XIV

~ Recovering Retreat ~

As the plane touched down onto the Columbus airport strip below, Kurt closed his eyes, his body vibrating in the wake of the brakes decelerating to a final halt. He was home. He had arrived in the city of his birthplace and the state he had spent his entire childhood. Although those particular years hadn't gone swimmingly well for him, it didn't matter. Escapism is what he needed. The company of friends, a movie and a symbolic cupcake hadn't been enough of a change. In Ohio, there were no skyscraper mazes that boasted influential, political and financial power. There were no flashing cameras that caught the emotion in your eye no matter how well you tried to conceal it, but above all, there were no conglomerate heirs haunting Kurt's every step, reminding him of events that had shaken his very own world to the core.

His home town of Lima, which was around two hours away from the capital, was the perfect retreat, though not in the brochure sense. It wasn't a beautiful area by far. The architecture was dated except for a few modern pieces scattered here and there and the local council seemed to have ignored certain areas, covering them up with foliage as if the various shades of green were going to make up for the fact that Lima needed majorly sprucing up. Not a lot of money was being pumped into the town all that much, but Kurt wasn't coming here for the sights. In fact, the look of concrete was the last thing he wanted to see. He longed for greenery, he wished for the scent of the country, he needed his lungs cleared of all the slightly sulfur tinged air that blew across New York. His personal agenda had him returning for his own reasons.

He had of course informed his father, Burt, of his upcoming return, much to the man's enthusiasm. They hadn't seen in other in weeks, and Kurt didn't like to think of his father alone, coming home from work to no one, eating breakfast through dinner by himself, everything done at home with only himself as company. It was a lonely life, which meant that Kurt completely understood when Burt hadn't allowed any second thoughts to cross his mind. He was coming home and that was final, though the reason behind it hadn't been discussed. At the time, his father had been so blind with happiness that Kurt hadn't wanted to dampen his bliss with what had happened in New York, but with the boy now here, stepping off the plane on to the jet way, he began to fear the round of upcoming questions lining up like bullets, ready to shoot him down.

Weaving his way through the many airport terminal stages including the passport booths before clearing customs, Kurt arrived at the baggage claim. The conveyor belt carousel delivered his suitcase at hand and as he wheeled it towards the main foyer, he kept his eyes peeled for his father, his neck craning as he tried to catch a glimpse of Burt's signature baseball cap. Apart from letting his father know of his departure from New York, Kurt had done Carlson a parting favor. The boy had learned from his mistakes, learned to not keep people in the dark and had informed his friend where he would be staying for the next couple of days. Carlson had appreciated being let in on his whereabouts and had promised to pass on the news only when utterly necessary, no exceptions.

Now however, Kurt had worried that people would start hounding Carlson. He feared Noah would barge his way towards him just as he had done so before, demanding where Kurt was less he be throttled against a handrail. However, Kurt had nothing to fear. Carlson was a big boy and had enough power in him to fend off any curious ears, especially those belonging to an heir in an emotionally fragile state. Now though, Kurt was doing his best to rid those plaguing thoughts. All he wanted to see was his father and all his father wanted to see was him, instead of relying on embarrassing childhood photographs of his son wearing no underpants. If only I had been wearing one more item of clothing, thought Kurt as his search was suddenly cut short when out of the crowd appeared Burt Hummel, his father hurtling towards him as his arms spread wide for the hug.

"Dad!" greeted Kurt, dropping his suitcase and remaining bags to the floor as Burt met him head on, enveloping his son in his big arms. It took no time at all for Kurt to sink into the assuring touch of his father but as the hug increased in force, Burt bringing him ever closer, Kurt began to squirm in discomfort. In no time at all, Kurt was sure he was going to meet the same fate as Twinkie The Kid in a Simpsons episode he'd seen. He was going to be squeezed to death, with all his creamy goodness exploding from within. "Every bone shattering… organs leaking vital fluids… slight headache… loss of appetite… dad… you're killing me…"

"Oops, sorry Kurt. I haven't hurt you have I? I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to do that. I just couldn't wait to see you," rambled Burt nervously, letting go of his struggling son as Kurt let out a giant sigh of relief, his body feeling as if he'd just painfully slept in an attic with a one inch high ceiling above his head for a month. For Burt, he'd forgotten how sensitive his son could get if he got carried away with hugs and so, just to relieve Kurt the effort of carting his heavy baggage from the floor to the car, Burt offered his help, his son offering a grateful smile in thanks. "It's alright, I'll take these. Serves me right for breaking you."

"Thanks. I left most of my stuff back in New York since all I need right now are the bare necessities. I want to reacquaint myself with the things I've left behind," replied Kurt, allowing Burt to drop a kiss to his head as the man wound an arm around his slim shoulders before leading them both out through the sliding glass doors. It seemed that Kurt had been telling the truth about the load he'd brought. In fact it was too light a load to be considered a load at all. Yet as Burt inspected his son's appearance more closely, he noticed where it had all gone. Kurt was carrying everything on his drooping shoulders.

"Son? Are you all right? You seem a little dow-"

"I'm fine."

"Kurt, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine dad, I'm just jet lagged."

"Sure you are, Kurt. You know, I didn't want to say this and I mean this in the nicest way possible but, you look like hell," argued Burt, reaching for the car keys, opening up the vehicle and looking back over to his son who was eying him with nothing but an unwelcome glare. If Burt hadn't known any better than he would have guessed Kurt wasn't at all happy to be back, wasn't happy to see him, but he knew better. It looked as though New York had sucked his son dry of his former self, spitting out a boy with a fatigued face, dull and lifeless looking hair and a posture as hunched as a cripple's. Oh dear.

