#also the therapy speak in the sort of fic I’m talking about drives me up the wall | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fruitydiaz-archived · 3 years

Text

nothing safe is worth the drive

post 4.12 treasure hunt fic that i forgot i was working on

set after taylor turns buck down outside bobby and athena's

insecure buck | soft eddie | love confessions

6,513 words

AO3 link

Buck felt like he was floating.

And not in a good way. It felt like he was floating in a way that he hadn’t felt in a while. He felt listless, aimless, purposeless. Therapy was supposed to be helping him, he was supposed to be sorting through this — this thing that he had, this issue with abandonment, this need for everyone around him to constantly reassure him that they wanted him around.

The real problem was that this abandonment thing wasn’t just a single loose thread that Buck just had to untangle and then set right. It was a million little threads all knotted together, threads from his past relationships, threads from his family, threads from his friends, threads from work, twisting and weaving together into this suffocating blanket of shame. He wanted to be needed, wanted to be loved. He wanted it so badly that it made him feel sick, made bitterness creep up the back of his tongue, made his skin itch.

Every session he had with his therapist felt like a battle.

He wanted love but he hated that he wanted it. He wanted to be self-sufficient but he was lonely — he wasn’t strong enough. He wanted something meaningful but he never felt like he could trust it. He never felt like anything was enough — because he never felt like he was enough.

He was supposed to be getting somewhere, he was supposed to be making progress, but lately he’s been falling into the same old thought patterns he was supposed to have left behind with Buck 1.0 and 2.0.

Supposed, supposed, supposed.

Have patience with yourself, Evan. Show yourself the same compassion you’d show a friend.

These things take time.

Have you ever thought maybe you just need to be patient, wait for the universe to come to you?

The thing was — he knew Taylor just saw him as a friend. He knew every time he looked at her, every time Eddie joked about her being his girlfriend — he knew it wasn’t right. But he wanted it to be right.

They already knew each other, they had history. They already knew they had incredible sex together. So the only thing they needed now was the love. And he thought that they could work at it, maybe. He thought that over time, the more that they built on their friendship, the closer they would get to crossing that line into something meaningful.

But it wasn’t right. She didn’t like him that way and, honestly, he didn’t know why he kept trying to push it. Everytime he leaned in, everytime he let his eyes soften and linger, there was a voice in the back of his head screaming at him that it was wrong. But he wanted to ignore it.

Because he wanted it to work. He wanted it to be her. Because he didn’t have any other option.

They’re on the front porch at Bobby and Athena’s and he’s trying — he’s trying, again. It should be easy, he does love Taylor, maybe just not in the way he thinks he’s supposed to, but he can pretend. He can pretend that the pounding of his heart in his chest is excitement, pretend that the way his stomach is twisting is because of butterflies, can pretend the reason his hands shake and his palms sweat is because he wants her that bad.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t. He just wants love.

“I’m glad that we’re friends,” She says, smiling up at him. She knows what he’s trying, and she knows why he’s trying it — she’s called him out on it before.

That’s not what I meant, when I said you should wait for the universe, Buck. You know that.

But he really wishes that it would just work. That things would just fall into place like they do in the movies, that some switch would flip and he’d get what he wanted. But this...this isn’t really what he wants. And he supposes, that’s why it’s not working.

When he heads back into the house, there’s a cloud over him. He can feel it and everyone else clearly picks up on it, with the way their eyes all fall on him, then shift to Taylor, then back at him, then soften with a false sense of understanding.

They don’t get it. Nobody does.

He knows he’s doing that thing he does, where his face hardens, and he stares off into space, absorbed in thought and mentally checking out of the conversation. Eventually, everyone stops nudging him, stops trying to get him to check back in. But Eddie keeps his eyes on him.

Eddie.

Eventually, the crew begins to clear out. Taylor leaves first, of course, thanking Athena and Bobby for hosting, waving a quick goodbye for everyone else, walking briskly out the front door, phone in hand, always with a purpose.

Buck can’t tell if he’s sad to see her go or happy. Her friendship has been something like an anchor for him over the last couple of months — but he keeps trying to turn it into something it's not and the rejection he always knew would come is stinging more than it should.

Her presence is starting to feel like a constant reminder of all the ways he’s failing right now, which isn’t really fair to her.

