Fic: Higher Education, 4/?
Title: Higher Education, 4/?
Author: knittycat99
Rating: R for kissing, language, and potential future sexual encounters
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck
Genre: romance, angst
Warning: AU
Spoilers: By this point, none. We're so far from canon you can't reach it with a 10 foot pole.
Disclaimer: I don't own the guys. I really wish I did.
Author Notes: My thoughts on what the future holds for our boys.
Summary: They move into and out of Kurt's life over the years, sometimes when he needs them and more often when he doesn't
Word Count: 2,137
You tell me your life's been way off line, you're falling to pieces every time . . .
-Daniel Powter
When Kurt left for work, Puck was almost relieved to be left alone in the silence. He couldn’t quite believe what he had done. He hadn’t been rejected, not outright, but he hadn’t been truly embraced either. That was nothing new. It was a response he had gotten used to over the years, but that didn’t make it sting any less. He had put himself out there, however awkwardly, and the response had been less than enthusiastic.
Okay. That wasn’t entirely true. He had felt Kurt lean into the kiss, felt Kurt’s hands, tugging on his shirt and tentative against his skin. They had both been breathless, afterwards, and even though Kurt tried to hide it, Puck had seen the subtle shaking in his hands. So maybe his attention wasn’t completely unwanted. His head was spinning, he was tired from the day, and he had a slight headache. There was a small square dorm fridge down at the end of Kurt’s bed, and Puck hoped there’d be something in there to wash down a couple of ibuprofen. He found two bottles of water and a half-full 20 oz. 7-Up. He opened one of the water bottles, took the ibuprofen, and drank the rest of the water. Then he slipped out of his shoes and stretched out on Kurt’s bed, closed his eyes, and fell almost instantly asleep.
*****
Even though the office wasn’t busy with tours or info sessions, the phones rang all afternoon and Kurt only got a quarter of the way through the stack of mail on the desk he shared with the three other work-study students. The regular admissions deadline was just over two weeks away, and they were still receiving application supplements by the bag-full, in addition to processing response cards from early admits, whose decisions had to be in the office on Feb 15th as well. Kurt was a master multi-tasker. He answered his phone using the headset all afternoon so his hands were free for the mail. “Thank you for calling the Northeastern University Office of Undergraduate Admissions. This is Kurt. How may I direct your call?” Sometimes it was easy to pass the call along to the voicemail of one of the admissions counselors, but more often it was a student or parent calling with questions about their application, which meant that Kurt had to do some hand-holding while he worked sorting admit response cards from application pieces. He had a computer program to log the letters of recommendation, transcripts, and writing samples that arrived separately from the online applications. He could 10-key, mouse-click, and file with efficiency even while counseling “Yes, Mrs. Farrish, you or your daughter can log onto our admissions website to see the status of all your supplemental materials/No, Mr. Jacobs, you don’t need to worry. As long as your son listed us as one of the schools to receive his score report, the College Board will send us his results once the tests are processed. If he took the December test, the scores should be here in the office in the next week to ten days.”
He was glad for the work, which kept his mind off of Puck, surely asleep in his bed, and that unexpected, mind-blowing kiss. Even so, he was equally pleased when 4 pm came around and he could shut down his phone and turn off his computer. He called down the hall to Maria, the admissions counselor on duty, that he was leaving. “Do you want me to lock up when I go?”
“Yeah, sweetie, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow, if we don’t get anymore snow.”
“Great. G’night.” Kurt liked the Admissions office. The counselors were nice, and he felt useful. Even with the four student workers, there were only 10 people who worked in the office (not counting the student tour guides). They were like their own little family. Kurt was the only freshman; the job had been a lucky get, tied up with his scholarship in some way he didn’t understand. It was decidedly better than washing dishes in the cafeteria, or an off-campus job at McDonalds or something. It kept him in groceries, T fare cards, and the occasional night out with friends. He was one of the lucky ones; his need-based scholarship covered his tuition and half of his room and board. An academic grant paid for his textbooks. He and his dad split the rest of his room costs, which wasn’t a huge sum. His family wasn’t poor. His dad did a good business at the garage, and Finn’s mom was a nurse. But with two kids in college, and with his dad being self-employed, the Hudson-Hummel clan fell into that magic group of people who were suddenly eligible for all kinds of financial aid. Kurt knew that not everyone had it so easy, but he also knew that he had worked hard to get here. If the university thought him worthy of scholarships, he wasn’t going to turn them down.
The air was growing colder as he left the office. The sun would be setting soon, and then it would get really cold, and really slippery. Maybe it would be a better idea if he and Puck ordered in, pizza or Chinese, or maybe Indian from that place he had gone with Ethan one night after rehearsal. He decided to stop by the student union on his way back to the dorm to check his mail, which he hadn’t done since last Saturday. He was pleased to find the new Vogue stuffed into his box along with a postcard from Mercedes (“Having a great time in Miami, wish you were here!”) and an actual letter from Brittany, addressed in multicolored marker. He also had the Holy Grail of mailbox finds, a yellow package slip dated that morning. Thankfully, the window was still open. He fished his ID out of his pocket and presented it to the student clerk, who exchanged the slip for a large Priority mailbox addressed in Carol’s handwriting. That was going to be fun. He walked carefully back to the dorm in the fading daylight. His room was quiet and dark when he opened the door, and he could see Puck, curled facing the window, sides rising slowly in sleep.
