Fic: Higher Education, 9a/?
Title: Higher Education, 9a/?
Author: knittycat 99
Rating: R, for language in this part
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Genre: Romance, Angst
Warning: AU
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys; I just borrow them from Fox.
Author Notes: I've taken serious liberties with the hiring process at Boston EMS and the ways in which one can advance as an EMT/Paramedic; I kind of needed to do so to make Puck's journey fit into my universe. There's a lot of story left in this part, so I'll be posting it in pieces. I thank you in advance for your patience. I think it will be worth it :)
Summary: Kurt comes home for Christmas, and Puck has some news
Word Count: 2,473
There's two lanes running down this road, whichever side you're on
Accounts for where you want to go, or what you're running from
Back when darkness overtook me on a blind man's curve
I relied upon the moon, I relied upon the moon
I relied upon the moon and Saint Christopher
-Mary Chapin Carpenter
Lima, Sophomore Christmas
Kurt was stuck at the back of the plane. He loved the airline’s cheap flights, but he hated the self-seating policy. The only good thing was that the flight wasn’t oversold. He actually had an empty seat next to him, so he stretched out across both seats as best he could, tossed his pea coat over himself like a blanket, and closed his eyes. Four finals and a paper in three days had just about killed him. He’d taken his last exam at 9 am, turned his paper in at noon, gone back to his room to throw some clothes in a suitcase, and raced off for the airport. He was still in the same sweats and t-shirt he’d taken his exam in, but he really didn’t care. He was going home. He was going to have six blissful weeks at home, shadowing the counselor at Lima Middle School during the days and spending nights at Noah’s apartment halfway between Lima and Dayton. Six weeks before he had to go back to Boston for one more semester apart. And then, if the universe listened to his silent prayers, things were going to change.
He plugged himself into his iPod and dozed to the Miss Saigon cast recording until a flight attendant tapped his leg and told him to prepare for landing. He sat up, turned off his music, and tried to rub the sleep out of his hair and off his face. As soon as the plane touched down (a little too rough for his liking, really), he powered his phone on and fired off a rapid text to Noah, no doubt antsy in baggage claim. On the ground. Taxiing. See you in a few. He must have had his phone out, because his reply was almost instantaneous: Can’t wait. Neither could Kurt, but he had to suffer through all those endless rows of passengers gathering coats and bags from under seats and overhead compartments. He stood in the aisle, waiting as the line crawled, until finally he was there, feeling the cold through the thin walls of the jet way, breaking free of the crowds and almost running through the terminal, down the escalator, into baggage claim and oh. There he was, the boy he loved, hip cocked to one side, thumbs in his pockets, relief and happiness wide on his face. Three steps and he was in Noah’s arms. The feeling of it never got old. It was one of Kurt’s favorite parts of coming home after being apart like that.
When they let go of each other, Noah held his hands out for Kurt’s messenger bag and coat. “Why don’t I hold those and you can go wait for your suitcase?”
“Sure.”
He joined the other passengers, navigating carefully around their paper shopping bags full of gifts and their small rolling suitcases to take a spot right near the start of the conveyor belt. He didn’t want to be at the airport forever, but it would be just his luck to have his bag be the last one out of the plane. He was pleasantly surprised when it appeared near the end of the first group of bags; he grabbed it up and darted back towards Noah. He took his coat and slid into it, and took his messenger bag. Noah took his suitcase and wheeled it behind them out to the parking lot.
“You eat?” Noah asked him when they had cleared the exit doors.
“Um. I had breakfast? And half a sandwich at the airport.”
“Do you want to stop for something? Or was Carol going to hold dinner?”
“I told her not to wait, because I wasn’t sure if there were going to be delays or anything.”
“So you want to stop?”
“Yeah.”
“You look exhausted.”
“That’s an understatement. I feel like I’ve run two marathons and then been run over by a truck.”
“Why don’t you close your eyes? We can stop at that little place you like.”
“The one with the chili cheese fries?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
Kurt leaned his cheek against the cool of the window, and was almost instantly asleep.
*****
God, finals must have really taken it out of his boy, Noah thought as he watched Kurt, full on chili cheese fries, two Cokes, and a chicken sandwich, settle in for another car nap. He didn’t care if all they did was sleep; he damn well wanted Kurt in his bed tonight. He reached up to where his phone was docked, and hit the speed dial for Kurt’s house. Finn answered, breathless. “Hey man, what’s up? Did my bro get in okay?”
