(Author's note: Warnings for angst and vague discussion of suicide. There's a lot of modified quoting in here from 2x06. I think you have to assume the scene with Will kissing Beiste never took place. It wouldn't make sense in the Donutverse. -amy)
The girls' mashup of the Rolling Stones' "Start Me Up" and Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" was remarkably good. Even Kurt could tell, and there was nothing about watching the girls writhing in leather that did anything for him. Puck, on the other hand, looked delighted, clapping and cheering along with the rest of them, his asshole persona temporarily dormant. Even if he wasn't talking to Kurt at school, it was a relief not to have to pretend to be annoyed by his fake attitude.
And then, in the midst of the performance, Kurt felt his phone vibrate. He took it out of his pocket to see Blaine's name on the screen, followed by a single word: Courage.
It was a text Kurt had sent Blaine more than once since the end of the summer as he prepared to head back to school. To see it now, from Blaine, gave him an incredible charge. It appeared to be that fake Blaine held hints of the real Blaine—and was definitely better than no Blaine.
Under cover of the song, he passed the phone over to Puck. For a moment, Puck looked startled to be interacting with Kurt at all, but then when Kurt showed him Blaine's text, he broke into the biggest, most authentic smile Kurt had seen from him since he'd returned. It made it hard to breathe for a moment.
Progress, he mouthed, and Kurt nodded. He didn't touch Puck's leg or anything else, but between that smile and the girls' jubilant singing, the distance between them had suddenly diminished significantly.
After the performance, Mr. Schuester received a note from Becky and was called to the office. Kurt managed to pull Finn away from the rest of the group long enough to show him the text, too. Finn's response was somewhat more muted than Puck's had been, but he looked very pleased.
"I'm going to see if I can find Dave," Kurt told Finn quietly. "I still haven't heard anything else from him after yesterday. We need to figure out what's next."
"I'll bring Puck home after practice," said Finn, waving at Kurt as he gathered his things and went to look for Dave.
It didn't take Kurt long. As he was walking through the hallway, the phone was suddenly knocked out of his hand, and he was slammed up against the bank of lockers. Dave was looking straight at him, and the expression on his face was difficult to read. If Kurt didn't know better, he'd say Dave was challenging him. Then Dave turned and ducked into the locker room.
Kurt took a long, fortifying breath, gathering his nerve, and then charged in after him, yelling, "Hey!"
When he arrived, however, the locker room was otherwise empty. He glanced around, losing some of his momentum.
"I'm talking to you?" he asked uncertainly.
"Girls' locker room is next door," Dave said in an undertone. He didn't bother to turn around. "Better make it loud."
Oh—right. Kurt ramped up the volume, pitching his voice to carry. "What is your problem?"
Now Dave looked at him. "Excuse me?" he replied, equally loud and furious, but his expression was a mask of grief. It made Kurt pause.
"What are you so scared of?"
Dave let out a humorless laugh. Under his breath, he said, "That's Aristotle's famous question, isn't it? The golden mean, a balance between rashness and cowardice. But what do I get out of it?" Then, at full volume, he added, "You mean besides you sneaking in here to peek at my junk?"
"Oh, yeah, every straight guy's nightmare, that all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you," Kurt blustered. He moved in closer to Dave, reaching out to touch his arm, and Dave jerked it away, scowling. "What's the matter?" he added quietly.
"Exactly what are we doing this for, huh?" Under the surface, Kurt could see Dave seething. It gave him a start of fear to see that familiar old expression on Dave's face at such close quarters, but he stayed where he was, trying to listen. "Assuming you manage to get him out of this—this hole he's dug himself into, what's going to happen then? All you're teaching him is how to depend on other people to fix everything for him. He still won't know how to be a whole person."
"People depend on one another," Kurt protested. "Especially when they're hurting."
"He's not hurting, Kurt," Dave snapped. "He's broken. His father broke him a long time ago, and you're just feeding into it, you and your fucking brainwashing crew. He can't make this okay for himself. He'll be just as lost as he was when you started."
Kurt stared at him in confusion. "What are you—?"
"And what do I get out of this, anyway?" Dave's volume was escalating now, all on its own, his voice cracking as his fury mounted. "You get all the guys, but what about me? Looks like I get a lifetime of watching you be happy together. And why not? I'm nothing but a—a chubby boy who sweats too much and who's gonna be bald by the time he's thirty."
"That's not who you are," said Kurt. He moved in closer, right into Dave's face, and although Dave's body returned the challenge, Kurt could see how terrified he was. "Blaine needs all of us, Dave, but nobody more than you."
"No. No." Dave squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard. "There's nothing I can do. Every virtue is a mean, between emotion and action, and—and I can't act. I can't, because when I do, people get hurt. I hurt you, Kurt."
"You can't hurt me now," Kurt said, but Dave wasn't listening anymore. He grabbed Dave's wrist, and Dave wrenched it out of his grip with one quick movement, slamming it against the locker with a bang. It made Kurt flinch.
"Do not push me, Hummel," he begged through gritted teeth.
"You're not going to hit me," said Kurt. Dave was close to tears, but the words were still coming, fast and hot and under his breath, like he couldn't stop them.
"I hurt you, and I hurt him, and he never wanted to really be friends, I couldn't give him what he needed, and—" He took a gasp of breath, his lips trembling. "He said, the little spider babies, they're supposed to float away on their strands of silk and be on their own, and it's supposed to be okay, but what if where you end up is just a trap, and—"
"Dave, would you calm down—?"
"Don't push me!" he roared, and Kurt fell silent. Dave let out a little sob. "I told him, I said I hated him, but the truth—the truth is, I'm nothing but a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary I am—"
Kurt watched Dave descend into panic with a sense of mounting frustration. He'd been there before himself, had lost his rational mind to the allure of the voices in his head, and Finn and Adam and Toby had been there to get him out. But they'd had had other tools—and talking wasn't working anymore for Dave.
The mean lies between emotion and action, Kurt thought. So do something.
He reached out with both hands, seized Dave's face, and kissed him. After a brief, shocked moment, Dave yanked his face back to stare at him, incredulous. Then he pushed Kurt back, a hand to his mouth. He looked more than shocked. He looked heartbroken.