Eddie and Buck hang back after Hen and Chimney leave, insisting on helping Bobby and Athena clean up a little. He’s not sure why they both linger. It feels oddly domestic, the two of them collecting silverware from a kitchen table that’s not either of theirs — it reminds him of the way Chimney and Maddie will linger in his apartment kitchen after dinner, clearing up and giggling to each other, Buck sitting stunned at his own kitchen table, feeling like an outsider in his own apartment.

They don’t talk much as they help — because Buck’s still brewing under his dark cloud of self-doubt. But Eddie’s nothing if not persistent.

He comes around to Buck’s side of the table and Buck glances at him, hands freezing as he reaches for another fork. Eddie doesn’t look at him, though, so Buck continues what he was doing, a little more on edge now. Their fingers brush once when they reach for the same bowl and Buck shocks the both of them with how quickly he rips his hand away. Eddie studies him for a second and Buck keeps his eyes trained on the table.

Buck doesn’t know what Eddie finds when he looks at him, but he must find something, because he sets his collection of dishes and silverware back down on the table and turns to face Buck, one hand on his hip with a sense of determination. He can practically see the way Eddie’s turning over words in his head, trying to figure out the right thing to say, so he braces himself.

“Why don’t you come over after this?” He asks, his voice gentle. Buck wants to ignore him, wants to finish clearing the table, say goodbye to Athena and Bobby, and leave — go back to his quiet apartment, bury himself under the blankets in his bed, and let his anger and hurt simmer.

But also — God, does he want to go to Eddie’s. He so badly wants to go to Eddie’s and soak up all of the gentle attention he knows Eddie wants to give him right now.

But also — he knows exactly how much that attention is going to hurt when he has to leave, when they have to cap off this week of brief fun and excitement and go back to reality — where Eddie’s with Ana and Buck is alone.

He doesn’t look at Eddie when he speaks, tries to force a casual smile onto his face but he knows it looks more like a grimace.

“What, you haven’t had enough of me yet?” He laughs, aiming for a joke, but he knows exactly how it lands; it’s pitiful and self-deprecating, a thinly veiled challenge. Eddie doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile, doesn’t frown. He just stares, steadily. Buck can feel the facade crumbling under the weight of it.

“Look, Chris is spending the day with Pepa and I don’t have to pick him up until later tonight. If you’re still around, I know he’d like to see you. He misses you.”

It’s a cheap shot, throwing Christopher at him like that. Eddie knows he’d do anything for that kid. And, to be honest, Buck misses him too, fiercely. It’s not exactly like they’ve been spending a lot of time together.

But he’s stubborn, so Buck keeps his eyes on the table, and doesn’t say anything.

After a moment, Eddie adds quieter, “I want you to come over, Buck.”

And Buck feels it all fall apart, right then. Because that’s exactly what he wants, isn’t it? To be wanted. To be wanted by Eddie.

Buck wants to think that he’s good at hiding it, wants to pretend that this burning desire he has to be the center of Eddie’s entire world isn’t written all over his face every damn day. But he knows it is — he’s never been good at hiding his emotions. His sister’s called him out on it, Hen has made gentle, quiet comments about it, and even Taylor saw right through his weak advances, saw them for what they were — a distraction.

The fact that he can’t get a grip, can’t put a fucking lid on this boiling hot need of his, is embarrassing. And he hates that Eddie apparently sees it too. Because of course, Eddie knows that Christopher isn’t his only weakness. The kid gets it from his dad. Buck’s weak for the both of them.

He doesn’t trust himself to speak, not with all of the emotions building up in his throat, so he looks at Eddie out of the corner of his eye, and nods quickly.

The smile Eddie gives him nearly knocks him back off his feet.

A few minutes later, they’re saying goodbye to Athena and Bobby. Well, more like Athena is kind-heartedly herding them out of the kitchen and out the door. Bobby says bye to them in the doorway, pulling each of them into a hug that surprises them both. Buck’s pretty sure that Bobby holds onto him just a second longer, squeezing him tighter, and clapping him on the back with a force that hides some kind of message.

I love you, kid is probably what he’s saying. Buck wants to swallow his tongue.

If he wanted to dig into himself and figure out exactly why he finds it hard to accept that the love from his co-workers — who are like his family — is enough, which his therapist actively encourages him to do, he would probably find that it’s because he believes that these are overwhelmingly good people. These are the people whose hands he willingly places his life into every single day, because he knows they’ll take care of it. They’re people that he looks up to every day, follows their lead whenever he feels lost, takes after them to better himself. And the thing that life has taught him about people like them, is that eventually they see him for what he is, and it’s never enough.

