?" he said more pointedly. Kurt tensely walked over to the table near the window and dropped down onto one of the chairs. Blaine sat across from him and held the recorder between them.
"Where is Noah Puckerman?" he asked.
"I think he's in the spirit world," Kurt answered, very seriously. Blaine blinked.
"You think he's dead?"
"No, I think he's haunting us."
Blaine blinked again, while Kurt pulled out the letter and showed it to him. "What evidence did you get from reading my letter?" he asked.
"Did you or your sister kill Noah Puckerman?" Blaine continued, ignoring Kurt's question. Kurt let out a breath and folded the letter again.
"Quinn didn't kill anyone," he said quietly.
"Quinn didn't," Blaine repeated. "Quinn didn't, but you did?"
Kurt didn't reply. He only looked at Blaine, blankly.
"Did you?" Blaine pressed. He let out a long breath, and his face and voice softened involuntarily. "Come on, Kurt, did you?"
Kurt stood up suddenly; he took a few steps and then turned and looked at Blaine again.
"What if I told you I did? What would you do? Would I go to jail for the rest of my life? All because the world is short of a person like Noah Puckerman?"
Blaine swallowed hard, eyes fixed upon Kurt.
"It's not my place or yours to decide how he should be punished," he said, getting up and standing in front of Kurt. "He had to be held accountable."
"Well, he has been punished," Kurt replied hoarsely.
"He has?" Blaine asked, unwillingly revealing a hint of disbelief. Kurt said nothing more, and Blaine sighed walked back to the table, and turned off the recorder. "Look, I really think that we shouldn't go any further until you have a lawyer present."
He came back to stand in front of Kurt, and met his gaze. Kurt's heart started thumping faster.
"Now listen, I understand that you're in some kind of trouble, and you're scared," he started again, gentler. "But if you can be honest with me, and you trust me, and you tell me everything you know, I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure that you're safe."
They looked at each other for what felt like the longest time, and Kurt's mind became a whirlwind, and he didn't understand what he was feeling, but he somehow knew that Blaine was feeling exactly the same. He could see it in his eyes. Their breaths seemed to simultaneously hitch in their throats.
Something clicked in that instant; like a puzzle falling into place. Something in Blaine's eyes sparked with something in Kurt's.
They lunged forward at the same time, closing the gap between them instantaneously; they kissed each other fiercely, hungrily, hands roaming over each other by instinct, pulling toward each other as if they would crumble without the other. Blaine pushed him up against the wall, and Kurt was grateful to have something to hold him up, because his legs were not working properly.
"No, wait, I can't... I can't..." he suddenly said, pushing at Blaine weakly, like he didn't really want to. Blaine stopped as well, breathing hard.
"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, a bit ashamed, but his hands were at either side of Kurt's body, as if he couldn't move away.
"I can't..." Kurt repeated, breathlessly, resting his forehead against Blaine's, his eyes closed, as if to summon the will for self-control. But his actions betrayed him, as he blindingly searched for that connection again. His lips were upon Blaine's again before he could stop himself, and Blaine was not about to deny him anything.
Blaine suddenly pulled him clumsily toward the bed, pushing Kurt down on it quickly. They began tugging at each other's clothes, without breaking the kiss. Kurt managed to get Blaine's shirt open, and his hands caressed his chest instinctively, grappling at the skin, while Blaine ran one hand up and down Kurt's thigh, and the other wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to his body, possessively.
All he could process at that moment was the smell and taste and feeling of Blaine, and all he could hear were their heavy breathing and gasps, and the rushing of blood in his ears, and their heartbeats, deafening, thumping out an odd, fast-paced, synchronized rhythm.
It had been an achingly long time since Kurt had felt like this, since he'd been wrapped up like this with Sam, since he had relished in the feeling of a man's body pressed closely to his, and feeling so out of control, like he was coming undone.
And suddenly a flag went up in Kurt's head, something that was hard to ignore, even with his mind impaired. He forced himself to stop, and his hands cupped Blaine's face tenderly, pausing the kiss, and stilled him. They looked at each other, and something clicked again, in Kurt's mind, when he gazed into Blaine's eyes, like he was seeing them for the first time.