"Dave, I—" Kurt began, but Dave slammed the locker with both hands and wheeled away with a little cry, disappearing into the hallway.
Kurt sagged against the wall, groaning in frustration, and felt the hot flush of shame. God, Kurt. In the history of wrong moves, that had to have been the worst.
"Hey," said Puck, pausing in the course of lugging the guitar monitor back into the choir room's storage closet.
Artie looked up at him. He didn't appear to be upset. "Hey?"
"I'm sorry about last night." Puck included Britt and Santana in his glance. "For ditching you all. I had… a kind of emergency."
"No, no, it was okay. Santana got us home." Artie's smile was reassuring. "Dinner was fun. Thanks for suggesting it. And, uh, I think things with Brittany might be looking up."
"That's good news for you." Puck glanced around, looking for Kurt, but he seemed to have disappeared.
"And what about for you?" Artie asked, bringing his voice down a little.
"What about for me?"
"Well, it sounded from your stories like maybe juvie wasn't as easy as you told us it was. Not just talking about the guys taking your waffles." When Puck hesitated, he added, "I heard some of what you said last night, when I was coming back from the restroom."
"Yeah. That." He shrugged. "Yeah, there were some guys in there, they definitely had it worse than me. Their families, they don't even care about who they really are, like their kid was some kind of dog they can't wait to kick the crap out of. So, yeah, I've got some hard stuff to work through, but at least I have people who believe in me. Even when I can't believe in myself."
"Sometimes you have to push through it." Artie patted him on the back. "Isn't that what they say? Courage is when you're afraid, and you do it anyway."
"I mostly live like that," Puck agreed. "But there's a lot of stuff I've done recently because I thought it was right, and now I'm not so sure? Hindsight is biting me in the ass, yo."
He saw Kurt appear in the doorway, then pause and lean on the wall. When Kurt had left a few minutes ago, he'd been confident, happy even, but now he'd done a clear 360°. Seeing this, Puck experienced a sudden feeling of dread.
When he turned back, Artie was watching him with a curious smile.
"Maybe that won't be so simple," Artie said, nodding at Kurt. "But I think maybe everybody else is rooting for the two of you, except for you."
"Yeah," he said, still distracted. Then he focused on what Artie was saying. "I mean—no, I am! Really I am. I'm still Kurt's biggest fan. I just… I don't know how I can be what he needs and be a good father at the same time."
"A good father?" Artie echoed. He smiled, shaking his head. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Never mind," said Puck. But Artie grabbed his arm before he could walk away.
"I don't know what kind of a father you are, but—forget about that. Everybody's family is different. My mom and me, we're on our own. So's Finn and his mom, right? And Kurt, and his dad. Who cares? You don't need to be a dad like anybody else, and you sure as hell don't need to worry about liking Kurt while you're doing it. Doesn't he like Beth?"
"Yeah, he loves her." Images of Kurt and Beth flitted through his head: Kurt changing Beth's clothes, giving her a bath, walking with her endlessly up and down the hallway while Puck played his guitar. He closed his eyes on the memories and shook his head. "I don't think that's gonna change. He said we're family, no matter what."
"Huh." Artie raised both eyebrows. "That sounds a lot more serious than just having a boyfriend."
"No, I'm, uh." He paused, then dropped his voice to almost nothing, leaning over Artie's shoulder. "Kurt's dad, he's adopting my sister and me."
Artie's eyes flew open, but he managed to keep his voice steady. "Oh, wow. That's good, though, right? Mr. Hummel, you like him?"
"He's the best. Him, and Carole."
"So stick with that," said Artie. He was still smiling. "That's the kind of parent you want to be, right?"
Finn approached him after Glee at his locker, as Puck wrestled with this conversation. He didn't stand too close.
"No football practice tonight," he said.
Puck looked up at him in confusion. "What's going on?"
"Sam just told me it was cancelled. I don't know why. I guess you're going home with us."
Kurt met them at the door, but he didn't say another word until they were buckled into the Navigator. Then he turned and faced Finn in the passenger seat.
"I made a big mistake," he said. "With Dave. Can I tell you about it?"
He explained what had happened in the locker room. Puck tried to listen without reacting, but when Kurt got to the kiss, he gagged a little.
Kurt paused at the corner, looking alarmed. "Are you okay?"
"Sorry, yeah." Puck cleared his throat. "Apparently my brain thought that was hot."
"It wasn't hot," Kurt said, obviously annoyed. "It was me, trying and failing to deal with Dave being out of control. And now, I think there's a good chance he's not going to want to help with Blaine anymore. I mean, if he doesn't think he can trust me…"
"You're going to have to talk to him," said Finn. "He might not get why you did that."
But Dave didn't respond to any of Kurt's texts or calls when they got home, or for the rest of the evening. In the meantime, with both Finn and Kurt with him in close proximity, Puck felt himself becoming more jumpy, his headaches more pronounced. In the middle of prepping for dinner, he had to go out on the back deck to get some air.
Lauren was clearly startled to see them when she brought Sarah home after school, but she recovered promptly. Nothing seemed to faze her for long.
"Hey, if you losers don't need me for babysitting," she told Kurt, wiping her bleary eyes, "I'm going home. This cold is kicking my ass."
Burt and Carole seemed pleased to find them all at home when they returned from work. Sitting with the whole family at the table wasn't exactly easy, but Puck was able to eat dinner, and even talk a little about yesterday's evening out with Artie, Santana and Brittany.
"He's a nice guy," said Puck, but Sarah snorted.
"You're just hanging out with him because he's the one guy you're sure you don't want to have sex with."
"Sarah," Burt protested, but Carole put a hand on his arm.
"It's good to have a friend who's safe," she said firmly. "Someone with whom you don't have to question where you stand."
None of them looked at Kurt, who was eating in silence. But after Puck was done cleaning up the kitchen, he went to Kurt's room, where Finn was doing homework and Kurt was bent over his phone.
"Any luck getting in touch with Dave?" he asked.
"Not yet. I think I'm going to have to try harder to reach him before tomorrow."
The tone in Kurt's voice made Puck take a step closer. "What's going on?"