He fights every day not to feel like a fraud in that firehouse. He fights every day to earn his spot — even though everyone keeps telling him he doesn’t have to.

Old habits die hard, they say.

He climbs into Eddie’s truck — he had insisted on picking Buck up for lunch, since Buck drove them to dig for treasure — and feels the cloud over him start to dissipate, just a bit, in the familiar space. Part of him wants to reach out, grab hold of it, and yank it back into place. It’s that stubbornness of his that likes to hold onto the bad feelings, because they always feel safer than hope.

For the first 10 minutes of their drive, they don’t speak, just listen to the sounds of the radio. It’s peaceful, and as they drive Buck feels the cloud of his start to disappear. When he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, he can pretend that he doesn’t want it to stay, and he can start to let it go.

His feelings around Eddie are confusing, especially lately. He knows how he feels about Eddie, though, admittedly, he’s scared to say it out loud. When you voice something like that, give it a name, it makes it more real. Before, it was easy to ignore. Eddie was his best friend, Eddie was his partner, Eddie had his back, Eddie wasn’t going anywhere. He was content to keep that unnamed emotion under wraps for the sake of their friendship. Things were good — why would he want to risk it? Anytime he’s loved someone openly, they’ve left him. He wasn’t going to let Eddie leave him.

But now there’s Ana. And Buck doesn’t want to keep that emotion locked up anymore — not with the way it’s eating away at him. He wants to let it out, let it consume him, and maybe consume Eddie too. But that’s not an option. He can’t love Eddie, precisely because he loves him. He can’t risk losing him any more than he already has.

So he can’t let himself get too comfortable, can’t settle back into that spot he’s had reserved for the last 3 years. Because comfort leads to slip-ups; comfort leads to revealing things he shouldn’t. When they were both tiptoeing around their emotions — that was fine. Buck would slip up, then Eddie would slip up, then both of them would pretend they had no idea what they were dancing around.

Or, at least, that’s how he thought things were going. But, apparently, Eddie had enough of that dance and found someone that was actually worthwhile. Buck desperately wishes he could find someone too, but apparently the only one worthwhile for him — is Eddie.

Buck knows his peace can’t last forever so he’s not surprised when Eddie eventually turns down the radio. He’s been tapping his fingers against the steering wheel anxiously ever since they got in the car. Buck knew he was dying to start probing him with questions — in the most gentle, caring, Eddie way possible.

“Want to tell me what’s bugging you?” Eddie flicks his blinker on, eyes trained on the road, and he asks the question with such an air of nonchalance that Buck almost believes him.

“No,” He says flatly, shifting in his seat. The corners of Eddie’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he hates the fondness that creeps up in him at it. He fights to keep a smile off his own lips — he’s frustrated right now.

“Anything to do with that private conversation you had with your girlfriend out on the front porch?” Eddie asks...and...there’s an edge to his voice. That edge that’s been there every time that Eddie’s brought up Taylor — like he can’t let Buck have one thing. It cuts right through him, and he snaps, just a little. He sits up straighter in his seat and stares at Eddie. He can feel the heat rising in him — the anger, the want — getting twisted in his chest.

His face burns.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” He bites. He’s got more venom in him than he expects, the baritone of his lower register rumbling beneath the surface. It surprises Eddie, enough that the smile falls off his face, and he turns to actually look at Buck.

Buck knows his mask is all but wiped away — he’s clear as day to Eddie, his emotions all there on the surface, for Eddie to see.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting the anger bubbling in Buck die back down a little bit, and turns into his neighborhood. Buck feels himself relax again and guilt starts to settle in, in place of the anger that’s slowly fading. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, apologize, maybe, for snapping — but nothing comes out.

“Do you want her to be?” Eddie cuts in, interrupting whatever unnecessary apology Buck was trying to work out. He deflates against his seat and looks down at his lap. Yes, is what he wants to say. But it’s not really the truth. And as much of a fight as he’s been putting up — he’s really fucking tired. Fighting against Eddie’s not worth it, and he never likes it.

“I don’t know,” Buck says honestly, quietly. His voice sounds smaller than he’d like and he rubs a hand over his face, embarrassed. “I’m tired of being alone, Eddie.”

His voice breaks, and it hurts, and it’s humiliating, but it’s the truth, ugly as it is. Eddie nods, like he understands, which he doesn’t. Buck wants to scream, just a little.