*****
Puck came awake at the snick of a key in the lock. He stayed still for a moment, and then rolled over to see Kurt, backlit by the dim light from the hallway, balancing a large box against his hip. “I’m assuming you slept well,” Kurt said, a laugh in his voice.
“Yeah.” Puck’s own voice felt gravelly from sleep. “How was work?”
“Busy. We were closed a lot this month because of the snow, so there’s a lot to catch up on.” He turned on the overhead light, crossed the room, and set the box down on top of the books on his desk. “Carol sent a package. We can open it together later, if you want.”
“Uh huh.”
“Also, it’s getting really cold and slippery out. Would you be okay if we just ordered something in for dinner?”
“Sure. Do you have anything in mind?” Puck really didn’t care, as long as he got food, so he figured he’d let Kurt choose.
“Have you ever had Indian?”
“No. Is it good?”
“Killer. Your choices are spicy or mild, and chicken, lamb, or veggie.”
“Mild. Chicken.”
“Do you trust me to order for you?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Puck sat up, and watched as Kurt again shed his coat and scarf. He rifled through his top desk drawer and pulled out a stack of take-out menus. He thumbed through them until he apparently found what he was looking for. Puck scrubbed his hand across his face. “Hey, Kurt, can I take a shower?”
“Sure. Let me get you a towel and stuff.” He pulled a fluffy dark blue towel out of his closet, and handed over a plastic caddy full of bath products. “Do you want to borrow my robe?”
“Uh, no. That’s okay.”
Puck gathered the towel and shower caddy, and wandered up the hall towards the bathroom. It was also remarkably like the one in Finn’s dorm. Puck took the last stall with what looked like the biggest shower. He turned the water to hot and let it run while he stripped. The spray wasn’t too hard, but it was hot and plentiful, not the pathetic trickle he’d been expecting. He almost sighed with how good it felt. He shampooed his hair twice with something that smelled like honey and almonds, a scent he recognized as Kurt’s shampoo. He washed with a cucumber-scented wash that made his skin feel soft. Then he just stood under the spray, washing away his travel and the diner and every scared, confused emotion of the day. When he felt clearer, he turned the water to cold for a count of 10, and then turned it off. He toweled off with the thick towel Kurt had given him, and wrapped it around his waist. At the sinks, he used Kurt’s shaving cream and razor to get rid of the stubble on his neck and face. He gathered his clothes and padded back up the hall in his bare feet. The door to Kurt’s room was propped open with a shoe, and when he went inside there was a note scrawled on a piece of notebook paper on the bed.
P-
Went down to wait for the food, and to get us sodas. Make yourself comfortable. Be up soon.
-K
Puck rummaged in his pack for clean underwear, thick socks, and sleep pants. He was debating tank top or t-shirt when the door opened again and Kurt returned, a large paper bag in one hand and two plastic bottles of Coke in the other. “It’s dinner!”
Puck grabbed the first shirt he could find, a faded black tank, and pulled it over his head.
Kurt was right, the food was killer. They shared chicken in a flavorful tomato and cream sauce over rice (Kurt had called it Chicken Tikka something), a rice dish with curry, vegetables, nuts and raisins served with a yogurt sauce (“To cool it down,” Kurt said, because he liked it kind of spicy), crispy dumpling-things filled with potatoes and peas, and pieces of soft, pita-style bread spread with butter. Before they dished up the food, Kurt had tucked two plastic containers into his fridge. “Dessert, for later. The most wonderful rice pudding you’ll ever eat. It’s called Kheer. I’m telling you, you’ve never had anything like it.” They ate all of the dumplings and chicken, but still had half of the rice left. Kurt rummaged in the same crate that had held the paper plates they were eating on and pulled out a gladware container. “Success. I think this will fit in my fridge. Snack for later!” He emptied the leftover rice while Puck gathered up the empty food containers and put them back in the paper bag. “Do you have a place to put these?”
“Go the same way you would to go to the bathroom. Last door on the left is the kitchenette, such as it were. There should be a big trashcan in there.”
When Puck returned to the room, Kurt was unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ve got to get out of these clothes,” he told Puck. Puck turned away, a little unsure about overstepping boundaries. “You can turn around,” Kurt called to him. “I’m decent.” “Decent” was his white undershirt and a pair of blue and gray flannel pants. It wasn’t what Puck had expected. Nothing about this Boston Kurt was what he had expected.
*****
Kurt could feel Puck’s nervousness, and wasn’t quite sure what he needed to do to get him to relax. He started by plugging in the colored lights he’d strung around the window back before Christmas, and turning out the overhead. In his experience, it was sometimes easier to talk about hard or scary things in almost-darkness. He stretched out along the wall side of his bed, and gestured for Puck to come and lay next to him. When Puck did, Kurt curled in behind him and wrapped his arm across Puck’s chest. “I know you’re scared,” he began. “I promise, we just need to talk. For me, it’s not as hard to talk if I’m in physical contact with someone else.”
“I get that,” Puck responded.
“Okay. Good. So, a few ground rules. No talking around things. If you don’t know how to respond, or feel like it’s too personal, just say so. No lying. Nothing physical as a way to avoid talking.”
“I think I can handle that. But I’m not very good at this.”
“Neither am I. I guess we’re just going to have to be patient with each other.”