"It's Blaine." Kurt turned to him, holding up the phone. There was a hopeful light in his eyes. "He wants to come to school, to McKinley, and talk to my antagonist."
"Oh." Puck licked his lips. "Uh… how's that going to work, exactly?"
"I have no idea." Kurt laughed, sounding a little hysterical. "Honestly, I'm not even sure if Dave is on board with the plan at this point. And what if Blaine sees you? God, what if he sees Finn? He had this moment, when I mentioned being from Lima… he remembered our house, and where it was."
Puck was too exhausted by the day's ups and downs to find this hopeful, but he nodded anyway. "Well, I guess Finn and I could stay home tomorrow…"
"I can't skip any school," Finn said. "My mom would kill me. But we can stay as far away from you as possible while he's there. Do your negotiating in the front, maybe in the courtyard? Just let us know when he's arriving, and we'll stay in the choir room."
"Okay." Kurt took a deep breath and let it out, looking gratefully at both of them. Puck managed to stand in the light of that expression for about five seconds before he had to ditch them for the safety of the hallway, shuddering.
Sarah appeared to be sketching an enormous shape on the wall of her room in pencil. Puck couldn't tell what it was going to be yet, but he sat and watched her crawl over the furniture, from bookshelf to bureau and back to the floor, until his head felt a little clearer.
"Okay if I play guitar?" he asked.
She gave him a look. "There is a practice room in the basement, you know."
He did know. He also knew the room next door to the practice room was a place he hadn't ventured into since he'd returned, and he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to react to being that close to it.
Cy didn't know about that part, he told himself as he got his guitar out of its case. He never asked you about discipline. You can keep those memories for yourself.
He wasn't sure that was true. It appeared his brain couldn't accurately differentiate between one kind of desire and another. All the things he wanted were too mixed up together for him to be able to say that's okay, but that's not. Which might mean he couldn't have anything he wanted anymore.
At least that wasn't the case with music. He strummed the A minor-C-F progression that had consumed most of his last two weeks. He wished he could try it on the piano in the sitting room, and get Finn to play the drum part, but he didn't feel ready to answer the questions Kurt would inevitably ask about what it meant. At least the lyrics were coming together in his head.
After a while, he sighed and set the guitar down.
"Headache again?" asked Sarah, without turning around.
"I don't get them from making music. This is just regular embarrassment. Because my lyrics suck."
She sat down on top of the bureau, letting her legs dangle over the edge. "You listen to all kinds of songs with sucky lyrics."
"Aren't I allowed to have higher standards than stupid pop artists?"
"Adam's lyrics suck too."
He winced at the mention of Adam's name, but Sarah didn't react. "Nobody's talking about him."
"I noticed."
"So what's that about?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe Kurt's feeling scared to tell him that you've converted to some scary Jewish cult and then—"
"I have not!"
"—then, you fucking took off without telling Kurt where you were going, and maybe he's—"
He raised his voice to carry above hers. "I already apologized for—"
"—scared that Adam's going to be pissed at him for not looking after you better!"
They both jumped at the heavy banging on Sarah's door. "What the hell's going on in there?" Burt called.
Puck went right to the door and opened it. Burt was standing there in his bathrobe. He gave Sarah an incredulous look until she climbed down from the bureau.
"It's eleven thirty," he said. "Can't the yelling wait until the morning?"
"Sorry." Burt didn't look angry, but immediately Puck felt more contrite than he had since he'd returned. "We'll tone it down."
"You'll go to bed, that's what you'll do." Burt was already retreating down the hall, muttering something about just because this house is bigger than a small city.
He pushed the door closed and glared at Sarah. "Adam wouldn't be mad at Kurt because of something I did."
"I just said maybe," she retorted. "Because maybe I've been talking to him all along, and he already knows everything, and right now he's just waiting for you to talk to him."
Puck slowed to a halt. "Really?"
She crossed her arms. "Maybe."
"Come on," he protested. "Does he know or not?"
"Okay, yes. I told him." She glared across the room at him. "But Kurt doesn't know I did, and Adam made me promise not to get in the middle of things, so I'm not going to. But he does know everything."
That was both terrifying and an enormous relief. Puck sat down on the edge of his bed, still clutching his guitar. He let it slip to the floor. "Fuck."
"Yeah." Her eyes flashed. "Just think about the lyrics he must be writing."
Once they were in bed and the lights were out, Puck picked up his phone. He'd intended to watch Blaine singing again, but instead, he found himself sending a text to Dave Karofsky. If Blaine shows up at McKinley tomorrow and you fuck it up, I swear I'm going to kick your ass.
He didn't wait for an answer, but followed it up immediately with a text to Adam, before he could lose his nerve: Things are so fucked here, but none of it is Kurt's fault, so don't be mad at him. He didn't even know what country Adam was in, much less what time it was there, so he didn't expect an answer from him either—but as he sat there, one came anyway.
I'm not mad at anybody except your father, honey.
The words made him shake, but he managed to focus on the shape of the letters instead of the man who had sent them. This was all my choice.
You can think that, but it's not true. And then, Is there something I can do from here to help?
He swallowed his sob, and typed, You can help with these sucky lyrics.
I'd be happy to.
Puck set the phone down on his bed and closed his eyes. This is what life is like now, he thought. You might as well get used to it. He wondered at what point it would start to feel like reality.
On Thursday morning, Puck discovered Mr. Schue had provided first hour passes for all of them to attend an emergency Glee meeting. He met them on the risers, and he didn't look pleased.
"We have a problem, guys," Mr. Schue said. "Coach Beiste has quit."
"Wait, what?" Finn craned his neck to look at Sam, who was staring at his lap. "That's terrible."
"It's not what we want," Sam muttered. "But I think it might be for the best."
"It's the opposite of what we want," Artie insisted. "Considering now the football team is actually winning."
"I'm sorry," said Rachel, sounding bewildered, "what exactly happened?"
"Somebody began to spread rumors that she was having an inappropriate relationship with—a student at this school."
The room was suddenly filled with buzzing, but Sam cut them off. "Me. The rumor was about me."
"You and Coach Beiste?" asked Tina, her eyes wide and shocked.
