Fic: Higher Education, 16a/?
Title: Higher Education, 16a/?
Author: knittycat99
Rating: R for language
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt with mentions of other couples
Genre: romance, friendship
Warning: AU, futurefic
Spoilers: nope
Disclaimer: Don't own any of them
Author Notes: The beginning will seem a little weird. Keep reading. All will be explained.
Summary: Wedding invitations and a big birthday
Word Count: 2,971
And I don't want to talk about this love; this love was my saving grace. So can't I just say that I love you and we'll call it a day?
-Nanci Griffith
Providence, 2023-2024
October
The first invitation showed up in the mail on Kurt’s birthday, a thick embossed envelope addressed to N. Puckerman and K. Hummel stuck between three birthday cards, one in Carol’s delicate script, a second in his dad’s careful printing, and the third in Finn’s block letters. The postmark was from Lima, but he didn’t recognize the return address. He sorted through the mail, placing Noah’s pile on the kitchen table and taking his own pile over to the counter, where he opened his cards and discarded the envelopes. He still wasn’t sure what to do with the invitation, so he propped it up against the candlesticks on the table and went upstairs to do some work. When he heard Noah’s truck pull into the driveway, he rubbed a hand through his hair before heading downstairs to greet his husband.
He found Noah standing in front of the table, jacket on and briefcase by his feet, turning the invitation over in his hands.
“It’s starting,” Kurt said, nudging Noah with his hip. “We’re turning 30. Our friends are going to start getting hitched.”
“You didn’t open it.”
“I thought we should open it together. It is the first one, after all.”
Kurt watched as Noah slid his finger under the flap and pulled out the invitation, reply card, and envelope.
“Who is-” he started to ask before he was interrupted by Noah’s “Holy shit! It’s Shelby!”
“Shelby’s getting married?”
“Oh, man. I had no idea.”
“Noah! Who’s she marrying?”
Noah smiled, ran his hand over his face before turning to Kurt and reading “Please join us to celebrate the marriage of Ms. Shelby Corcoran and Mr. William Schuster on Saturday the 23rd of December at 1:00 in the afternoon at the First Unitarian Church in Lima, Ohio. Reception to follow at Breadstix Restaurant.”
“Beth never said anything during your phone calls?”
“Neither did Shelby. What about Will?”
Kurt shook his head. “Talk about keeping secrets. I think we have some phone calls to make!”
Which was how they ended up in two different rooms on their respective cell phones. Will answered his phone on the second ring. “Kurt! Happy birthday! The big 3-0. How does it feel?”
“Oddly, exactly the same as 29. Except now everyone will respect me.” He listened to Will laugh, and then interrupted. “You’ve been holding out on us. We had no idea you were even seeing Shelby socially.”
“Yeah. Well. It happened slowly. We’re both a little gun shy. But it’s good. I mean, we’re both past all that crap that happened in our thirties. We’re both grounded. We have good jobs that we like. And we love each other. And,” his voice hushed, “I love Beth. She’s a great kid. I hope Noah won’t mind my being a part of her life.”
Kurt paused to gather his thoughts. “I think that Noah will be thrilled. He adores Beth, but she needs a father who is there, in her life every day. And he thinks the world of you. So do I.”
The cell signal was fuzzy, but Kurt could hear the thickness in Will’s voice. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“Congratulations to you both. Give Shelby and Beth both a hug from me.”
“Will do, Kurt. And thanks for the call.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Bye.”
Kurt ended the call and pocketed his cell, and then wandered back to the kitchen where Noah was sitting at the table. His phone was tucked between his ear and his shoulder, and he was working hard at doodling on the back of the electric bill while he talked. “How about Algebra? Does Mr. Conant still make you share a desk if he catches you talking in class?”
