Summary: Four ficlets written with iTunes on shuffle.
Author's Note: 3 of these are angsty, and one is tooth-achingly fluffy. I was really into this idea of writing with a music's mood, so I tried to produce stuff I was happy with. I couldn't get past 4, but there we have it. Enjoy! I'm sorry they're so depressing...
1. Michael Gregory – We Left The Atmosphere Behind
All good things come to an end.
When it’s over, Puck swings his legs out of the bed. Kurt is curled on his side, looking at him. Puck opens his mouth to say something, but Kurt beats him to it.
“This never happened,” he says. “I know you, this won’t work out.”
Puck nods, solemnly, pulling on his pants.
“But,” Kurt continues, and Puck feels the warm weight of him pressed against his back, “thank you. It was… it was really nice.”
The other boy leans back into Kurt just for a second, then releases himself and stands.
“I’ll see you Monday, then,” he says, as if they hadn’t just had sex all night. As if they were just getting out of a movie, or finishing up dinner. As if nothing had really changed.
“Yeah,” Kurt says.
The tension wraps itself around Puck’s throat, like choking fingers. He feels like he should say something, anything, but can’t find the words. So instead, he turns the knob, steps out of the room, and leaves.
2. The Wallflowers – If You Never Got Sick
“For Christ’s sake, Hummel, is all of this necessary?”
Kurt looked down at his ungrateful boyfriend. “Yes,” he said simply.
“You’re not my mother,” Puck muttered, “you don’t have to baby me.” He reached for the chicken noodle soup. “I can take care of myself when I’m sick, thanks.”
“Take care of yourself?” Kurt snorted, putting the spoon to Puck’s mouth. The other boy rolled his eyes and opened his mouth begrudgingly, letting Kurt feed him. “Noah, if I wasn’t here to make sure you got plenty of bed rest, you’d be giving all of us Hamthrax, and the last thing glee club needs is another person out with The Swine.”
Puck knew it was true, but it didn’t make him feel less humiliated. “This is embarrassing,” he said, opening his mouth for more soup.
“You know you’re thankful for it,” Kurt replied cheerfully, undaunted. “Besides, how do you expect me to be a good boyfriend if I can’t baby you when you’re sick?” He reached over, smoothed a hand over Puck’s forehead. “Your fever’s going down,” he said.
Puck could see the other boy’s eyes softening. God, he really is like a mother… but the feeling of Kurt’s hand running through his hair made his stomach flip over, his heartbeat to quicken. Funny how even when Kurt was being maternal, he could still make Puck crazy.
“You love me,” Kurt whispered gently. “You know you love when I baby you.”
Puck couldn’t hold back the sigh that escaped him as Kurt fed him more soup. He did love Kurt, loved him like you wouldn’t even believe. He loved it when Kurt babied him, because his mother didn’t do it anymore. Of course he’d never admit it—he has an image to maintain, you know—but his eyes met Kurt’s and the smile Kurt gave him made Puck wonder if it was possible to fall in love all over again.
3. Ingrid Michaelson – The Chain
He’ll come back, I know it.
Kurt repeats this mantra as he sits in his room, looking at the clothing Puck left behind. He’ll come back, and he’ll apologize, and I’ll forgive him because… because he’ll be so heartbroken, how can I refuse that…
He waits all night, waits through the weekend, waits until Monday. Puck doesn’t call, doesn’t collect his clothes. Over the weekend, Kurt tends to his split lip, his black eye, and wonders how Puck is handling his own battle wounds. His own marks of love.
Puck doesn’t come. On Friday, Kurt hangs the shirt in his closet.
He’ll come back. Until then, I’ll just hold onto this. I’ll hold onto it forever.
4. MIKA – Blue Eyes
Kurt knows he should give up. It’s not worth it, his heart just keeps getting broken. Puck is so good at piecing it all together, but in the end Kurt can’t help thinking that if things keep going the way they are, his heart will be irreparably damaged, fractured to dust.
He’s so sick of crying over him. There’s only so much he can take, and then soon damage control will give up and where will that leave him?
“I hate you,” Kurt whispers, when Puck has his back turned.
“What?” Puck says. He turns around, shirt in his hands. He’s getting dressed, he’s leaving. (Appointment with Mrs. Schlader at 4—ka-pow!)
“I said I hate you,” Kurt answers, this time louder. He wants Puck to hear him.
The other boy freezes, then drops his shirt and approaches Kurt, kisses him hard.
“Then do something about it,” he says against his lips. And then he smirks, because he knows Kurt won’t. And Kurt knows it too. They both know it isn’t true, Kurt doesn’t hate him.
You don’t cry because you hate someone, after all.