"Thanks for the uplifting meet and greet, dad. How about you pitch the idea of printing off that line to a doormat company. I'm sure it would sell millions," snapped Kurt, Burt rolling his eyes in the wake of the sarcastic comment before placing everything in the boot of the car and shutting the door. Everything was obviously not fine. Who was Kurt kidding? Whenever he was agitated, upset, or even slightly annoyed, sarcastic comments and insults of a witty nature would come flying out, more often than not followed by a guilty apology, like now. "I'm sorry, dad. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I-"

"It's alright son, we've all been there," smiled Burt, patting Kurt's thigh reassuringly as they entered the car, strapped themselves in, the man peeling out of the parking space and towards the exit. Opening up the glove compartment, Kurt pulled out a packet of Madeleine's by Bonne Maman and proceeded to snack on a few, his eyes fluttering closed for a minute before reopening to the whizzing sight of the motorway, everything flashing by as they began their trek on home. However as the silence stretched, Burt felt the need to break it for comfort's sake. "I get it Kurt, something's up... you want to talk-"

"No... no, that's quite alright. I could do with not talking right now."

"Are you sure? Because we both know you don't like radio, and your iPhone's in the back."

"Yes... I'm quite sure."

"It's a long journey. A long tense, awkward joun-"

"Dad, will you stop? I don't want to talk about it," replied Kurt in frustration, shifting his body away from his father to further reacquaint himself with Ohio's scenic landscapes and views, the same picturesque sights he'd seen a few months back on his way to the same airport. Burt, sensing from the finality in Kurt's stubborn tone to his reclusive body language, gave in. He wished for the days he'd spend with his son to be of a pleasant nature, not of one that would relive teenage angst. Though the expression on Kurt's face seemed only to echo that emotion like nothing else. What the hell had happened in that city?

"So... how's the modeling coming along? You're still doing it right?" inquired Burt, looking over to his son as Kurt nodded ever so slightly, his pale hands fumbling with a half eaten slice of Madeleine. They were French traditional small cakes that Elizabeth, Kurt's mother, had hooked their son on back when he had been a child. She'd discovered them on a trip to Commercy, Lorraine in France and had made it her business to add a little culture to Kurt's comfort food. "I only ask because for the past few days, you haven't been keeping me updated as much as you used to. I was starting to worry."

"I'm sorry, dad," apologized Kurt, sighing against the window as he shifted his body to a neutral position, eying the remaining Madeleine's before placing them back into the glove compartment. It was true. He'd unknowingly left his father in the dark after withholding a constant stream of updates. Then again, after a certain ball, maybe it was for the best. "There's just been a lot of drama in my life recently. I mean I thought I'd arrive in New York, do the work experience, have another crack at trying for NYADA, and see what would happen from there. I just didn't expect... it was all unprecedented."

"Kurt, no one can blame you for being overwhelmed by it all," assured Burt, his eyes fixed to the road but occasionally flitting then over to his son as Kurt suddenly grew more agitated, as if he were bursting to reveal something but couldn't, restraining himself from blurting out a mistake. "Living in the big city, surviving on your own, coming here in one piece, albeit a little worn, is a huge feat, son. You should be proud of yourself, and you should know that. Many kids your age would not have the endurance for such a change. I'd thank your independence, because all that, topped with switching caree-"

"Yes, but even if only a limited number of kids my age are able to do what I have done, most of them won't have been invited to a ball at the plaza only to be embarrassed in front of high society, most won't have been chased out of a penthouse by an angry maid and most won't have entered a near adulterous..." ranted Kurt as his eyes grew wide at the realization of what he had just blurted out. This was not good. His father was frowning and looking over at him between intervals and Burt never failed to catch onto things his son would blurt. "... um... just an example of... um... just a for instance... see I know this-"

"Kurt, what you've just listed happened to you, right?" asked Burt, looking over once again at his son who refused to answer, but had one of his hands clasped to his mouth, as if he couldn't trust his face hole to stay shut. Had Burt been given a teasing insight into what Kurt was escaping from? Was he fleeing corruption? The world of drugs, sex and rock and roll? How very sixties of him. "Son, I'm not as oblivious as you think. I listen to what you say, every word but embarrassed, chased out and adultery? What were you doing in New York, Kurt? Joining some sort of underground sexpot cult? Were you even modeling?"

"Of course I was! And no, I didn't join a cult of any kind, don't be ridiculous," replied Kurt in indignation, Burt shrugging as he chuckled under his breath. "You needn't worry dad. Through my work experience, I made some loyal friends who have looked out for me, and through the modeling, I met some others who are nothing but mutant strains of upper east side anal. I've been introduced to a selection of well off crowds who do nothing but consciously cultivate an eccentricity so that people around won't notice they're completely devoid of personality, and I've met some well known faces, one of which-"

"One of which you're running from now, am I right?" guessed Burt, the aloof and slightly arrogant character his son was pulling on, all taking part in the huge failing parade of denial. Kurt could dish it out, he just didn't when to stop. "Look Kurt, no matter how many times you refuse to talk about this, we are going to talk about it, but not now. I think I'll need a drink before you off load it all. It's really just as well I've invited over an audience for your return. I'm sure she'll be of better use at such a time where you look as if you're going to blow from not sharing what has happened with anyone but me."