“Yeah. Hey. Is Burt there?”
“Sure. Hold on.”
Noah could hear scuffling and muted whispers as the phone changed hands.
“Noah? What’s up?”
“Hey, Burt. Do you need Kurt home tonight, or can I keep him? He’s really exhausted. He’s actually been asleep for most of the drive.”
“No, no. That’s fine. We’ve got some family stuff tomorrow, though, if you could get him home by noon?”
“No prob. Thanks.”
“Thanks for calling. And Noah?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for taking care of him.”
“Always.”
When he was done with the phone, he turned the radio on low and sang along softly to the eclectic mix of Tim McGraw, Matchbox Twenty, and one of those girls with ethereal voices that were standards on the Western Ohio radio dial. The music helped eat up the miles, helped distract him. His mind was full of Kurt, of family obligation, of the letters that had arrived in his mailbox this afternoon. The letters that were sitting unopened on his kitchen counter, holding a multitude of keys to his future. He wanted to open them with Kurt, to celebrate or mourn, and then to talk about the endless array of options, regardless of what news the letters held.
Kurt woke almost instantly when Noah pulled his truck into the driveway of the little house where he rented a small converted-garage apartment on a month-to-month lease. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Big enough for his needs, but not too big for a guy living alone. Close enough to both his job in Dayton and also to school and his family in Lima. Home enough until he could build his own real home with Kurt. He helped Kurt down from the passenger seat, took control of both of Kurt’s bags, and ushered him to the door.
“I thought you were taking me home?”
“Change of plans. And yes, I cleared it with your dad. I mean, it feels a little silly doing that, since we’re kind-of adults. But I know it makes Burt happy when I talk with him, and that makes things easier for you.”
Kurt shed his jacket inside the door, leaving it on the floor in a very un-Kurt-like pile with his shoes. As he walked through the tiny kitchen/living room/eating area on his way to what Noah assumed was the bathroom, he also lost his t-shirt and sweats, socks, and underwear. Noah was still managing Kurt’s bags when he heard the shower turn on and Kurt release an ecstatic sigh. He puttered around, putting away the clean dishes off his drain board and tossing Kurt’s dirty clothes into the laundry basket with his own. He took two bottles of cold water from his fridge and placed one on the floor on each side of his bed before stripping off his own clothes in favor of sleep pants. He lit two candles on his night stand, turned the lights out, and waited in bed for Kurt to emerge. When he finally did, he was flushed from the heat of the water and his eyes were sparkling. He rummaged in Noah’s dresser for a pair of pants of his own, and then snuggled into Noah, his towel-damp hair leaving cool droplets of water on Noah’s chest. “Thank you,” he said. “I really just needed to be with you tonight. You always know what I need.”
Noah pressed a kiss to the top of Kurt’s head. “That’s because I usually need the same thing. Feel better?”
“Much. Like I’m almost human again.”
“Good. Because I might have some news.”
*****
Noah produced two envelopes from somewhere on his side of the bed. One was regular-sized, the other legal-sized and thick.
When Kurt got his brain and mouth into gear, he asked “Is that what I think it is? From where I think it is?”
He felt Noah nod against him. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t open it.” It wasn’t a question.
“Nope. I wanted to wait for you. It was important.”
“Okay, then, let’s open these.”
He sat up then, and watched as Noah pulled the flap on the larger envelope. A letter, a folder, a sticker. All good signs that Kurt recognized from his own college application process. The kinds of things he helped put into accepted-student packets at the admissions office. He picked up the letter and read:
“Dear Mr. Puckerman: We are pleased to accept you as a transfer student to the sophomore class at the University of Massachusetts, Boston campus, to begin with the spring semester in February, 2014. Enclosed you will find details of your financial aid package. Welcome to the class of 2016.”
He looked up into Noah’s stunned face. “Yay! You got in! What’s in the other envelope?”
“If I’m lucky, a job offer.”
“Really.” Again, not a question.
“When I came out to see you that long weekend and I told you I’d be okay all day while you had class and shit?”