“You’re not alone, Buck.” Eddie turns onto his street and slows down, taking the chance to look over at Buck, slumped down in his seat. He watches Buck roll his eyes, watches his eyebrows jump up and his head tilt like he’s ready to brush Eddie off. “You don’t have to be in a relationship, you know? You can just be Buck.”

“No offense, Eddie, but I’m tired of hearing shit like that from people who don’t get it.”

There’s a pause.

“I don’t get it?”

“No.” Buck’s getting short with him again, so Eddie doesn’t say anything in response. He waits, counts to five, lets his breath even out. He’s not looking for a fight — but that seems to be Buck’s default, right now, and that’s not how tonight’s going to go.

He parks in the driveaway and cuts the engine off, letting the silence settle over them.

“What don’t I get?” Eddie tries again, once he sees that Buck’s backed down a bit.

“It’s not the same for us, Eddie. It’s not the same for any of you. Everybody has someone. Maddie, Chimney, Hen, Bobby, Athena...you. Hell, even Albert had Veronica. I don’t have anyone.”

They stare at each other for a beat, before Buck breaks their eye contact and looks back out the window. His jaw locks like he’s not going to say anything else, and Eddie waits.

He turns his keys over in his hand and drops his head down. He doesn’t understand Buck’s need for a relationship — that much is true. He’s been on about this for months now, probably as long as Eddie’s been seeing Ana. Or — was — seeing Ana. That’s ended now...and he hasn’t really found the right opportunity to bring it up.

Eddie sighs and slips his keys into his pocket.

“Look — you’re right. I don’t know why you want to be in a relationship so bad. You don’t have to put all of your self-worth into someone else’s hands. You’re enough on your own, Buck.”

Buck still doesn’t look at him but Eddie can see the telltale working of Buck’s jaw, the way he clenches it and unclenches it whenever he’s trying to fight back some wave of emotions. He tries to sniff subtly, but Eddie’s watching him like a hawk.

“And, uh, besides, I’m...Ana and I broke up. A while ago, actually.”

Buck’s neck snaps as he turns to look at him, surprise all over his face. Eddie shrugs a little, cocks his head to the side, and smiles, shy.

“Wh — what? What do you mean?” Eddie shrugs again.

“We...we just ended things, man, I don’t know?” The look Buck gives him is entirely unimpressed and it almost makes him laugh.

“I don’t know? Eddie. How did I not know about this?” And — Eddie knows Buck. He can pick apart the layers of anything Buck says in an instance; the fake lightness in his voice, the question hiding another question, the underlying layer of hurt.

How did I not know?

How did you not tell me?

Eddie rubs his jaw with his hand before shaking his head and pushing his side door open.

“Come on, Buck. We’re not having this conversation in the car. We’ll end up here all night.” He jumps out, then turns around, leaning against the frame of the car and looking at Buck expectantly.

Buck stares at him a couple seconds longer, brain still struggling to catch up with him. He looks like he wants to argue. Against what, Eddie’s not really sure, and he’s pretty sure Buck isn’t either.

Wordlessly, he unclasps his seatbelt and slides out his side of the truck. Eddie counts that as a win.

They head into the house in silence, Buck walking straight to the kitchen to grab them some beers while Eddie flicks on the lights and does a general scope around the house, just to feel settled.

When he walks back to the kitchen, Buck’s shoes are off — he left them by the door, next to the pile of Eddie’s and Christopher’s — and he’s hoisted himself up onto the counter by the sink. Eddie’s body warms, the way it does whenever he sees Buck comfortable in his home. He stopped trying to analyze the feeling a long time ago — just accepted that Buck was a part of his home now and when he wasn’t there — it didn’t feel complete.

Buck’s got one bottle of beer in his hands, another uncapped on the counter next to him. Eddie smiles as he walks over to Buck, drifting into his orbit to grab the bottle. They tap their bottles together in a wordless cheer, a habit of theirs they can’t ever break, even with tension sitting heavy between them, and Eddie leans back against the kitchen table as he takes his first sip.

They drink in silence and Eddie can feel the way Buck’s holding himself back, the way he’s refusing to broach the subject before Eddie does. He takes another sip of his beer and sighs, holding it down in his lap, and fiddling with the cap.

“I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t like there was a big problem between me and Ana...it just wasn’t working,” He glances at Buck, who’s watching him with that look in his eyes; the one that always makes Eddie feel pinned in place, grounded in a way that few things do, like he’s the only person in the world. He shifts.