"I'm sorry, it's just one of those things that... wait, an audience? Please elaborate. Elaborate now."

"Do the words Beyoncé, Ain't no Kelly Roland and Little Oprah mean anything to you?"

"You didn't..."

"Do the words Chocolate Mama, Coffee Queen and R&B's Sugar Girl ring a bell?"

"Mercedes?! You got me 'Cedes?!" shouted Kurt excitedly, Burt wincing as the son proceeded to jump and down in his seat. Burt had wanted it to be a surprise, especially since Kurt had retained a certain gloominess throughout the trip, but he just couldn't help himself. His son had a smile worth working to appear and when it did, it was glorious. "Oh my God! I thought she'd gone to study at the University of California back in September! Don't tell me you lured her back here under the false pretenses that you'd feed her Tater Tots, because right now I am not presentable to be meeting my home girl."

"Don't worry Kurt, I think she'll accept the way you look just this once," chuckled Burt, Kurt pulling down the ceiling mirror as he attempted to gussy up his jet lagged appearance. Not much could be done except ridding the crumbs of French cake from his top and maybe the little arrangement of the hair here and there but apart from that, Kurt really did agree with his father on this one. He looked like hell. Now he remembered why he'd stayed well clear of his high school's teenage angst and drama. It has been the sole outfit he'd tried on to date that had not looked good on him. "After all son, nobody's perfect."

"That only applies to the those who aren't models. When you're a model, that saying no longer applies. In fact, it's the one saying you can't afford to apply," rambled Kurt, maneuvering his belt around himself so that he could twist around the back of his seat, before undergoing a thorough check for any beauty tools of the kind, anything that could whip him up into the effortlessly striking model he was, instead of settling for something that had been caught in a drain. "God damn it... okay... I think I may have lost an old tub of Mac concealer somewhere in this car. If I can just find..."

However, with the feel of his hand across the car's floor to the flick of his searching eyes, Kurt pulled himself back into his seat only to be revealed his home's driveway, the flash of time that had been two hours, whizzing by in the space of several sentences, stunning him into silence. However the sight of the familiar garage door that he'd accidentally run into back in fourth grade was no great distraction from the sight of his childhood best friend, Mercedes Jones.

The black diva was leaning against their front door with her hip cocked out and a bejeweled hand accompanying the pose. Her face was smiling in the wake of their return and she too looked as if years had passed since they had seen each other last. It was just a great sight, and Burt just couldn't help but pat himself on the back in congratulations as his son leaped from the still parking car and bolted towards his friend, his arms outstretched, his body open and his face has happy and as smiling as the happiest child on earth.

.

Glee

.

"Woah Kurt, just give me a second whilst I massage my head free of the knots you've caused with this story of yours," began Mercedes as she lifted her hands to her forehead, rubbing slowly in concentric circles as she willed with all her might for the headache that was knocking at her door to go away. This was not the time. Processing news as gargantuan as this was hard enough as it was without painful distractions. "Okay... um... you're saying you arrived in New York, where you were discovered by accident at your work experience... which lead you to actually become a model? Right?"

Kurt nodded. It had been a few days since his return to Lima, and he had loved every minute of it. Waking up in his old bed with the ice muck scent of fresh linen greeting his senses, allowing his father to ruffle his hair as they both watched Deadliest Catch and lounging around with Mercedes, as they cuddled up under the covers and pretended they were in a dark cave trying to find their way out. Just like old times. The diva had slept over every night, wishing to spend as much time with her gay best friend as possible, before she too had to return to Los Angeles for college, as well as to sing backup for an independent music label she had recently signed up to. Kurt had welcomed the wonderful news with glee but it had only instigated a round of questions and answers on his side that had now lead to this moment.

"You were cast in the The Salvatore Spectacle and went to the after party where you met Noah Puckerman," continued Mercedes as Kurt bit his lip nervously. "You went on a lunch date with Noah Puckerman, got invited to the Balencia Ball by Noah Puckerman, got spoiled with perfume by Noah Puckerman, went over to his penthouse where he said he liked you, kissed you, nearly entered in a secret affair with you, but you broke it off to stay 'friends', which is why you're here for change because you say you can't trust yourself not to go back on your word... what... I mean... what the fuck Kurt?"

"Yes, exactly Mercedes! What the fuck?! What the actual fuck?!" exclaimed Kurt, his hands erupting from his lap as they clasped at his head, as if they too were trying to find some sort of logical explanation for the events over the past months. It was just as well they were in his room, what with it being soundproofed and all, as Mercedes' incredulous tone had increased in volume with each passing word. He understood that she was trying to swallow gargantuan news that lead her eyes to wince and bulge wide, but he was the only one allowed to freak out. "Oh God, I'll have to suffocate myself in my pillow."

"This isn't a joke Kurt, I... I don't know what's got into you. You willingly went ahead and fooled around with an engaged man. Granted you ended it, but what if that maid hadn't shouted at you? Would you be with Puckerman now?" asked Mercedes in despair, Kurt looking down to stare at his duvet in guilt as he sat cross-legged on his four-poster bed. Shuffling closer, the girl lay her hand on his, resting once again in his lap, as she tried to seek an answer from those baby-doll eyes. "And this modeling business. I thought you wanted to do musical theater, sing the show tunes, go to NYADA. What happened to you?"

"I guess... I grew up."