"Eyes like a golden sunset..." he whispered to himself.
And that was it. He felt odd, like someone had removed his entrails, and replaced them with something icy and heavy. He didn't even know what he felt, but he couldn't breathe very well.
"I'm sorry..." he said, "I have to go..."
"But..." Blaine started, but he knew not to protest or follow him. As he watched Kurt leave the room, slamming the door behind him, Blaine felt an overwhelming emptiness.
"But... but people think they're nice..." he mumbled sadly to himself, wondering what his eyes could possibly have to do with anything.
Kurt started on his way home slowly. He'd stop every once in a while, because he was having trouble breathing, and the tears in his eyes wouldn't let him see where he was going.
He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling agonizingly cold. There was a chilly wind blowing incessantly, which was odd for that time of year.
He suddenly heard a strange whisper, like an echo.
"Daddy..."
A cold shiver crept up his entire body as he heard the disembodied voice whimper. He didn't even have to think what it might be. He knew right away.
"Kurt... I need you..." another voice said, trembling, weaker.
"No... no, NO!" Kurt said to himself, as he broke into a run.
Back in his room at the inn, Blaine was changing his shirt, but stopped suddenly and looked out the window. He could swear he heard someone calling him. He was almost certain he did.
Kurt crossed the garden as fast as his legs would carry him, bursting through the kitchen door, and rushing toward the stairs. As he started up the staircase, he heard the thundering of footsteps coming down, accompanied by sobs and shouts. He ran faster, meeting Elizabeth and Kyle halfway up. They ran into his arms, clinging to him, trembling and crying and speaking unintelligibly.
"What is it? What happened?" he asked, looking at their faces, and all over their bodies, relieved momentarily that they weren't physically hurt.
"It's aunt Quinn-"
"Aunt Quinn-"
"I didn't do anything!"
"She's-"
Both children were sobbing and talking over each other, but Kurt understood them.
"Go downstairs, it's okay," he said firmly, and they obeyed. Kurt waited for them to be safely in the kitchen before he continued upstairs, unsteadily, bracing himself for something terrible.
He ran into Quinn's room and found her lying in her bed, thrashing and groaning and gasping, like something invisible was attacking her. But from the inside. Like something inside of her was trying to come out.
Kurt jumped in fright when someone appeared beside him suddenly, putting a protective arm around him. It was Blaine; he had his gun out, pointing it at the source of the noise. Kurt quickly pushed his arm down, and Blaine obliged when he realized it was just Quinn. He watched her, face drawn in confusion .
Quinn's back came off the bed, like she was sitting up, but something grey and wispy seemed to come out of her. She fell back onto the pillows, gasping, exhausted, while above her, a figure materialized from the grey fog. A hazy male silhouette promptly revealed itself to be Noah Puckerman, looking and sounding hollow and dark.
Blaine and Kurt stared in utter amazement and horror.
"Officer Anderson," Puck spoke, his voice like an echo. He stared at Blaine with glowing eyes and smiled. "Just looking at you makes me homesick."
Blaine pushed Kurt behind him, lifting the gun again, and approaching carefully. He stopped in front of Quinn's bed, eyes widening when he realized Puck definitively didn't look like a normal person should.
A terrified Kurt started moving along the wall, keeping his eyes trained on Puck. He had to get to Quinn now.
Puck stood up and cracked his neck, and started pacing around, circling Blaine, like a lion ready to pounce. Blaine, however, stood stock still, eyes fixed on Puck, unable to move. It took him a moment to realize that Puck's glinting eyes were actually on Kurt, who had been quietly circling the room too, keeping a safe distance from Puck. Puck clicked his tongue, as if in reprimanding, and Kurt stopped, standing just behind the headboard of Quinn's bed.
Puck's eyes travelled back to Blaine, and he inched closer with a strange smile.
"What's wrong?" he purred. "Cat got your tongue?"
Quinn reached weakly for Kurt's arm, as he dropped down beside her and clutched her to his chest, while his eyes were fixed on the other two figures.