“We both agreed to end things...together. But I still needed some time, you know, to think about...things,” Eddie drops his gaze back down to the bottle in his lap. He pauses, taking the opportunity to take another sip of beer.

He hadn’t been planning to have this conversation with Buck for a while. That’s exactly why he didn’t tell him that they had broken up in the first place. Because somewhere between introducing Ana to Christopher and the last couple of months — Eddie had come to a startling realization.

The moment it hit him was nothing, really. It was a quiet moment. One day his Abuela had stopped by the station to drop Christopher off at the end of Eddie’s shift and Eddie was still in the locker room. He came out to find Chris and Buck talking by the truck. Christopher had just pulled out his latest art project to show Buck and Buck was on his knees beside him, staring at the piece of paper like it was a genuine work of art. He asked serious questions about the subject matter, the colors Chris had chosen — and Chris eagerly answered all of them, laughing when he thought Buck asked a silly question, and Buck would fein offended and then burst out laughing with him.

It was so ordinary, so normal for them, that Eddie didn’t even pause when his heart warmed at the sight or when that fond smile made its way onto his face or when he squeezed Buck’s shoulder as they said goodbye. He didn’t realize until he had made the whole drive home, ate dinner, helped Chris with his homework, put him to bed, and then settled in under the covers that night. Then it hit him all at once.

He was in love with Buck. He wanted to see Buck every day, wanted to wake up in the morning and come into the kitchen to find Buck doing something entirely mundane like drinking coffee, or eating breakfast, talking with Chris about anything and everything while he sat at the table eating cereal. He wanted Buck to come home with him after a shift and sit down at the table with them while they ate dinner and talked about their days. He wanted Buck there for movie nights and beers and birthday parties and bedtime stories and sleepovers and — everything.

So he broke up with Ana. And he spent the last month and a half trying to figure out exactly how to move forward from there because he was pretty sure that Buck loved him too.

But now there’s been all this time and space between where they once were and where they were now — a weird distance between them, a chasm that seemed impossible to cross. And every time Eddie tried to reach out he was met with resistance — because Buck was clearly trying to make something work with Taylor.

Why? Eddie didn’t understand. They seemed friendly with each other, and Eddie tried not to let his jealousy eat away at him, fought hard not to listen to that voice in the back of his head that screamed that he lost his chance, that he’d been replaced. But Taylor was clearly disinterested in pursuing anything else with Buck. And from where Eddie sat? Buck sure kept trying, but his heart didn’t really seem to be in it.

So — it was confusing. And the more time went by, the less Eddie really knew what to do.

And now they’re here.

“Look — nobody knows, except, you know, Christopher...and Abuela, Pepa, my mom, my dad, my sisters — you know,” He waves his hand, dismissively. “But nobody from work knows. You’re...you’re the first one I’ve told...because I want to tell you.”

He doesn’t miss the pleased look that passes over Buck’s face before he forces it down into something slightly more neutral. He stalls, taking another sip from his beer. He looks like he wants to say a couple of different things, or a million different things — Eddie wouldn’t know — but he settles for the easiest.

“How long?”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath and presses his lips together.

“Month and a half.” And there it is, that unimpressed look, again.

“Eddie—” Eddie holds up his hands in defense.

“I know, I know, okay. It’s been a while. I told you, I had...some things to think about.” That’s as vague as he can be. He’s not really sure that now’s the time to say I was trying to figure out how to tell you I love you. Buck blinks, waiting for Eddie to elaborate. When he doesn’t, he rolls his eyes.

“Eddie — a month? What was there to think about, you had already broken up,” Buck’s tone is exasperated but he’s not angry — not like he was an hour ago. Eddie chews on his lip, looking back down at the bottle in his hands and picking at the wrapper on it.

“I had to think about what I wanted,” He says quietly. When he looks back at Buck — he sees the confusion. But Buck stays quiet, eyes flicking over Eddie’s face. They stay like that, suspended in the moment, for a while, before Eddie speaks again.

“What do you want, Buck? Is it Taylor Kelly?”

He’s not sure what gives him the confidence to ask that, to turn the conversation back around on Buck. He tries to keep his voice level when he says Taylor’s name; he’s perfectly aware of how his voice turns to something twisted and bitter whenever he talks about her. She doesn’t deserve it, not really, but he can’t help it. He tries his best.