Sam stood up and faced Mr. Schue, then turned to appeal to the room. "Look, I know I'm new here, and you guys don't know me so well, but you've got to trust me. She's been a friend of my family for years. She's the most honorable person I know, and she would never, never do something illegal. And just, no." He shook his head emphatically. "She's awesome, and I would do anything for her, but she's not my girlfriend. She's my Coach."
Quinn frowned. "So why'd you say her name when we were making out?"
Sam's face went red, but he didn't back down. "Because she inspires me to be a better person. The kind of guy you need me to be. To have, you know… control over myself. To wait until you're ready."
"Sam," she said, with obvious regret. She reached out and touched Sam's wrist. "I am so sorry. I didn't intend for anything like this to happen."
"It wasn't just you, Quinn," said Mr. Schue. "Some other kids on the football team decided to take advantage of Coach Sylvester's effort to get her fired."
"But the rumor's not true," said Artie. "You said she didn't get fired, she quit. So she should be able to stay, right?"
"But what if it's not that?" Everyone turned and looked at Finn. "What if it's—I mean, maybe it's not that she's scared. Seriously, what would scare the Coach?" Finn eyed the rest of them. "Maybe it's that she needs to know that there are people she can trust at this school, no matter what."
"Sam?" Mr. Schue spoke softly. "Do you think there's any chance you could talk her into staying?"
"Maybe," he said, shrugging. "I think she'd need some evidence, you know? Actions speak louder than words."
"William!" They all turned to the door to see Principal Figgins. "I need to see you and Noah Puckerman in my office, please."
Now everyone's eyes were on Puck. He just got up and went with Mr. Schue without comment.
"Do you have any idea what this is about?" Mr. Schue murmured as they followed Figgins. Puck could only shrug. His mind was full of ideas, but if he was going to get through this, he couldn't allow himself to dwell on any of them.
There was an African-American woman wearing a suit waiting in Figgins' office. She stood up when they entered, shaking Mr. Schue's hand and smiling politely at Puck.
"I'm Deanna Martin," she said. "I'm Noah Puckerman's parole officer from the Mondale School for Boys."
Mr. Schue looked startled, glancing at Puck, but then he nodded. "I'm Noah's Spanish teacher and glee club director, Will Schuester. Nice to meet you. What, uh…?"
"I'm here to review Noah's progress toward meeting the goals of his probation. Now, here are the details…"
The woman showed Principal Figgins a form while Puck watched them with a mounting sense of unreality. He had a guess that this must be the person his dad had mentioned, the one from the church who would support him through his transition and help him maintain his cover. He just hadn't expected it to be so… so thorough.
While he sat there, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but there was no way he was going to be able to look at it here. It would have to wait.
"As you can see, he hasn't exactly been living up to our expectations." Ms. Martin gave Puck a barely sympathetic look, and he felt anger rise in him.
"This is garbage!" he protested. "I've been—you know, doing my community service…?" What was it he was supposed to be doing? Could she know about his text with Adam? The defiant hugs he'd shared with Finn and Puck? Was there any way she'd know if he attempted to go against his conditioning? "Please, Mr Schue, you gotta help me out here."
"Ms. Martin," said Mr. Schue, "there's got to be some way Puck can make up for this. He's been a model student since he got back."
"Look, there are rules," she said firmly. "If Mr. Puckerman doesn't find a suitable alternative for his community service by tomorrow, his probation will be revoked and he'll have to go back to the Mondale School for Boys."
"Oh, screw that." His stomach lurched, and he shook his head, trying to clear it of visions of the dark room where he'd sat for hours with Cy, revealing every little bit of his past. "I am not going back there!"
"Mr. Puckerman, calm down!" Figgins warned.
"You calm down!" He knew it was as stupid and juvenile a response as he'd ever given, but in the moment, it felt like he had no control over it. "What are you writing?" He tried to angle around to look at the form, but Ms. Martin wasn't being forthcoming. How was he supposed to follow the rules if he didn't even know what they were? He tugged desperately at her arm.
"Puck," Mr. Schue said wearily, "this isn't helping."
"Helping?" he shouted. He wasn't talking to Mr. Schue. He was facing Ms. Martin, and all his words were for Cy. "Since when does any one of you care about helping me? None of you care about me!"
In frustration, he shoved Figgins' desk with both hands and headed for the door, ignoring their startled protests. The hallway was still scattered with students arriving for school, but it wasn't so crowded to obscure Kurt, greeting a boy with tight, gelled curls wearing a uniform blazer. Puck skidded to a halt in front of Blaine, caught by his appearance as much as anything else.
"Fuck," he whispered. Blaine stared at him. His eyes widened.
"Um," Kurt said, his voice high and panicked, but Puck was already running again, heading for the stairs to the attic. He didn't look back.
Kurt watched Puck rush away with dismay. Blaine coughed, tugged on the hem of his blazer, and turned back to Kurt with a fixed smile.
"Hope he was okay," he said. His voice was full of confusion, but he didn't say anything more.
So much for staying in the choir room. Kurt checked his phone in desperation, but there had still been no response from Dave. He didn't even know if Dave was aware that Blaine was in the school. All he could do was take Blaine to the designated rendezvous point by the courtyard and hope that, somehow, this would work out the way he'd hoped.
"Thanks again for coming out here," Kurt said. He led the way, fighting the urge to guide Blaine with a hand on the small of his back. Just being beside him, even this facsimile of Blaine, was already overwhelming.
"It's really no problem." Blaine's veneer of confidence had returned. "Sometimes it's easier to do this with a little backup. I wish I'd gone back to confront the guys who had bullied me at Catholic."
"It's hard to dredge up the past," said Kurt. He paused at the foot of the stairs. "Most of the time, I'd rather just move on. You know?"
"Don't worry about it." Blaine put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Just let me do the talking."
Kurt looked up the stairs, wondering where he should take Blaine first—and there, right in front of them, was Dave, descending the steps and seemingly oblivious to their presence. The knot in his stomach suddenly constricted.
"There he is," he murmured.
Blaine didn't ask for clarification about who Kurt meant. He just moved in front of him with a quiet, "I've got your back."