Clearly, he was talking to Beth. Kurt put his hands on Noah’s shoulders and leaned in so he was close to the phone. “Hi, Bethie.” He could hear her muffled voice through the phone calling “Kuuuurrrrt! Thanks for that eBay link! I used my babysitting money and bought the cutest jacket!” Noah turned and held the phone out, sneering at Kurt.
“Would you like to talk to her? Apparently cute jackets are more interesting than Algebra.”
“Anything’s more interesting than Algebra, especially if Mr. Conant is involved.” Noah just glared, but Kurt must have spoken loud enough because he could hear Beth giggling on the other end. He leaned over and whispered into Noah’s ear. “I don’t want to talk. I’ll let you finish your call. I’ll be upstairs. Take your time.”
“Thanks.”
Twenty minutes later, Kurt was leaning against the headboard of the bed, laptop propped on his knees typing up an evaluation on a new client when Noah poked his head around the doorjamb looking sheepish. “I’m sorry I was snappish. Sometimes I think she likes you better than she likes me.”
“You’re her father. She loves you. I just have a really easy to access inner thirteen year old girl. I’m fun, but you’re important.”
“I hope so.”
“Never doubt it. How are they?”
“Happy. A little embarrassed that they didn’t at least tell us, but they were afraid we’d spill the beans to everyone else. And Will?”
“The same. And also worried that he’s going to usurp your position as Beth’s father. He cares about you and about your relationship with her. You don’t have to worry.”
“I’ll try not to. Do you have a lot of work to do tonight?”
“No. I just thought I’d get this out of the way while the client was still fresh in my mind. Do you have lots of grading to do?”
“Just some tests from Anatomy. Intro started on frogs today. I had two kids pass out.”
“Lovely.”
“Yeah. So. I made us a reservation for your birthday.”
“Really?”
“Really. That place you like on Federal Hill. I’m not sure what it is with you and Italian food.”
“I like that there’s pasta and cheese. And wine. And dessert with cheese and alcohol.” Kurt set the laptop on his nightstand and pulled Noah down onto the bed with him.
“I could just make tiramisu and get a nice bottle of red wine, and then we wouldn’t have to go out,” Noah said as Kurt reached around him to loosen his tie.
“I’ll only turn 30 once. Take me out.”
*****
They shared a half-bottle of red wine. Kurt ordered Chicken Florentine and Noah ordered penne with creamy pesto sauce, and they shared like they always did. For dessert, there was indeed tiramisu (presented with a single yellow candle). As they both dipped their spoons into the creamy layers, Kurt looked at Noah and asked him “when you started writing back to Shelby, did you ever think you’d get to be so involved in Beth’s life?”
“Honestly, no. I wasn’t sure if Shelby would let me, or if Beth would even want to know me.”
“Does it bother you that Quinn doesn’t want to be involved?”
“No. That’s her choice. I respect that. Did you ever think you’d be friends with Will?”
“No. But things happen. He was there for me when . . .” Kurt let his thoughts trail off. There was no need to add the words we almost didn’t make it to the end of that sentence.
But they had made it. It had been a struggle at home, and in the counseling sessions they started attending together (and the ones Kurt started going to on his own, which he didn’t think Noah knew about, and he was honestly okay with that). It had taken the better part of a year of endless talking and learning coping mechanisms and some shorthand for their own triggers and relationship issues before their home life had settled back down. And in the end, one of the best things they had done (besides the counseling) had been to leave Boston. When Noah had come to Kurt one Friday with a printed email from Tina talking about her teaching, and about her MAT program at Brown, Kurt knew that it was time to think about moving. He’d helped Noah with his application and with prep for his GREs, and when Noah’s acceptance letter had come in February, Kurt started looking for apartments and a job in Providence. He’d found one at a private pediatric psych hospital, where he worked in the outpatient clinic. He’d spent three years there before biting the bullet and going into practice for himself almost a year ago. Noah had thrived in his MAT program, and scored a job teaching Biology at a small progressive private school on the East Side, where he also advised the school’s GSA. They had bought their house back in the spring, and it felt to Kurt that they were finally reaching an adult place in their relationship. It felt good.