Buck keeps his eyes locked with Eddie’s and they narrow a little, like he’s trying to figure out Eddie’s play, flipping the switch on him like that. Eventually, he drops his gaze and does a confusing series of tiny head nods and shakes. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“I don’t know — no. Not really.” Eddie nods. He repeats his question.

“What do you want, Buck?”

Buck doesn’t say anything, not at first. He’s distinctly thinking that he’s not drunk enough for this conversation. He’s not drunk at all — he’s barely had half of his beer. He’s not nearly as loose as he’d like to be for this — not nearly as loose as he needs to be for this. But he wants to be honest with Eddie, wants to save this intimate moment, wants to cherish the closeness. This is what his therapist encourages him to do, take the opportunity to open up, not to hide away in the things he thinks are most comfortable, not to shy away from the vulnerability that scares him, to embrace it, and be honest and real.

“I want...someone to come home to,” He starts, and his voice cracks on the word home, but he powers through, even if he has to take another large gulp of beer before continuing. “I...want someone who...will see everything that I have to offer and...it — it will be enough.”

I want you. I want you. Can I be enough for you?

Buck falls quiet again and Eddie takes the risk, stepping forward into the space between Buck’s legs. They weren’t far apart to begin with, the space between the counter and the table isn’t that great, but now Eddie’s breathing his air. Buck chances a look up at him.

“Do you know what I want?” Eddie asks, eyes steady on Buck. He doesn’t dare to breathe. “I want someone that I can count on. Someone who...won’t be scared by all of the parts of me that are broken. Someone who will look at Christopher — and see him the way I see him, the way he is, a kid with so much light and love in him. Someone who won’t just see his limitations — but all of the possibilities of things that he can do. Someone who will love him and support him and never leave his side.”

Buck’s eyes are big and watery and he jumps to fill Eddie’s silence.

“Eddie, no part of you is broken. And Chris — Chris is an amazing kid. It’s impossible not to love him. Anyone who gets to be a part of your lives is lucky.”

And — of course. Of course, that’s how Buck responds. Of course, Buck skips over the quiet declaration, the subtle implications that it’s him, it’s him, it’s him — to reassure Eddie in a way that just proves that he’s everything he could ever want. Eddie nods, rests his fingertips on the counter, just on the outside of Buck’s thighs. His voice drops into a softness he rarely indulges in, a tone he saves just for the people he loves.

“I want someone who will have my back.” He watches the way Buck’s eyes widen, the way he freezes at the words. His eyes jump back and forth between Eddie’s and his mouth drops open, just a bit. Eddie continues.

“I want someone...that I can count on...and that I know, no matter what, they will always have my back.”

The silence in the room is borderline oppressive — the way Eddie can feel it surrounding them, enveloping them like a weighted blanket. He struggles to breathe as he stares back at Buck, waiting. They’ve been playing this game all night. One moves, the other waits, then they move, and the other waits. It’s Buck’s turn to make the move. Eddie doesn’t want to push him — but all his cards are on the table.

“Eddie,” Buck breathes, but nothing else follows. He’s frozen in place on the counter and Eddie knows what’s running through his mind.

It’s fear. It’s fear clawing its way up Buck’s chest, fear pressing down steady on his lungs, suffocating him. It’s fear that has every fiber of his body locked in place — unrelenting.

Buck is one of the bravest people Eddie’s ever met — and he’s met a lot of brave people. He throws himself headfirst into danger every day of his life for the lives of others. He would lay his life down on the line for anyone, no matter who, no matter what, no matter when. And he loves — he loves so fiercely, so bravely, so willingly, despite every way in which he’s been hurt before.

He’s brave not because he doesn’t feel fear — he feels it constantly, but he lives in spite of it, loves in spite of it, fights in spite of it. All Eddie wants is for him to feel safe in this, to know it's real and that he can love and not be afraid of it.

He takes another calculated risk, and lifts one of his hands from the counter, settling it gently on Buck’s thigh. He jumps, slightly, at the contact but doesn’t move away or go to remove Eddie’s hand. He swallows.

“Evan, I want you.”

And Buck can’t hold it back anymore — the fear, the want, the anger, the love. It comes bursting out of him at once. His face twists up as the emotions rush over him, and he wants to just shut his eyes, block it all out, not let them ruin this moment — but he can’t. The next thing he knows, he’s crying, breaking down sobbing in the middle of Eddie’s kitchen at the simple admission that somebody — not just somebody but Eddie — wants him.