"No Kurt, you've yet to grow up," replied Mercedes as Kurt looked up at her pathetically, the dim light in the room offering slight concealment to the sadness brimming in his eyes. "This is serious. Sure, we make mistakes to learn from them, fine, but you don't make mistakes of that nature with Puckerman. What if Quinn had found out? What if his mom or anyone else at his company had found out? They would have got rid of you. They practically own Manhattan, they could have chucked you out. Bye-bye Broadway. I mean it's just... God Kurt... I just... I don't know what you're going to do."

"I don't know either, Cedes. I feel as if I should do everyone a favor and disappear, just leave and never come back," Kurt cried out as he slumped into his friend's supportive arms. He didn't want his father knowing about what had happened. It would disappoint him and bring shame to their name, something Kurt would strive never to bring. "I've hurt my dad for not trusting him with any of this, I've hurt Quinn even though she doesn't know it yet, I've hurt Noah for not giving him what he wants and now I've hurt both you and me with what I've done. God, I can't stand being a disappointment."

"Shh boo, calm down, take it easy, we'll figure something ou-"

"The worst part is, I wasn't doing anything wrong Cedes, I was just modeling. I didn't ask to meet Noah, but he was all alone and he just called out to me. I didn't know he was going to want more, I didn't even know he went both ways," continued Kurt as Mercedes struggled to retain a comfortable hold around the squirming boy, but even to her, Puckerman's alleged bisexuality was baffling, yet ever so sexy. "God damn it, I'm stronger than this. I graduated McKinley freaking High School for heaven's sake; I shouldn't have to have someone holding my hand through something as petty as this."

"Kurt, this is far from petty. Noah and Quinn will soon be exchanging vows in a house of God, before God himself, vows that he would have broken if this all would have happened later, and you would have been branded every home-wrecking reference in the dictionary," replied Mercedes as Kurt muffled moans sank into her shoulder. "But you have me boo, along with your dad and your actor friends in New York. They seem to really care about you. Especially that Carlson guy. Going out of his way to buy cupcakes to cheer you up. That's a classy touch. You sure he's not a little interested?"

"What? No, Carlson's just friendly like that. He's my protective straight friend who... kissed me once... on the lips."

"My, my, aren't you popular with the New York boys," giggled Mercedes, Kurt smiling light tender-heartedly before letting out a long, drawn out yawn. His exhaustion was to be expected. They'd began the day shopping for fragrance mists at The Body Shop, followed by time trying to ward off hungry pigeons from their lunch, followed by returning to Kurt's kitchen to cook Mercedes' mom's treasured recipe for oatmeal cookies, before finally ending with the evening confession. "I'll let you nap this thing all out but you only get a nap, not a sleep. I want us to cruise the online shopping sites for midnight treasures."

Moaning in confirmation before settling himself comfortably for his nap, Kurt sank into a light snooze as Mercedes climbed off the bed. She made sure not to ruffle it too much before dimming down the lights and heading upstairs to where Burt was watching late night infomercials on the TV. However, it didn't look as if he was giving the screen a whole lot of his attention. A beer was in his hand whilst the other absentmindedly peeled the label off from around the glass, the lack of effort indicating to the diva that Kurt was not the only Hummel suffering from problems. At this point, she felt a little guilty. Here she'd been, hogging Burt's son whilst Burt himself hadn't spent a full day with Kurt. No twenty-four hour father and son bonding time had happened, and with Kurt scheduled to leave soon, it didn't make the situation a whole lot better.

"Hi," greeted Mercedes as she appeared in the living room archway, Burt flicking his head from the flashing screen to meet her eyes. Upon seeing the man's saddened face, Mercedes' guilt worsened. Burt very much looked lost and helpless, such an alien look on him that was not seen all that often, or by the diva anyway. All she got in return was a slight smile and a nod of the head for recognition, before she shifted from her perch and went to sit in the armchair alongside the couch. "Kurt's just dozed himself into a nap. He's pretty out of it. I think he's worn himself out from all that's been happening."

"Maybe you wore him out."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time," smiled Mercedes, Burt accompanying her grin as they laughed quietly, the amusement dying as soon as it had come. Picking up the remote, the man proceeded to mute the volume on the screen before leaning his elbows on his knees and sighing. Mercedes, thinking it was a good time say sorry for hogging Kurt, shifted in her seat and went to open her mouth, but found it hard at first to form the words. She'd never apologized to Burt before. "Look Burt, I want to apologize for taking up all of Kurt's time here. I'm being selfish and I feel like I'm trespassing on time you could be talking with him."

"Maybe it's just as well, Mercedes," replied Burt, as he lifted his head to meet the girl's gaze. There was no resentment in his eyes, or in his voice. It just felt as though he was losing a son, despite it being false. Kurt still very much loved his father. It's just that the boy had always been too proud for his own good. "Being his best friend grants you access to what plagues his mind but me, the parent, it's different. It's always a battle to try and get stuff out, and I don't know whether that's because I'm his father or if it's just Kurt. I never know with my son."

"Give him time, he'll turn around," assured Mercedes as Burt smiled in gratitude before turning the TV off for good. He placed his beer on the coffee table and stood up. Mercedes however, thanked the lord Kurt wasn't here to see it. He'd probably have lectured his father on the lack of coaster present. "He's just told me about everything that's been happening to him as of late and it's... I'm not going to lie, it's pretty heavy stuff. He's just afraid you might take it the wrong way and you know... Just think of me as the test audience, here to ease Kurt into eventually telling you. Although be warned, it has a PG-13 rating."