Suddenly, Puck's hand shot out and reached into Blaine's chest, right through the fabric and the skin, like it was nothing. Blaine howled in pain, paralyzed, while Puck seemed to be trying to wrench his heart out. Kurt watched, helplessly, as Blaine crumbled to his knees, still shouting, but Puck suddenly hissed and pulled back, staggering backwards and holding his hand out. There, burned deep and raw into the palm of his hand, was a star-shape. Blaine's badge fell to the floor out of his jacket pocket as Blaine himself fell forward onto his elbows, gasping for air.
Realizing what had happened, Blaine scrambled for the badge and held it open, just as an angry-looking Puck lunged for him again. Puck recoiled at the sight of the badge (or maybe it was his own reflection in the shiny surface), and he had barely taken five steps when he became a large, dark cloud of smoke and vanished.
Kurt was breathing very hard, feeling Quinn trembling in his arms, and his heartbeat was deafening. Blaine got up very slowly, still feeling a little weak, and looked back at the siblings, confusion etched deeply in his face.
"Someday... you'll explain this all to me..." he said breathlessly, tucking his badge back into his jacket.
But Kurt had absolutely no idea what had just happened. He was just glad it was over. Quinn curled further into Kurt's arms.
It was almost nighttime. The waning daylight revealed a thin crescent moon. Blaine sat on the porch steps and stared up at it intently, trying to keep his eyes focused on something, because he was still pretty frazzled. He ran a thumb nervously over his lips and breathed in the night air, trying to calm down.
He heard Kurt come out the front door, and Blaine stood up too quickly, that he nearly lost his balance.
"What was that, Kurt? I mean... that was him, wasn't it? Is it... what is it? Is he gone, or what?" he asked, trying not to ramble but failing miserably. Kurt wasn't faring much better, either.
"Yes, you killed his spirit, but I'm the one who took his life," Kurt started, fumbling over his words a little, talking like he'd just ran a mile. "But I will tell you everything you need to know, I'll tell you how I did it, I'll tell you where I buried him, I'll tell you what I did it with, and I'll tell you-"
Blaine got in front of him, because Kurt had started pacing. "Whoa, whoa! Hold on! Hold on... just a second, all right?" he practically had to shout over Kurt to get him to stop, and he put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, but then immediately withdrew it. Kurt looked away.
"One step at a time," Blaine said. "Now, I took an oath to uphold the law, all right? I thought I came here to bring in the bad guy, because generally that's what I do."
He didn't mean to raise his voice, but he was beyond flustered now, and the fact that Kurt wasn't looking at him didn't help. Although if he had been looking at him, it wouldn't have helped either. So instead, Blaine paced a little, and then stopped in front of Kurt again, but purposely avoided his eyes. He took a deep breath before speaking again.
"You asked me how many times I read your letter."
Kurt looked up and nodded slowly. Blaine met his eyes this time.
"I must have read it about a thousand times," he said in a low voice. "I know now that it was your letter, more than anything else, that brought me here. It was you."
Kurt's eyes filled with tears.
"And... I'm all mixed up about that," Blaine finished. Kurt licked his lips and took a shuddering breath before talking.
"The reason that you're here and you don't know why is because I sent for you."
Blaine frowned in confusion.
"When I was little..." Kurt continued, pausing and chuckling lightly because he could guess how ridiculous the next thing he was going to say would sound to Blaine, "I worked a spell, so I would never fall in love."
Blaine's face softened in surprise immediately. For some reason, he suddenly thought about that day, back when he was eight, when he was at his grandfather's ranch; he had been outside riding his pony backwards -he just wanted to see if he could do it-, wearing his cowboy hat and a toy sheriff badge, when out of the sky came a stream of colorful petals, and they rained around him and fluttered to the ground. It hadn't stricken him as particularly odd, but it had made him indescribably happy and he had no idea why. He had never known what that had meant, where those flower petals had come from.
"I asked for qualities in a man that I knew couldn't possibly exist," Kurt continued.
"The star... and the eyes?" Blaine asked, his breath catching in his throat. Relinquishing to an impulse, he reached out to stroke Kurt's cheek, just to get him to look at him. Kurt swallowed hard again.