Kurt remembered. “Uh huh.”
“I had a job interview. Jake set it up for me.” Jake was Noah’s supervisor with Dayton Fire/EMS. Kurt had met him once, and he seemed to think of Noah a lot like a son. More importantly, he was Noah’s mentor.
“Where?”
“Boston EMS. If I get it, I’d go in as an EMT-B, like I am now, but I’ve got enough hours that I can start my classes for EMT-II. The city would pay for it, and also for some of my college classes. If I get it.”
“What are you waiting for? Open the letter.”
He watched anxiously as Noah read it silently, smiled what looked like a sad little half-smile, and gathered Kurt back into his arms.
“Don’t make me hurt you. What did it say?”
Noah’s voice was a whisper. “I got it.”
“I’m so-. Wait. You got it?”
Again, a whisper. “Yeah.”
“You got it! Oh, baby, congratulations!”
He didn’t need to be looking to know that Noah was crying.
*****
God, Noah felt like a freaking baby. He couldn’t even handle good news without falling apart. It was, admittedly, the best news he’d had since Kurt had kissed him back that first afternoon a lifetime ago, but it was like there was suddenly too much good. Life wasn’t like this. Well, maybe other people’s lives were like this. But in Lima, for most of the people he knew, life was just going along to get along, don’t dream too big, don’t want too much. And if something bright and shiny fell into your life, you’d best not enjoy it too much because things could turn to shit before you knew it. And here he was, Noah freaking Puckerman, badass supreme and lifelong screw-up with a heaping pile of the biggest, bestest bright-and-shiny in the world. And he was so scared that it was going to disappear, that he was going to wake up and it would all be a dream, he was choking on it.
He could feel Kurt tensing in his arms; he knew he was kind of scaring him. Hell, he was kind of scaring himself. He didn’t think he had cried like this, big fat tears and hiccupping sobs, since his dad left. He managed a few deep breaths and finally spluttered the first words that he could gather: “I don’t deserve any of this.”
Any other person would have jumped instantly into praise and reassurances. Kurt knew him, knew his shaky self-esteem, and knew the exact things not to say when his fears and self-doubt crept to the surface. Kurt got up and padded to the bathroom, where Noah could hear water running. Kurt returned with the box of tissues, a cold, wet washcloth, and a bottle of ibuprofen. He held the tissues and washcloth out wordlessly, and waited while Noah blew his nose and wiped his face. He shook two caplets out of the bottle and waited while Noah swigged them down with water. Then he sat back down on the bed and said exactly the right thing: “Talk to me.”
Noah sighed, and tried to organize his thoughts. “It’s like, I’ve been such a fuck-up. I’ve hurt people. I gave my kid away. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to guys like me. I’ve been nothing but a loser my whole life; why would the universe give me any of this? Why would the universe give me you?”
“You’re not a loser, Noah. You’re not that boy anymore. You did your best with the tools you had to get through to this moment. You’ve changed so much since high school; I know you don’t always see it. I know you look in the mirror and see a scared kid, or the guy who was just too young to raise a baby. But you’re not that boy anymore.”
“What if it all disappears?”
“It’s not going to. I promise. And if it does, we’ll deal with it together, because I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”
Noah let out another shaky breath. “Okay.”
“Good. Do you want some cocoa?”
“Yeah. I think I’d like that.”
“Okay. I’ll be back.”
Noah watched as Kurt filled the tea kettle and set it on the stove, got down two mismatched mugs and the canister of fancy cocoa he’d sent from the hot chocolate place in Cambridge they’d visited that first weekend together in Boston. He spooned the powder into the mugs, and rummaged in the fridge for both milk and whipped cream. When the kettle whistled, he filled the mugs with boiling water, stirred, added a healthy splash of milk, and topped both mugs with whipped cream. He carried them carefully back to the bed, setting them on the windowsill before he climbed back in. Noah pulled him close, breathing in the scent of his own shampoo and soap on Kurt’s hair and skin. He was so tired, and so emotionally worn. He just wanted to curl up with Kurt and sleep it all away. Kurt turned and leaned into him, offering him a soft kiss that tasted of chocolate and cream. There were no demands in the kiss, just an offering of sweet peace. Noah sighed into the kiss, settled against Kurt, and surrendered to sleep.