"Well I did get a teaser trailer of it on our trip from the airport. Words like adultery got thrown around."

"I'm... I'm not going to say anything. It's not in my place to. I'm just going to leave it up to Kurt to tell you."

"I hope so. I just can't help thinking life is making up for all the high school drama he didn't experience, and its throwing it all at him now."

"And in that sense he's lucky. New York City, modeling, parties and... rich men. Our little Kurtie sure is living the life."

"You kids," chuckled Burt as Mercedes rose from her seat and followed Burt into the hallway. Only then did she notice the time on the clock. It was nearly midnight. She hadn't realized she and Kurt had been talking for so long. It hadn't felt it at all. "Right, I'm off to bed. Don't stay up too late, I want Kurt to be alive and awake for tomorrow. I want him to say hi to the guys at the garage, but I won't be able to bring him if he's going to be as sedated as a barbiturate abuser around heavy machinery. He might end up falling into one of the vehicle inspection pits."

"Don't worry, he'll be as fresh as a fruit tomorrow. Goodnight," smiled Mercedes, Burt granting her a 'night' and a parting nod before climbing the stairs and leaving on her own at its foot. With a small click, Burt closed his door. Now there were two Hummels retiring to dream land. Mercedes wasn't tired though. Kurt's confession was too busy keeping her awake as she made her way into the kitchen and prepared two glasses of warm milk. It was a remedy not only for nightmares and when counting sheep simply didn't cut it, but also as a mood elevator, the healthier kind. It was something that had always worked for Kurt on many abusive high school occasions, even though he wasn't a great fan of dairy products after he'd read an article claiming to boast scientific proof that dairy was a direct instigator to a poor complexion. Absolute rubbish.

Pouring the warm milk from the pan into two separate glasses, Mercedes placed both brimming beverages on a tray before switching off the stove as well as the lights as she left the room. Now that most of the lights in the house were out, darkness having descended all around, it just made it that much harder for the girl to make her way through the hallway to Kurt's basement door without running into an end table or an umbrella stand. She hadn't really thought this through, especially since both her hands were occupied when it came to actually open the door. A dilemma if there ever was one. Sighing to herself, Mercedes placed the tray on the ground next to her but as her hand made its way towards the handle, she jumped.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Flicking her head towards the front door, Mercedes' eyes blinked. She'd frozen at the sound of the knocking but she did not attempt to answer it. It would be polite not to, seeing as this wasn't her house. She was a guest here. It would be like if she were to answer the phone. She didn't have the right. Yet as the knocking continued ever so obnoxiously loudly, Mercedes approached the door anyway. She began to fear that both Kurt or Burt would awaken from the sound, even if she'd heard nothing from either of their bedrooms, not even a creaking of floorboards or a faint rustling of anything. Both of them were very tired and the last thing they needed was midnight company.

As she approached the door, she held her breath. It was rude of this person to be calling at such an hour but then again, what if it were someone in need, someone who needed help, someone who was in danger. They could be stranded out in the street for hours if she didn't help them and she couldn't have that on her conscience if she were to get to sleep tonight. With that in mind, Mercedes ever so slowly reached for the door and opened it slightly, peeking her head around to see whomever it was who had come knocking.

At first sight she couldn't comprehend who was actually standing before her, shivering in the cold evening air, holding a piece of paper with something scribbled on it and looking as if he'd just been blown by the wind across several states to get to this door like some human tumbleweed. He looked good with a leather jacket, dark jeans and boots, but the ruffled and unkempt appearance just rendered him sloppy in her eyes, yet as the man's stressed hazel orbs eventually connected with hers, she sighed. Trust life to throw Noah Puckerman before the Hummel doorstep, the very last person who was welcome here right now.

"Hi... um... I'm sorry, I don't mean to disturb you or anything," began Noah, garnering up enough energy to pull a small smile at the girl behind the door, before shuffling on his feat as he looked back down at the piece of paper in his hand. On it was Kurt's Lima address that had been given to him by the model's friend Carlson after he'd paid the man a visit. It had been a major struggle to get a hold of it, what with the loyalty obstacle getting in the way, but the actor had eventually relented. "I'm Noah Puckerman and um... I'm not from around here and I'm somewhat lost. I was wondering if you could help me out."

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" seethed Mercedes loudly through clenched teeth. The chilly air outside was seeping through the gap in the door and as she opened it up a little further to enunciate every syllable to the man before her, the colder she got. She didn't need this right now. She could be surfing the web for cute dresses in Kurt's bed whilst sipping on a glass of warm milk but no, she had to deal with Puckerman and his oddly romantic mission for Kurt. Damn him! "Its 11:45 in the evening and people are trying to sleep here. Hell, I was about to go to bed myself if it weren't for you."

"I know, I'm sorry, I got here as quickly as I could from the airport but the taxi guy dropped me off at the wrong hous-"

"Mr. Puckerman, this is Lima Ohio, not Downtown New York, and here people go to bed when the sun goes down, not when it's around 3 o'clock in the morning and you've yet to receive a lap dance at five more strip clubs."

"I'm sorry, but I really need to know if this is 415 Whitman Avenue. I've been out here searching for fifteen minut-"

"So what if it is? You think I'm going to let you in?"