It’s too good to be true. It has to be.

“Eddie,” Buck tries again, struggling to keep back tears. He gives Eddie that look, the one that says you don’t know what you’re talking about — I don’t believe you, and Eddie’s heart breaks.

He reaches his hands up and gently cradles Buck’s face between them; he can’t hold himself back from touching him, not anymore. Using his thumbs to wipe at Buck’s tears, he moves so that they’re eye to eye and Buck can’t look away from him.

“I love you, Buck.” And he can’t bring himself to care about the fact that it might be too soon to say it — because he’s been in love with Buck for years and in their line of work anything can happen to them at any time. If life has taught him one thing it’s that we never know when we’re going to go. And if anything were to ever happen to them and Eddie hadn’t grown the fuck up and taken the opportunity to tell Buck, this man who radiates light like the sun, who’s filled to the brim with love, who wants to give it to anyone and everyone who will accept it, who deserves love honestly returned — he doesn’t even want to think about it.

So he tells him, and he means it, and he needs Buck to know that he means it.

Buck’s face crumples on itself again. Eddie gives him a second to let more tears fall, watches as the muscles in his face move, trying to work out a response.

“Eddie,” Seems to be all he can say. He tries again.

“Buck — what do you want?”

He pauses and the tears keep streaming down his face but then he looks at Eddie, wide-eyed, and Eddie sees it — the moment that it clicks for Buck. The moment he realizes that this is real and if he wants it he can have it.

“You.”

Eddie nods, trying to keep himself from breaking down crying too, but he’s not sure it’s possible. They’re both exhausted, running on the carbs and coffee from Bobby and Athena’s and little to no sleep. But he’s grateful for anything that got them here, finally.

“You have me,” Eddie says, and he means it. “Me, Christopher, we’re yours, Buck. You’ve always had us.”

“Eddie,” Buck sobs and he’s clinging to Eddie’s shirt like it’s a lifeline. “I love you. And I love Chris. And I can’t lose you, not again, I can’t—“

“You never lost us, Buck,” Eddie shushes, pressing a solid kiss to his forehead. “Never. You might have, you know, been a dumbass once or twice. But we’ve both made mistakes. And here we are.”

Buck nods and looks around, blinking like he just realized where they were. He looks back at Eddie, eyes red from tears but a soft smile on his face nonetheless.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to make out with you on this counter.”

And — it’s tame, by his standards and Buck’s, he’s well aware of that — but something about that admission leaves him winded. He’s too startled to even respond for a second before he breaks out laughing.

It’s an effective tension cutter, and Buck laughs too.

“Really?” Eddie chuckles, letting his head drop so he can stop staring into Buck’s eyes for five seconds and breathe.

“Oh yeah,” Buck says, sniffling. He slides his hands up Eddie’s arms. “Here, and on your couch, against the wall...in your bed.”

He tacks the last part on with a kind of shyness that Eddie’s not used to hearing in Buck’s voice — especially not when it comes to sex. He looks back up again to find Buck’s eyes on him, still a little guarded and unsure.

He recognizes that a simple declaration of love isn’t enough to wash away Buck’s self-doubt — it’s not enough to fix either of them. But they’ll work on it together.

Eddie swipes his thumb across Buck’s cheekbone.

“We can do all of that, Evan,” He promises, smiling at the gentle gasp that leaves Buck at the sound of his given name.

“You know, I normally don’t like it when people call me Evan,” Buck says, dropping his hands to Eddie’s waist and letting his fingers dip under his shirt, feather-light against his skin. “But there’s something about the way you say it.”

Eddie hums in acknowledgment, bumping Buck’s nose with his and pressing gentle kisses along his jawline. Buck sighs and shrugs one shoulder.

“I dunno. It makes me feel good.”

Eddie pulls back again, eyes shining, and he smiles at Buck.

“I always want to make you feel good,” He says, and Buck tilts his head to the side, face flushing as the sweetest smile grows on his lips.

Eddie closes the space between them and presses his lips against Buck’s — gentle, at first, like a promise to keep him safe.

They kiss in the kitchen for a while, their hands lightly traveling over their arms, their backs, their chests, their thighs — a sweet exploration of something familiar and new all at once.

They kiss until they get lightheaded and Buck starts to feel like he’s floating again.

But it’s different this time, better — because they’re doing it together.

