Fic: Here’s Lookin’ At You, Kid (1/1)
Title: Here’s Lookin’ At You, Kid
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kurt/Quinn/Sam
Word Count: 512
Summary: All they were looking for was a way to be happy, and lo and behold, they found it. For lenina20, who requested “ Quinn/Kurt/Sam - future!fic” at my Winter Gift-Fic Extravaganza. General Series Spoilers.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: I really, really hope you don’t hate a little bit of kid!fic. Really, really hope so. And I may or may not have thought this up (in a different permutation originally, but still) when walking through the airport, so there’s also that.
Here’s Lookin’ At You, Kid
It’s not much of a move, really, in terms of distance, but when he looks himself in the eye across a mirror every morning, in the muddy reflection of the airplane windows, he knows in his heart that it’s enough. It’s not a contest anymore, not about being a Lima Loser, not about making a stand or proving a point. It’s about being happy.
And god, but he is.
They land at Akron-Canton Regional fifteen minutes behind schedule, Kurt finds, once he turns on his iPhone and checks. He grabs his carryon from the overhead compartment, sighing as he stretches his limbs -- he likes his job well enough, he supposes, not that he’d ever guessed he’d end up in advertising, but he has a keen eye that serves him well, and he makes his way to New York at least ten times a quarter, sees a dozen shows, so it works out.
And more than anything else, he gets to come home to this.
He spots Abigail Beth before he sees the others; sees her scuffing her Mary Janes on the platform of an abandoned shoe-shine station by the restrooms, Quinn kneeling nearby and straightening her hair; Sam’s not far off, balancing two paper cups from the instant coffee machine around the corner; he knows one of the cups is for him, because Quinn’s got a bottle of Dr. Pepper in her hands, and he smiles to himself -- he loves the tea from that machine like no self-respecting cafe-patron should.
Abby catches his eye before the others pick him out of the sea of arriving travelers -- Sam’s gaze is fixed on her own curly mop of hair, with Quinn glancing at the status board on-screen over the heads of the masses, scanning for his flight number -- and the grin she sends him is all warmth and joy, and it bubbles through him, floods until he’s grinning just as wide and she’s jumping, awkward and unbalanced -- she hasn’t mastered her limbs just yet, but she’s learning fast, so fast -- and it’s in those eyes that he likes his reflection best - that he feels safest, strongest; that he feels most loved.
His gaze flickers quickly to Quinn’s, who’s found him in the crowd by now; and those eyes, well, they’re a close second.
Sam’s smiling behind them, and Kurt beams his way last -- and fuck, they’re a little nuclear family, in their own convoluted way as Kurt approaches, as Abby runs into his arms and presses clumsy lips in a sloppy kiss at the corner of his mouth as he lifts her and lets Sam draw him into a one-armed hug, take his luggage with a casual hand at the small of his back. Quinn stands on tip-toes to press a kiss of her own to his cheek, crowds into his chest next to Abigail for a hug of her own, and she breathes against him for a moment, content.
And Kurt: he couldn’t have asked for anything better than this.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kurt/Quinn/Sam
Word Count: 512
Summary: All they were looking for was a way to be happy, and lo and behold, they found it. For lenina20, who requested “ Quinn/Kurt/Sam - future!fic” at my Winter Gift-Fic Extravaganza. General Series Spoilers.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: I really, really hope you don’t hate a little bit of kid!fic. Really, really hope so. And I may or may not have thought this up (in a different permutation originally, but still) when walking through the airport, so there’s also that.
Here’s Lookin’ At You, Kid
It’s not much of a move, really, in terms of distance, but when he looks himself in the eye across a mirror every morning, in the muddy reflection of the airplane windows, he knows in his heart that it’s enough. It’s not a contest anymore, not about being a Lima Loser, not about making a stand or proving a point. It’s about being happy.
And god, but he is.
They land at Akron-Canton Regional fifteen minutes behind schedule, Kurt finds, once he turns on his iPhone and checks. He grabs his carryon from the overhead compartment, sighing as he stretches his limbs -- he likes his job well enough, he supposes, not that he’d ever guessed he’d end up in advertising, but he has a keen eye that serves him well, and he makes his way to New York at least ten times a quarter, sees a dozen shows, so it works out.
And more than anything else, he gets to come home to this.
He spots Abigail Beth before he sees the others; sees her scuffing her Mary Janes on the platform of an abandoned shoe-shine station by the restrooms, Quinn kneeling nearby and straightening her hair; Sam’s not far off, balancing two paper cups from the instant coffee machine around the corner; he knows one of the cups is for him, because Quinn’s got a bottle of Dr. Pepper in her hands, and he smiles to himself -- he loves the tea from that machine like no self-respecting cafe-patron should.
Abby catches his eye before the others pick him out of the sea of arriving travelers -- Sam’s gaze is fixed on her own curly mop of hair, with Quinn glancing at the status board on-screen over the heads of the masses, scanning for his flight number -- and the grin she sends him is all warmth and joy, and it bubbles through him, floods until he’s grinning just as wide and she’s jumping, awkward and unbalanced -- she hasn’t mastered her limbs just yet, but she’s learning fast, so fast -- and it’s in those eyes that he likes his reflection best - that he feels safest, strongest; that he feels most loved.
His gaze flickers quickly to Quinn’s, who’s found him in the crowd by now; and those eyes, well, they’re a close second.
Sam’s smiling behind them, and Kurt beams his way last -- and fuck, they’re a little nuclear family, in their own convoluted way as Kurt approaches, as Abby runs into his arms and presses clumsy lips in a sloppy kiss at the corner of his mouth as he lifts her and lets Sam draw him into a one-armed hug, take his luggage with a casual hand at the small of his back. Quinn stands on tip-toes to press a kiss of her own to his cheek, crowds into his chest next to Abigail for a hug of her own, and she breathes against him for a moment, content.
And Kurt: he couldn’t have asked for anything better than this.