"Are you saying this is the place then? Because I'm looking for Kurt Hummel. I was told he lives here," replied Noah as he breathed a sigh of relief. When he'd first arrived, not only had he been led to the wrong house but on the wrong street. He had brought next to no luggage with him, just a backpack large enough to store the essentials and for the last quarter of an hour, he'd been traipsing aimlessly around the area for this house. It was one of those few times when he'd regretted not paying enough attention in Geography map reading. "I'm a friend of his see, from back in New York, and I-"

"I know who you are Mr. Puckerman. Yes, even cow herding Lima citizens have heard of you, or moreover talked about, but I'm not going to judge you from what I've heard. Kurt made it very clear for me not to," said Mercedes shortly as she grimaced at her own words. Kurt had earlier explained how sensitive Puckerman could get around the 'rumor' topic, but it gave no excuse for this intrusion. "However, I am going to judge you for coming to his home at... now ten to midnight. If you had any decency you would have shacked up in the ritziest hotel this measly town has to offer and then come by in the morning."

"I know, but I don't know anyone in this town except for Kurt and I could really do with seeing him now," encouraged Noah as he took a step forward, Mercedes' eyes widening before returning to their narrow slit like appearance. This man was really pushing his luck or really deluded if he thought she was going to simply open the door and welcome him in as if he were invited for tea and crumpets. Under any other circumstances, under the yellow tinted haze of the porch light, Puckerman's eyes squinting from looking at the small printed note, she might have relented, but now was not the right time at all. "Is he here? Could I talk to him, please?"

"He is here, yes, but no, you can't see him let alone talk to him. He's sleeping," snapped Mercedes. "Look, I'm his best friend and he's told me everything about what has happened between the two of you back in New York. He's not skimped out on anything but he's still sensitive to it all. He hasn't even told his dad and the last thing he needs are unexpected surprises. So why don't you do him a favor and fly back home to your fiancée, to your evil maid and to your huge ass penthouse, which from what I've heard is nothing but a spider's web like trap of fornication than a hotbed bachelor pad."

"Fine I deserve that, blame everything on me, I don't care, I just want to see Kurt," pleaded Noah desperately as Mercedes made to close the door. However, with a strong hand slamming itself against the polished wood with as much strength as a horse's kick, she couldn't shut it. There she struggled as she threw the man a heated glare. For Noah, getting beyond the threshold was the chance to see Kurt again and although the things this girl had said had been hurtful, he didn't care. Kurt was here. "Please, I flew all the way over here; I won't leave without talking to him. God damn it, what's your problem?!"

"Me?! I'm not the one who has one serious case of codependency! You're acting like Kurt's your only sustenance!"

"Will you just... open the-"

"You don't know when to quit do you?! Nobody wants you here, Puckerman! In fact Kurt came here to get away from you! Can't you take a hint?!"

"Fuck the hint! I want to see Kurt! I want to see-"

"Noah?" came a small from behind Mercedes as she gasped and whipped around to see Kurt standing right outside his bedroom door, his eyes squinting as he gently rubbed at them for a clearer sight. The boy didn't know what was going on. After shifting in his bed for a more comfortable position, he'd overheard voices upstairs, an argument between his friend and what sounded like Noah. The pushing and throwing of the door, the banging and the exclaims of disagreement had had him blindly climbing his basement stairs to the sight of Mercedes struggling to shut the front entrance against a force that looked as if it had the power to smash both the door and the diva down into splintering smithereens. "What is going on?"

"It's alright boo, I've got this! Go back to bed! I'm just undergoing pest control! It's a big one!"

"Kurt! babe, is that you?! It's me! Tell your psycho friend here to let me in!"

"Who are you calling 'psycho', you little playboy rat! Stop stalking my boy or I'll call the cops on your white ass!"

"Kurt! I'm begging you! Baby!"

"I told him to leave Kurt, but he just won't go! He just wont... argh!" cried out Mercedes as with one final giant shoulder shove strong enough to catapult a lighter person through the house and into the garden out back, Noah slammed the door open, sending the girl tumbling to the ground and skidding several meters across the polished wooden floor before coming to a halt at Kurt's feet. The model gasped as he quickly crouched down to his knees before helping her up to her feet, Mercedes' wincing as she regained her footing. "Thanks boo. It's all right, I haven't broken anything. I'll be fine... just as long as he's not here."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," apologized Noah profusely, leaving his panting perch at the door frame before closing it and nearing the two. However he stopped dead in his tracks as both Kurt and Mercedes cowered back in fear, their eyes on high alert, as if they couldn't trust him not to grab a hold of both their heads before ramming them together into unconsciousness. It was the worst feeling in the world. He hadn't come here to relive the experience of being a high school jerk, but here he was, breaking into someone's house. Seriously?! Had he lost his fucking mind?!

"Noah, what are you doing here?" asked Kurt accusingly, his tone cold as ice as he glowered at Noah, his arms still around Mercedes as she too eyed the man icily. What the hell was Noah doing here? They hadn't seen each other for a little over a week since they'd ended their affair but here he was, in his house, uninvited and looking at him as if he'd stumbled upon a pool of perfect water in the Sahara desert. "How did you find out I was here? How did you get this... address... fuck, Carlson. Damn it, what did you do? Tell me exactly what you did to him for him to have told you where I was."

"I didn't do anything to him, Kurt. He's fine. I explained I needed to see you and he told me," replied Noah, as he calmed his erratic breath. Even with tousled bed hair, a rumpled pajama shirt and bare legs as white as the moon's rays outside, Kurt somehow still managed to look incredible. Before this sight, Noah didn't want to admit Carlson had given him the address out of pity after the threats, the rejected bribe, the begging, everything that made him cringe even now. "Kurt, she says you left New York because of me, is that true? God, I thought we were friends, there was no need to run away from me."