“Where did you disappear to?” Noah’s voice snapped Kurt out of his reverie.
“Nowhere important. Just memories.”
“You okay?”
“Definitely.”
*****
The second invitation came on Halloween. Noah knew immediately who it was for because of the trail of gold stars clustered in the bottom corner of the envelope. He carried it into the kitchen, where Kurt was putting treat bags together for the evening. He waved the envelope in Kurt’s face and laughed gleefully. “I pity the poor bastard.”
Kurt looked up. “No shit. I never thought Rachel would ever settle down, but I met him when I was down in the city for that conference in the spring, and he seemed really nice. And patient.”
“A necessary quality. What does he do?”
“Something banker-y. They met at a club.”
“Whatev. Do you want to open it?”
Noah watched as Kurt pulled the thick stack of papers out of the envelope, and waited. Finally, after skimming the invitation, he spoke: “Ezra and Thomas Berry request the honor of your presence at the marriage of their daughter Rachel Eva to Mr. Robert Newsom on Saturday December 30th, 2023 at Temple Beth Israel in Lima, Ohio.” He turned to look at Noah. “I’m surprised it’s not in New York. I guess it’s going to be a two-wedding Christmas trip.”
“Oy vey.”
November
Kurt had a late client, an emergency referral from one of the pediatricians Kurt worked with. The 14 year old girl had broken down to her during her annual well-check, admitted not only to questioning her sexuality but also to being bullied in school. It was the kind of situation that alternately pissed him off and broke his heart, and when the girl’s mother had called that morning he’d made the decision to see her soonest rather than leave the family hanging until one of the open slots later in the week. The house was lit up when he got home, warming the darkness outside. He could smell something delicious cooking as he opened the front door and worked at unwinding his scarf and hanging his coat on the hook by the door. A glance at the living room told him that Noah had interrupted grading lab reports to cook. He called through to the kitchen “Luuuucy, I’m hoooome!” Noah appeared in the kitchen doorway, dish towel slung over his shoulder and glasses on, still in his work clothes with his blue oxford unbuttoned at the throat and untucked over his khakis. Hot. His husband was still hot.
“I left your mail on the table.” Noah gestured with his head towards the small table that sat next to the staircase. It was where they left the important things that needed to go with them every day: keys, iPods, cell phones. And where they had started leaving each other’s incoming mail. Kurt put his keys down and thumbed through it. It didn’t look like much; a mailer from the Association of Child Psychologists about the following summer’s conference in San Francisco, the renewal notice for the registration on his Subaru, and the new Land’s End catalog. And, tucked between the catalog and Kurt’s alumni magazine from Northeastern was a save the date postcard.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit. Did you look at this?”
“Sort of?”
“And? Holy. Fucking. Shit. Right?”
“Yeah.”
“Should we go?”
“We’ve never been to a lesbian wedding. Think of it as a cultural experience.”
Kurt beelined for the kitchen doorway, and kissed Noah full on the lips. “Mmmm. Are you making scampi?” At Noah’s nod, he asked “Chicken or shrimp?”
“Chicken. Salad. Stop & Shop had fresh bread.”
“So you really think we should go?”
“Yes. They’ve been in our lives forever. And I kind of can’t believe they found their way back to each other after all this time.”
“I think Santana’s always been waiting for Brit.” Kurt rolled the thoughts over in his head. “And we both know that Santana always gets what she wants. Even if it takes the better part of a decade.”
“True.”
“They deserve to be happy.”
“Yeah. And there will be one upside to going to the wedding.”
“Which is?” Kurt leaned into Noah, and they stood in the doorway wrapped in each other.
“Nobody will look at us sideways for dancing with each other.”
“Good point.”
December
Kurt was eating lunch at his desk, trying to catch up on last month’s insurance paperwork between clients when his phone rang.