Kurt watched Dave's eyes glance over both of them and away again. He wasn't looking either of them in the eye. Kurt hung back, gripping the metal handrail.
"Excuse me," said Blaine. He stopped in front of Dave and raised his chin in a subtle challenge.
"Hey, ladyboys," Dave said mildly. He nodded at Blaine. "This your boyfriend, Kurt?"
Not at the moment, Kurt thought, swallowing a laugh. Right now, I have no idea who he is. He gazed back at Dave and wondered, briefly, if he might actually pass out right there on the stairs.
"Kurt and I would like to talk to you about something," said Blaine.
"Yeah, I gotta go to class." Dave pushed past both of them.
"Kurt told me what you did."
Dave stopped walking. His expression was more curious than anything. "Oh, yeah? What did I do?"
"You… you kissed me?" Kurt said.
Fleeting amusement passed over Dave's face. "Is that how it happened?"
"It seems like you might be a little confused," Blaine said. "And that's totally normal."
Blaine sounded like he was giving a health lecture, but Kurt's attention was all on Dave, watching him take Blaine in, just as he himself had earlier that week at Dalton. He knew exactly what Dave was thinking: Who is this guy, and what has he done with Blaine? Finally Dave rolled his eyes and began to head down the stairs.
"This is a very hard thing to come to terms with," Blaine continued earnestly, "and you should just know that you're not alone."
At that, Dave whipped around, mounted the stairs with breathtaking speed and closed with him, grabbing both lapels in his fists and shoving Blaine up against the wall.
"Do not tell me that," Dave growled.
Blaine's response was immediate. He put up both hands in surrender, going limp in Dave's grip as he turned his face away. He didn't look at all scared. If anything, he looked relieved. This wasn't the reaction of a boy who'd been training to box to for an entire year. This was somebody who wanted to give in.
Dave let go with an audible gasp. He turned to go.
Kurt gripped his shoulder. "We have to stop this!" he hissed, but Dave immediately pulled away. There was no way Kurt could keep him there if he wanted to leave—but Dave didn't leave, at least not right away. He just stood there for a long moment, looking at Blaine's blank face and Kurt's desperate one. Then he sighed, shaking his head, and continued down the stairs.
"Well, he's not coming out any time soon," said Blaine cheerfully. Kurt let out a breath and sank to the steps, and Blaine's smile faded.
"This is a disaster," Kurt said. His voice came out shaky. "Blaine, I'm sorry you even came here."
Blaine sat down beside him. "What do you mean? You can't let one guy's reaction ruin things for you. It's not your fault he's scared."
Kurt laughed unhappily. "I think maybe it is."
"No way," Blaine said. His confidence was absolute. "I know guys like him. He grew up having all the control—over his body, his situation, his friends. He fit in so well, he didn't know what it felt like to be a visible minority. Then puberty hit, and he couldn't pretend so well anymore. He realized his friends would hate him if he told them who he was, and he'd already pushed away the people in his life who might have been real friends, because he'd identified them as liabilities."
Kurt listened to Blaine tell the story with fascination. He had to wonder how Blaine was able to reconcile his memories of Dave Karofsky in his head with what he'd just seen in the stairway a moment ago.
"So what should he do now?" asked Kurt. "If he's already burned all his old bridges, and he's stuck in a life he hates. How can he get himself out?"
Blaine appeared to think this over seriously. "Well," he said, tucking a stray curl behind his ear, "he could… change his perspective. Like, maybe the things he thought were valuable really weren't, and he should attempt to see things a different way."
"Do you think he could do that?"
Blaine smiled. "I think it would be worth a try." He tugged on Kurt's arm. "Come on. I have to get going. Why don't you walk me to my car."
Dave fumbled with the key to the attic room, almost dropping it twice before finally managing to slide it into the lock and turn the knob. Once inside, he leaned heavily on the door for a good ten seconds before realizing a) he wasn't alone, and b) it wasn't Kurt or Finn who was with him.
Puck was sitting on the chair by the window. He looked equally startled to see Dave, but as Dave attempted to flee the attic, he put up a hand. "No—dude, you don't have to go."
Dave considered this for a moment, weighing the consequences of running into Kurt again, or even Blaine, against being stuck in this room with fucking Noah Puckerman. Finally, he sighed, walking over to the mattress, and sat down facing the wall.
"So did you get my text?" asked Puck. "Or do I have to beat you up after all?"
"I got it."
"He saw me. Or, I guess I should say, I saw him. I'm not even sure he recognized me."
Dave didn't have to ask who Puck was talking about. "Yeah, that had to have been the weirdest fucking conversation I've ever had."
"What did he say to you?"
Dave turned around to face Puck, then quickly back again when he noticed Puck's face was streaked with tears. "Uh… you know, I thought he would be angry at me for messing with Kurt, but he didn't even bring it up. He just told me it was normal to be confused, and…" He blew out an angry breath. "And that I wasn't alone."
"Wow." Puck snorted. "Really useful."
"Yeah, I don't know what he thought I needed to hear, but saccharine advice from a guy who's lost touch with reality, that wasn't it." He managed to get through the sentence without his voice cracking.
"Well, maybe reality and I aren't exactly friends either, but I promise, I've got zero advice for you."
"That sounds perfect." He settled back into the corner, gripping the quilt on the bed, so he could hear Puck without having to look at him. "What happened to you, anyway?"
"You really want to know?"
"Well, I've heard a couple different things. Pretty sure you didn't actually steal an ATM. And Kurt says you ran away to Oregon, but…" He shook his head.
"What?" Puck asked.
"I guess I have a hard time believing you'd take off when you had… what you had here."
He heard the sound of the folding chair shifting against the uneven wooden floor. "You a Christian?"
The question caught him off guard. "Uh, no. My dad is, but I'm an atheist."
"I never understood Christianity. Like, if you had somebody to save you already, why wouldn't the world be a lot fucking better than it is? Anyway." The chair moved again. "This summer, with Blaine. It was… well, you know how things were with the four of us? How we were together?"
Dave frowned. There was no way to get out of this conversation. "Kind of? Like, I saw the, uh, the leather. And Kurt said, it's about… being in control."