"And there was no need for you to barge in here like some human battering ram and hurt my friend. In fact, if there was ever a good time to run away from you Noah, it would be now," retorted Kurt, letting go of Mercedes before taking a few steps forward towards the man. "Look, we are friends Noah, but you've got to learn to take no for an answer. What you've just done is totally unacceptable. It's a criminal offense, for heaven's sake. This is now the second time you've done this, and you're lucky, because if I were anyone else you'd be in jail with a restraining order against you."

"I know, I know, and I'm fucking sorry about that Kurt. It won't happen again," apologized Noah, stepping forward before saying the things he'd been wanting to get out. "Kurt, look, I came here to tell you that I can't go back to just being your friend. Sure us hanging out at the Padova, Central Park, Mangia and anywhere else were good for a time and we had fun, but after everything at my place, how can you honestly go back to seeing me as your friendly billionaire buddy, treating me like all your other friends when you know you feel more for me than you do them? You can't Kurt. You can'-"

"Sure I can Noah, and I was doing a pretty good job of it too before you came along and reminded me of how insatiable you are," argued Kurt, placing his hands on his hips as he eyed Noah critically, the man looking down at him with a frown. "By the looks of it, the only one who's not moving on is you. You're the one who can't go back to seeing me as anything less than a lover. You're the one with the problem. In fact, I might have stayed in New York if you weren't so unpredictable. Who knows how many Noah Puckerman shaped holes I would have had in my apartment door by now."

"Jesus, how can you be so fucking pessimistic about this, Kurt?!"

"It's not pessimism Noah, I'm telling you how it is."

"'How it is' sounds like you don't you have any feelings for me at all."

"I do, but I will never act on them. God Noah, I thought we'd covered this. I don't want to have the same conversation again; it was painful the first time."

"Well I'm sorry if what we have now isn't enough for me," retorted Noah angrily as he took another step forward towards Kurt. "Trust me, for the past few days I've done everything I can just to get your face, your eyes and your perfect pink lips out of my fucking mind. I've studied my brains out, I've been working out longer hours in the gym, I even went to the Hamptons with the family, but no, you're there, you're face is always there, always taunting me with something I can't have and I'm not prepared to suffer like this anymore. Either we're together or we're nothing."

"And you really have no idea which option is for the best?! You go to Harvard freaking University for Christ's sake!" exclaimed Kurt as he threw his hands up wildly into the air, wincing as he felt a headache coming along. "Noah, just listen to yourself. Think of what you're asking me to do. You want us back together but I've said no, and I'll continue to say no until you learn to accept that. You're just giving off the impression that you're a stubborn and spoilt brat that won't be told, who doesn't care who he hurts to get his way, not even his fiancée. Noah, you're allowing your marriage to fail before it's even begun."

"Don't talk about Quinn and I like it's you and me, Kurt. I want to talk about us."

"There is no 'us'! That's the whole point!" shouted Kurt as he fled into the living room, Noah following hot on his tail as the model turned around with a hand to his throbbing head and another to his stomach, his eyes closed as he breathing labored. He just couldn't do this. "Why won't you get it through your head, Noah?! You can't pursue me wherever I go like some emotionally crazed hunter and expect me to jump back into your arms. I came here to get away from all this and now thanks to you, all of this has come here! You have no right... you... you can't keep doing this to me... please... just stop."

"Kurt, calm down, take it easy," replied Noah hastily as he rushed on over to the boy before taking a hold of both Kurt's pale hands, bringing them up to his chest, and allowing the boy to lean his weak body on him, all of his weight, everything on him. Exactly what Noah wanted. Having Kurt in his arms once more, it was like a being able to breathe properly again. "Listen to what I have to say, that's all I ask... please, baby. Just listen to me and then I'll go, I'll leave you in peace and I promise I'll never smash your door down ever again... and if I do, I'll give you my credit card and you can go nuts."

"In Home Depot to buy a new door? More like you'll be doing that for me whislt I take your credit card out for a real shopping spree along fifth avenue."

"Fine, whatever, just... look Kurt, I know what you're thinking. Why did I let things get this far without talking about this? Why did I dance with you? Why did I even kiss you."

"Why did you?"

"Because I couldn't not kiss you, not dance with you, not see you," replied Noah honestly as Kurt lifted his eyes to witness the sheer amount of feeling dripping like a cascade from the man's hazel orbs. "Believe me Kurt, this whole thing has been crazier for me than the time I went on the Kingda Ka at the Six Flags Great Adventure park. I don't mean to hurt Quinn and yes, I do have morals before you ask, but treasures like you come and go so quickly that it would have been stupid of me not to pursue you. That's why I'm here Kurt, its why I've always been here."

Kurt couldn't help but look back at Noah in gratitude, gratitude that the man was holding his weight and preventing him from falling to the ground in a pleasant fainting fit of schoolgirl proportions. What he'd just heard had had to be the most romantic thing he'd ever heard. So truthful, so honest, but he didn't dare show it. If Noah got on that he had nearly cracked him, it would give the man the courage to go further and Kurt didn't think he'd have enough energy to put up with another round of the battle. Noah had proven in the past to be quite willful when it came to persuasion, a useful tool in the business world, but in Kurt's house and at midnight, it was just emotionally draining. He looked away to face Mercedes who was still glowering at Noah from the living room doorway and briefly smiled at her.