"But you do."
It felt like the ground had given out from under his feet. He searched Kurt's eyes for reassurance, but found none. Only uncertainty.
"You're saying that what I'm feeling is just... one of your spells?" he asked, not really wanting to know. But Kurt nodded.
"Yeah. It's not real," he answered. "And if you stay... I wouldn't know if it was because of the spell... and you wouldn't know if it was because I didn't want to go to prison."
He spoke stoically, but the tear that managed to spill over betrayed him. Blaine nodded, not knowing what to do or say. He started pacing again, slower this time, but he promptly turned toward Kurt again.
"You know... all relationships have problems."
Kurt laughed, but it wasn't very mirthful. But Blaine was glad to see it. It made him a little hopeful for just a second, until the smile faded again.
"I'm right, aren't I? You don't know, do you?"
Blaine looked down at his feet for a moment, then back up at Kurt. They stared at each other for what felt like ages. But ultimately, Blaine was too confused. He knew he felt something, but now he wasn't so sure what it was, if his mind or his heart or the sight of Kurt's face were playing tricks on him. And he really didn't know.
He looked away, cleared his throat. "Well, why don't you do what you do..." he started, finding his voice finally, "and I do what I do, and..." he looked back at Kurt. "And we'll see where we end up."
Kurt nodded slowly. "Okay," he said tensely.
They stood there for a few seconds, not even looking at each other, and Blaine had to force himself to move. He took a few hesitant steps away, starting down the path along the garden, back toward the town, mentally willing himself to keep going, to not look back. But he gave in momentarily. He turned around when he was at a safe distance, when he wouldn't go back on his steps anymore.
"Curses only have power when you believe in them," he announced. "And I don't."
Kurt didn't say anything. He didn't even look at him. Blaine started walking again.
"You know what?" he said, turning around one last time. "I wished for you too."
He somewhat regretted it instantly, because Kurt's face instantly scrunched up with sadness, the tears he had been keeping at bay suddenly spilling out of his eyes and down his cheeks, his whole frame trembling with quiet sobs. And it took every ounce of willpower Blaine had to not go to him. Because he knew he shouldn't. They both needed time. He had to tell himself that the time would come eventually. So he had to keep going.
Kurt closed the front door and stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths, holding on the doorknob as if it were the only thing keeping him from crumbling down.
He turned slowly, his eyes adjusting to the semidarkness of the living room, and Quinn was standing nearby, watching him, something like pity in her face. She held out her arms, inviting him into them, and he did. The fear and the sadness slowly vanished, at least a little, because Quinn was there. Quinn was okay.
Or so he thought.
"Hmmm," Quinn moaned, turning her face and licking up the side Kurt's face, long and hard. Kurt cringed and tried to get away, but Quinn's grip was uncharacteristically strong.
"Yeeeeehaaaaaaw..." she whispered, her voice different, huskier, unnatural. It was like an echo. Kurt struggled away from her arms.
"I'm feeling very into siblings right now..." she said, stroking his neck and chest seductively. Kurt slapped her hand away and turned his back on her, breathing hard, thinking fast.
"Dad? Daddy? Can we have a brownie now?"
Kurt spun quickly and delivered a precise blow at Quinn, knocking her hard against the bookshelf, which swayed and dropped a shower of books and ornaments onto her as she slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Elizabeth and Kyle came from the kitchen, finding their aunt crumpled on the floor and their father standing over her, holding up his hands defensively.
"Dad?" they both said, mouths agape, just as the front door opened.
"Shit, I guess we didn't arrive in the nick of time, after all," Aunt Santana said, putting her bags down.
"I guess not," Aunt Brittany agreed, as they took in the scene.
"Our instincts are getting a little rusty."
"Also Lord Tubbington should've reported anything odd to us, like I asked. I'm taking away his cat nip and cigarettes. That should teach him."
Final chapter is next, and I can put this behind me.
I realize now that I wish I hadn't done this fic so much like the original film. But I just love the film so much, and recently have seen the characters fit in the roles so well, that I couldn't resist. Maybe next time...
Thanks for reading. Have a good day.
-Valentina