"It's about giving up control," Puck said quietly. "I did that with Finn and Kurt. And then this summer, Blaine wanted to do that with me. I didn't think I could do it, but Finn told me I could. He believed in me, and—I did it. And Blaine trusted me, trusted us, and it was…"
There was a long pause. Dave waited, then asked, "What was it?"
"I can't think about it anymore."
"Okay, yeah, we can talk about something else…"
"No… no, it's okay. I just need to take it slow." Puck emerged from the dormer, walking slowly with his hand to his head, pacing back and forth across the attic. "So then Blaine's dad said we couldn't see him anymore, and that sucked in, like, fifty-seven different ways, mostly for Blaine. But I couldn't let go of him. Everything in the world stopped being fun. I didn't even like having sex anymore. I thought, you know, this is not the kind of papa Beth needs."
Although Dave knew in his head that Puck had a kid, other than in pictures, he hadn't seen much of them together. It seemed so unlike everything else he knew—or thought he knew—about Noah Puckerman. Of course, there was the thing Kurt had told him about Puck and Adam Lambert having a secret fling, and Dave still wasn't sure he believed that, either. Although, really, when he looked at the difference between who most people thought he was and who he actually was, it was pretty vast. It wasn't impossible Puck might be like that too.
"Did it help?" Dave asked. "Going to that Adventure Camp?"
Puck winced. When he got to the bed, he sat down beside Dave, still holding his head in both hands.
"I'll tell you what it did," he said. "There was a lot of stuff I didn't remember about myself that I remember now. Stuff I'd forgotten; stuff I'd crammed down inside and ignored for years. The guy who made me talk about all of it, he taught me one thing. He taught me how to be ashamed of myself."
Puck was still crying, but Dave wasn't even sure he realized he was doing it. It wasn't like being with Kurt while he was crying. Kurt clearly wanted comforting when he cried, but Puck didn't look like he wanted anything like that. He was kind of repelling Dave's sympathy, not in a fuck-you way but in a get-that-away-from-me way.
"I guess we have something in common, then." Dave tried to say it calmly, but really, there was no way to feel calm about shame.
Puck nodded. "New thing for me. So now I don't even know what I should do. Everything's more messed up than it was before. Kurt went to Dalton to see Blaine. Maybe he can do something for him there, I don't know. I get to see my kid tonight, and I have no idea what that's going to be like. Shelby was pretty pissed at me when I told her I was back. I can't even touch Kurt or Finn without wanting to puke." He looked over at Dave. "What happened with you and Kurt?"
"What do you—?" But he knew what Puck meant, and he made himself stop, because Puck didn't need him making his life more complicated with more pretending. "He, uh. In the locker room, I was freaking out, and he—he kissed me. I took off."
To Dave's profound embarrassment, now he was crying. Puck didn't seem to notice this, either.
"Why? I can't imagine it was so bad. Kurt's a good kisser. And you are gay, right?"
"I don't know," Dave said automatically. "I mean… yeah, I know why I took off."
"Why?" Puck asked again.
Dave took a deep breath. "Because until yesterday, I had never been kissed. Or at least, not one that counted."
Puck stared at him. "You mean, you and Matt, you never…?"
"I think he thought it would have meant we were, you know. Really gay. Instead of just doing the things we did." He looked away from Puck. "A kiss seems like a pretty stupid thing to care about now, considering what you and Blaine are dealing with."
"No, I think I get it." Now Puck was regarding him with calm solemnity. "You want it to matter. It's not a casual thing for you. Finn's like that too."
Just like that, he put an arm around Dave. It wasn't in a sexy way. It was just the arm of another guy. Dave was a little shocked at how good it felt.
"Do you miss him?" Puck asked. "Matt, I mean."
"Sometimes. It's more like… yeah, I miss the stuff we did, but mostly I wish I had something more than that. Like what…"
He trailed off, because he wasn't even sure he could say what you guys have anymore, but Puck nodded.
"I think having something almost good enough is kind of worse than not having anything," he said. "Because you know how much better it can actually be."
"I want Blaine to have that again," Dave said. He'd said as much to Santana; it wasn't too hard to say to Puck. "What he had, with you guys. He was happy. I think it was good for him."
Puck didn't let go of Dave, but he did squeeze his eyes shut and breathe hard for a moment.
"I still don't know if I can get back to that again. Or even if I should."
"Because you're ashamed of it?"
"I'm not ashamed of how I feel about them." Puck said it like he meant it, but he had no energy to put behind it, so the statement just came out kind of deflated.
"Then what?"
Puck didn't answer. Dave moved a tentative hand over to Puck's shoulder. Now they were kind of holding one another up.
"Kurt and the rest of the Glee club, they did Rocky Horror while you were gone," Dave said. "It wasn't a public performance, but Finn asked me to take video of it anyway. I think he wanted to make sure you and Blaine could see it someday. You know that show?"
Puck nodded, staring at his lap. "It's pretty fucked up, though, isn't it?"
"Well, I thought so at first. But then, watching it, it was kind of… like, I expected the moral of the story to be that giving yourself over to pleasure leads to destruction? Because, horror movie and all that, it doesn't exactly end well. But after seeing it, or at least the way Kurt and Finn did it, I think what really led them to destruction was shame. Okay, and cannibalism."
Puck let out a snicker, and Dave grinned, just briefly, before they both retreated into silence.
"What I kept thinking, all the way out west," said Puck after a while, "was that Blaine needed a way to stop having so many people to worry about. And I figured… you know, that doing this was a lot less cowardly than… the other way."
"You mean—" Dave jerked back to stare at him. "No. You would never do that to Kurt."
"I kind of did do that to Kurt," Puck said grimly. "At least, I killed off the part of myself that's any good to him. I didn't actually mean to do that, but that's what happened. But at least my kid still has a papa—one who can focus on her, instead of on things he can't have anyway."
Puck didn't seem to be actually suicidal, at least, so Dave tried to tell himself to calm down, but he felt a little shaken. "Fuck, man."
"Yeah, that? Another thing I can't have anymore. At least not with guys." An expression of distaste appeared briefly on his face before it disappeared. Dave watched it come and go.
"It was bad in there?" he asked, a little unwillingly.