"'Cedes, do you mind if Noah and I go to my room? This is kind of private," explained Kurt, looking over at his friend as she leaned on the living room archway, watching them carefully, her eyes glaring at Noah. It was evident she didn't trust the man with her boy, but it looked as if they worn each other out by this stage. Neither one of them looked like they were going to jump each other's bones in the privacy of a bedroom, and so with a prompt nod, Mercedes peeled away from her position before disappearing into the foyer, recovering the now cold glasses of milk and returning them to the kitchen.

Pulling himself away from Noah's chiseled chest once the muscles in his body had awakened with a sharp pinch, Kurt lead the way out of the living room, across the hallway and towards his basement bedroom. As they traveled, Noah now began to take in his surroundings. The Hummel home was a quaint yet large looking house of traditional American architecture. It had been tastefully decorated to create a very homey atmosphere and there was a distinct smell of potpourri in the air, the fragrance of summer all around. It was the kind of place Noah wished he could have been raised in. The modern almost metallic like worlds of Washington D.C. and New York just didn't do it for him as a child.

Following Kurt down into his basement bedroom, which Noah found really neat, he watched as the model made his way through the white, colorless bedroom, across to his couch at the foot of the bed, and sat on it, eying Puck with an expectant gaze. However, Noah's eyes were already preoccupied as he stepped down the last few steps before admiring Kurt's childhood room. There was a four-poster bed on the opposite wall, flanked by two glass end tables. To the side, the entire right wall was lined with inbuilt wardrobes and on the other side stood a vanity desk, its surface strewn with neatly arranged cosmetics, skincare and hair care products. In the center of the room stood a low glass coffee table with the couch and two armchairs surrounding it, upon a wide fluffy white carpet lying underneath.

The room didn't look as if a teenage boy had lived in here for four years. There were no band posters, no clothes scattered every which way across the floor and in Kurt's case, no pictures of male actors or models stuck to his walls, but then again, Kurt was an exception. A very bonnie exception. As Noah continued to take everything in, Kurt sighed before picking himself up from his perch on the couch and made his way over to his iHome at his study desk. There he fiddled with it until the ethereal melody of an orchestra began to play, the notes flowing out through the in built ceiling speakers. He returned to the couch, noticing Noah's eyes on him as the sound of an angelic voice began to sing along with the instrumentation.

"Aníron by Enya, Noah. She's singing in Sindarin, the fictional language created by J.R.R. Tolkien."

"Tolkien as in the author to The Lord of the Rings?"

"The very same. Some people count sheep, wear sleep masks, read 19th century novels or even bash themselves over the head to force themselves into unconsciousness but this relaxes me every time."

"Hey, I don't want you falling asleep on me."

"Then you'd better start talking then, hadn't you."

"Well I... hey, wait a minute... isn't this a love song? Last time I saw the films; this was the love theme, wasn't it?" asked Noah, Kurt's eyes snapping open as he the man before him began to creep towards him, ever so slowly, but focus still in the air, still trained on the speakers. It was true. Despite the tune's soothing nature, there was a romantic air about it. It truly was beautiful and although Noah didn't understand what the woman was singing about, it didn't take any of the passion away from the music. So strikingly calming, washing over them both like the sea.

"Well the song does mean I desire, so I suppose so yes," replied Kurt guardedly as he lifted himself from the couch onto its back until he found himself sitting at the foot of the bed, Noah's approaching figure coming ever closer. He hated it when he didn't think things through. This song choice, thanks to its affectionate undertones, was working against him. He'd listened to it so many times that he'd solely focused on the melody, not thinking twice as to what the song was about since he didn't speak the secondary Middle-Earth language of the immortal Elves in the novels. "It was used for Aragorn and Arwen."

Stopping right in front of him, Noah eyed Kurt on the bed, the soft concoction of both the moon's rays and the room's ambient lighting complimenting the boy's doll-like features. It was now or never. The man had to prove to Kurt how much he meant to him. The song was right, the lighting was right and the house's strange seductive scent was everywhere in the air. So without hesitation, Noah gave into temptation, leaned down and crashed his lips onto Kurt's as the model was knocked back onto the bed from the force. There Noah blindly climbed over the couch and onto the bed, settling on top of Kurt as the boy wrapped his arms around his thick neck, deepening the kiss with every move.

"Come back," whispered Noah as he shifted his lips to Kurt's ear, his breath flowing through the boy's chocolate locks and down his soft throat as Kurt closed his eyes. Noah was never going to get over Kurt. Every time they'd part, he'd always search the ends of the earth for him, to bring him back into his arms. He knew Kurt would always melt in his strong arms meant to hold only him. He knew this, and as the boy's body began to surrender completely to its lost lover above, Noah began both their descents into the moment, claiming what he himself desired. Kurt. "Come back to me..."

I know that we probably shouldn't do this, wake up in the morning feeling stupid
Said that we were done but you're all up on me, said that we were done but you're all up on me
Tell me how we got in this position, guess I got to get you out my system
Trying to let you go but it's not that easy, trying to let you go but it's not that easy...

~ PLEASE REVIEW ~

(But if you wish to criticize, may it be constructive. I'm not going to learn from my mistakes and improve if you vent.)

Author's Note: The song used is 'Inside Out' by Britney Spears from her album Femme Fatale.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the characters from Glee since I don't own the show. I'm not earning money from this and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I mean only to please whoever stumbles upon my Love Story.

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