“Kurt Hummel speaking, how may I help you?” His father had taught him impeccable phone manners.
“Kurt.”
“Blaine?”
“Yeah.”
“How are you?” Kurt did some mental math and realized that, not counting the birthday and happy holiday emails they exchanged throughout the year, he hadn’t had any substantial contact with Blaine since right after he and Noah had moved to Providence.
“I’m good. Listen. I wanted to tell you something before you heard it through the grapevine.”
“O-okay.”
“Nate and I are getting married.” Kurt had only met Nate once, at which point the very preppy med student came across as not only a pompous jerk but completely boring as well. Kurt hadn’t been sure what Blaine was thinking.
“Congratulations?”
He could hear Blaine’s forced chuckle through the phone. “Don’t sound so thrilled for me, Kurt.”
“No. I am happy for you. But B, you don’t sound excited.”
“It’s fine. We’ve just been stressed out. Nate is applying for residency, and the long hours are killing him.”
“What about you? How’s the job?” Blaine was working as a junior aid to the junior senator from Maine.
“Crazy. It’s always crazy. But I love every second.”
Kurt could tell. Blaine had never been good at hiding emotions in his voice. Which was why he was a little worried about things with Nate.
“So. When did he propose?”
“He didn’t. I did.”
Oh.
“Over Thanksgiving. He’s. Um. He’s looking at residency programs all over. Two in California, one in Colorado, one in Seattle, one in Boston.”
“And any in D.C.?”
“He hasn’t decided yet.”
“So you proposed to keep him in D.C. with you.”
Blaine was instantly defensive. “He said yes. Which means that he wants to be with me.”
Oh, Blaine. In so many ways, he was still a seventeen year old boy. Kurt chose his next words carefully. “Honey, please. Think about this. Do you really want to tie him to you if he isn’t sure this is the real thing?”
“He said yes.”
“His words said yes. What are his actions telling you?”
“Dammit, Kurt. I’m not one of your clients.”
“No. You’re not. You’re a friend, and a grown man to boot, so I can talk to you the way I can’t talk to them. I think you’re making a mistake, but it’s not my life to live. And because you’re my friend, I will support you however I can. That includes telling you what I think and picking you up when your heart gets broken.”
“Don’t act all high and mighty because you’ve got the perfect marriage.” Shit. Back to that again.
“Blaine, it’s not perfect. I’ve told you that before. It takes work.” He took a deep breath. “Noah and I have been to counseling to keep it working. Don’t paint my marriage out to be something it isn’t, because that isn’t fair to anybody.”
All he got was silence, which was interrupted by a knock on his door. “Listen. My next client is here. Just think about what I said. I only want you to be happy.”
“Right.” Kurt could hear the tears in Blaine’s voice.
“Keep me updated, okay?”
“Sure.”
Kurt hung up the phone and went around his desk to open the door and peer out into the waiting area. He waved to Mrs. Klein, who was pulling a paperback romance out of her purse. “Hi Mrs. Klein.” 10-year old Raia smoothed her Patriots sweatshirt down over her jeans as she stood up. “C’mon in, Raia. How has your week been?”
*****
After Raia Klein (divorce), and Josh Hansen (foster child), and Autumn Sellers (honor student with panic attacks), Kurt returned to his desk to finish up for the day. The message light on his phone, which he muted during sessions, was blinking. There was one message. From Blaine, whose voice was steel. “I thought about what you said. Thank you for the advice, but I stand by my decision. I think it’s better if we don’t talk for a while.”
Well, shit. Blaine had always had a special place in Kurt’s heart and life, but Kurt wondered if he had been holding on to Blaine because they were adult friends or because he hadn’t wanted to let go of that last vestige of his childhood. Either way, he knew that something had just ended, and it made him sad.
He packed up his files and laptop, shrugged into coat and hat and scarf, locked the office and headed out into the frigid December night. Into the night that would take him home to Noah.