"Well, it was the mountains in Oregon, so that was pretty fucking awesome. We did Capture the Flag and went hiking and—" Even as Puck spoke, he was crying again.
This time Dave decided he wasn't going to listen to Puck's get-that-away-from-me body language. He put another arm around Puck, so he was forced to cry right into Dave's neck, and held on tight, letting him struggle.
"It was like… a nightmare," Puck said hoarsely. "Everything he made me remember. And now I remember all of it, all the time. I think…" He fought with a sob. "I think this is my punishment for losing my way with God."
Or God doesn't exist and you're living another delusion, thought Dave, but he wasn't about to say it to Puck.
"It doesn't matter what kind of bad things you did," Dave told him. "You don't deserve to feel like this. Nobody does."
"Yeah, sorry, not gonna agree with you there." Puck sat back, wiping his face. "Even if I did, I don't think there's a way to put myself back together. How I'm feeling doesn't even make sense half the time. Like, look at you and me. If I were sitting this close to Finn, I'd be puking my guts out."
Dave decided it was best for him to keep his ideas about why Puck might not be attracted to him to himself, not to mention his opinion of just how hot Finn Hudson was. "I guess it's good you're not sitting next to Finn, then?"
"Yeah, I guess." He sniffed. "Carole says I could use a couple guy friends where I don't have to worry about that. There's you and Artie, so far."
They both heard Puck's phone vibrate. Puck looked like he was all set to ignore it, but he saw Dave's face and he dug it out of his pocket with a scowl.
"Hate the fucking phone. It's Kurt." He closed his eyes. "That's the worst part of all this, you know? Knowing I hurt him. He said he'd rather have me the way I am than not at all, but…"
"He would," said Dave. Puck nodded, but now he just looked defeated. "We, uh. We have this plan. To help Blaine."
Puck looked up in surprise. "You and Kurt?"
"And Santana," he said.
Puck actually laughed out loud. "No fucking way." He grinned, shaking his head as Dave hauled himself to his feet.
"Way. She calls it Operation Jailbreak. I think she hates his dad more than anybody else." He gave Puck a hand up off the mattress. Puck let Dave lift him up, looking at him quizzically.
"I didn't really get what Blaine was saying about you this summer, before."
That was a leading statement if ever there was one. Dave took a deep breath. "What did he say?"
"That you were his only guy friend growing up, and he missed you. That he wished you could be happy."
"I don't know if I really know how to do that," Dave admitted. "But I miss him too." There were other things, about how part of him wished that Operation Jailbreak might go at least a little ways toward making up for what a jerk he'd been to Blaine at the end of middle school, but he wasn't going to get into that with Puck at the moment.
"Yeah, well, it looks like Kurt kind of feels the same way."
"About what?"
"About being friends with you. He doesn't have any guy friends either."
He hugged Dave again, and Dave didn't even hesitate hugging him back.
After Puck left, he got out his phone and stared at it for a while, wondering what Kurt would say if he asked so what the heck was up with that kiss, huh? Eventually, he put it back into his pocket. He wasn't sure he was ready to hear the answer.
Shannon stuck around the choir room long after the guys had cleaned up from their mash-up of "Stop in the Name of Love" and "Free Your Mind." Sam hovered for a while, still wearing his tuxedo, but he left immediately when she gave him the signal to depart. It made her smile. Of all her boys, Sam had always been the best at following orders.
"So did they convince you?" Will asked. He stacked the sheet music and slid it into the file folder.
"Convince me of what, exactly?"
"Not to quit. We need you here, Shannon, and not just for the football team."
She crossed her arms, gazing out across the empty choir room. "Being here at all was a concession, Will. I knew I'd be putting both me and Sam under scrutiny, both of us moving from one small town to another like that."
Will nodded. "But he stood up for you with the Glee club. Nobody believes you and Sam are really—"
"No, we're not," she said crisply. "But truth don't hold much water with idiots, does it? The truth is, I care about that boy like he was my own, and I would do anything to keep him and his family from harm. Including quitting this job."
"I think he'd do anything for you. I saw the way he sang to you."
She shook her head, but it wasn't in disagreement. "That boy… I'm not sure how the good Lord came up with a kid like him. He doesn't just wear his heart on his sleeve, he puts it right on the table for girls to slice and dice. And that Quinn? I don't trust her one bit."
Will pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her. "Well, I'll tell you something about Quinn. She might have started in Glee club with a bad attitude, but she's got a good heart. And she and Puck made a great little kid."
"She's that baby's momma?" Shannon paused a moment to take that in. "Huh. I suppose that gives me a little more respect for her."
"That's one thing I like about you. You don't let your preconceived notions about a person turn you against them for long." He reached out with a toe and poked her shoe. "You think you might give us another chance? I promise I'll do everything I can to protect you from the evil Sue Sylvester."
She snorted. "She's the one who needs protecting from me. Those dog poop cookies, they made her an enemy. But… I suppose I should stay until the end of the football team's season."
"Especially if they're going to win."
"If?" she asked, grinning at him. She poked his toe with her own shoe. "So what's going on with you and your man? Since when are you a quitter?"
"Uh, actually, since childhood," said Will. He looked sheepish. "I've given up on this relationship a half a dozen times. But I promise, this time, as much as it might seem like I am, I'm not."
"Mmmm. This have anything to do with Emma's situation with her beau?"
"I am going to have to plead the fifth. I will say it's a little unorthodox. But Emma's free to tell you whatever she wants."
At last, she smiled. "Well, William, unorthodox is my middle name, so I sure as shit ain't gonna judge you for that. And you can keep your secrets. We all have them."
He smiled back in obvious relief. "Yeah. I think that might be for the best."
After the performance in Glee, during which he had an excellent view of Kurt and Finn in their tuxedos, Puck went home to take four extra-strength Excedrin and lie down on the couch. He didn't expect to find Burt there already.
"I picked up Sarah early from school," he said. He glanced up at the ceiling, as though he could see into her room that way. "She had a visitor. Your half-brother's mom, Tanisha, wanted to come talk to Sarah about why running after her brother was such a bad idea."
Puck didn't roll his eyes. He already felt like he was treading on thin ice around Burt. "Sarah's always taken care of things herself."
"Yeah, I got that," Burt said heavily. "Maybe not completely, but better now, that's for sure."
Since the couch was taken, Puck turned around to head upstairs to Sarah's room, but Burt added, "Can I just say one thing?"
"Yeah, of course. Seriously, you can say anything."
Burt sat up slowly, placing his feet on the floor, and sighed. He looked tired, but his fierce expression wasn't wavering. It wasn't exactly intimidating, but in the context of the shame that had been awakened inside him, Puck felt it keenly.
"I love Kurt," said Burt. "He's my kid, and I'm always going to stand up for him. Especially against opinions I know to be wrong. In this case, I know you're wrong. There's absolutely nothing wrong with being gay—or with any of the other stuff you and Kurt and Finn and half of the rest of Ohio have been doing. Zip. Your dad and the rest of those bozos who tried to tell you otherwise, they're wrong too."
Puck nodded as the words washed over him. Burt's gaze sharpened.
"But now I don't just have one kid to stand up for. I have three. Shut up," he added, pointing at Puck as he tried to interrupt. "Right now, just listen. It might as well be four, but for the moment, let's stick with you and Sarah. I don't give a rat's behind what the court ends up deciding about who gets to be in charge of the two of you. In my head, and my heart, it's me." Burt shook his head. "I threw Finn out of the house because I thought he was talking trash about my son. Now you're the one talking that way." He made a wordless dismissal when Puck opened his mouth again, and Puck immediately subsided. "I'd like to think I learned something since then. Nobody's throwing anybody out, no matter what crap gets said. But."
He leaned forward. Puck gulped.
"You do not get to tell my son, or Finn, or any other person that they are less than one hundred percent perfect because of who they love. And if I hear anything different, I am handing you over to Tess. And believe me, when she heard what you'd done, she had some very specific ideas about what you needed."
"Yeah," he said weakly, once it was clear Burt was giving him license to talk again. "I guess I had that coming."
"Damn right you did. Now c'mere." Burt beckoned him closer with loose fingers, adding, "I'm not going to hit you, I just can't get off this damn couch."
Puck sat down on the edge of it, somehow managing to keep from bursting into tears while Burt hugged him.
"I love you," Burt said, his words quiet and thick. "I'm not giving up, okay?"
There was no way Puck knew how to respond to that, but he nodded, trying to stay very still as his head throbbed. Maybe if he could sit this close to Burt for long enough, something he'd said might penetrate.
"You going to Dayton to see Beth?" Burt asked relentlessly.
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I mean—" He couldn't say I don't know if she wants to see me about a six-month-old, because that wouldn't make any sense. He shrugged. "I'm going to wait for this headache to go away before I head out."
As soon as he could, he hurried up the kitchen stairs and into to his own apartment. There was music coming from down the hall, sung by voices he didn't quite recognize. He hadn't even come close to touching the pain in his head before he got up from his bed and walked through the sitting room, past the green couch and down the half-flight of stairs to the hallway leading to Sarah's room.
She was on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. As Puck listened to the song come to an end, Sarah pressed the button on the CD player, and it began again. There was piano accompaniment and a girl's voice humming in the background. When she started singing, the lyrics were simple and straightforward. Another voice joined her in harmony on the chorus.
We feel
We hear
Your pain
Your fear
But we're here
To say
Who you are
Is okay
And you don't have to go through this on your own
You're not alone
You have more friends than you know
Some who surround you
Some you are destined to meet
You'll have more love in your life
Don't let go, give it time
Take it slow
Those who love you the most may need more time to grow
It's gonna be okay
You have more friends than you know
"You recognize the voice?" Sarah asked. Puck shook his head, still listening, and she smiled. "He kind of sounds like Timmy, doesn't he?"
"Uh…" Puck paused. He did, actually. "Who is that?"
"It's Jake. Our brother. The one you haven't met."
Jake. Now Puck could hear the ways in which the voice sounded like Timothy, and like his dad, and like Sarah. "Who's singing with him?"
"That's Katie. She's… my friend. Our friend." Sarah sounded fiercely protective. "Another one of our friends wrote this song, but they were too embarrassed to sing it themselves, so Katie and Jake did it."
He thought it was pretty good, but the lyrics were almost too on point.
Be brave
Be strong
You are loved
You belong
Some day soon
You will see
You're exactly who you're supposed to be
He remained there through the rest of it, living with the discomfort because it was so cool to hear Jake Puckerman's voice for the first time. When the song ended, however, and she started it over again, he said, "Dude, you could wear headphones."
"No." She glared at him. "This is for you, too."
"Yeah," he said wearily, "I got it."
"I mean, literally, for you. And me."
He paused. "You do know that literally means—"
"Mar wrote it for you and me," said Sarah patiently. "Jake and Katie sang it for us. Jake drove up from Mansfield today with his mom to give it to us. He said we have to listen to it a million times until we get it."
Puck came all the way into the room. He sat on the bed next to Sarah, listening to the two voices sing the gentle, encouraging words. When she started it over yet again, he didn't stop her.
"What if…" He swallowed around the lump in his throat. When she reached for his hand, he grasped it tightly.
"Yeah?"
"What if I don't ever get it?" He whispered the words, as though saying them fully aloud would make them more likely to come true. "What if I never accept those things? What if turn out to be the asshole our dad always thought I was?"
"Then that's the way it is," she said. "That's the way our family will be. And you and Kurt and Finn and me and Burt and Carole will deal."
"And what about dad?"
"What about dad?" She zeroed in on his eyes. "Fuck. Him. I gave him a chance, and so did you, and he screwed us over, again. He doesn't get another one."
He reached over and dragged her across the bed, hanging on as tight as he could for the rest of the song. She didn't seem to mind.
Be who you are
Learn to forgive
It's not about who you love
But how you live
- Mervyn Warren & Jeff Marx, "You Have More Friends Than You Know"
(Author's note: This song, presented on Glee in season 5, was written by Mervyn Warren (of the incredible a cappella group Take 6) and Jeff Marx (co-creator of Avenue Q). There's an astonishing initiative on the internet in which several dozen musicians have come together to record different versions of this song to benefit the Trevor Project. -amy)