#funny how i simply cannot stop writing about them #911 fox #buddie #writing #al talks

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gautierprotectionsquad · 3 years

Text

Crossover fic: Cut&Run / AFTG. Ty Grady/Zane Garrett. Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten. Trying my best at being canon compliant.

Summary: Ty and Zane work in the Baltimore offices of the FBI. Neil Josten was taken in by the FBI in Baltimore. This crossover was practically handed right to me and the only reason no one has wrote it is bc of the lack of overlap between fandoms. Hope someone enjoys.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation in Baltimore have been after The Butcher for over 10 years. They knew it was Nathan Wesninski but were never able to gather enough evidence to convince. Well, Mr. Wesninski had just returned home from prison and the FBI were ready with a welcome home present just for him. Or at least so they thought.

Ty Grady stood, pointed his gun, ready to shoot while someone shouted "FBI. PUT YOUR HANDS UP" and agents entered the building. Someone was sitting in a chair in front of Nathan Wesninski's house. As he got closer, Ty realized that they were bleeding, another couple steps, realized they were tied to the chair.

He was just a boy. The boy smiled, crazed.

"My name is Nathaniel Wesninski and my father is dead." The boy couldn't stop laughing.

Agents left the building. One of them said "sir, everyone was dead when we walked in. No survivors. Confirmed that one of the bodies was Wesninski's.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

***

"I wasn't even aware Wesninki had a kid," Zane said as he watched Nathaniel through the 2-sided mirror.

"No one did. This is so fucked up. Tortured his own damn kid." Ty couldn't jeep the anger out of his voice. He came in first thing to see how the kid was doing, wanting to know what they’ve gotten out of him so far. They needed this kid. He was the only thing they had to crack down on the rest of the Butcher’s people.

Nathaniel aka Neil Josten had just gotten out of the hospital and was now being interrogated by two fbi agents. The boy was completely covered in bandages covering up burn marks from god knows what and deep cuts all over.

One of the agents left the room. "He's refusing to talk.”

“That man almost killed him but he’s protecting his people now?” Zane asked.

“No. He wants to talk to his team first.”

"Team?" Zane asked

"Neil Josten is the star striker for the Palmetto State Foxes exy team," Ty answered.

"You've got to be kidding me. He's been on TV?"

The other agent spoke. "They've been looking for him. We already called his coach. They're on their way in a discreet van. They'll be here soon."

****

His teammates were insane. Every single one of them. The Palmetto State Foxes were famous for being a team filled with problem children that the rest of society gave up on as well as being insanely talented. Every. Single. One of them refused to talk. The only thing they'd say is "Let me see Neil" and nothing else. Ty didn't think they knew anything anyway. It wasn't until a five foot gremlin pulled a knife on one of the agents that they decided to let them all get their way. But not without the knife kid getting handcuffed to his coach.

They put them all in a hotel room and gave them 20 minutes.

Neil agreed to tell them everything as long as Andrew, the knife gremlin, came with and that he not be put in witness protection. Instead, he'll be allowed to live his life as Neil Josten of the Palmetto State Foxes.

"Wait. He doesn't want witness protection?" Zane asked, confused.

"The coach is just as insane as the rest of them. Yeah. Nathaniel would rather play exy." said agent Brown, his hands in the air, angry that Neil had threatened him and gotten what he wanted.

For some reason, it didn't sit right with Ty that Brown was still calling him Nathaniel. Everyone that cared about the kid considered him Neil. Anyway, referring to the kid as Nathaniel Wesninski when his father's name was Nathan Wesninski was confusing as fuck and such a headache for Ty. Neil Josten was easier.

"It's sort of smart. He's a public figure. We can't take him away without everyone knowing what happened. And someone's bound to recognize him from tv. Being so visible makes him easy to find but it's also it's own form of protection. No one can kill him without risking cameras or everyone on the news talking about it."

As if to prove Ty's point, the station they were currently on started talking about Neil Josten, the sports anchors all taking a guess at what happened based only on rumors. Some of them were right, that he was kidnapped, while others were outlandish and, unfortunately for Neil Josten, not nearly as outlandish as the reality. Can't kidnap a public figure without everyone talking about it.

They all took shifts to take notes on Neil's story. It started when he was just 10 years old and it was long and impressive. Even agent Brown stopped giving Neil shit after learning about their choice to keep running rather than staying with another crime family for protection. Andrew sat next to him the whole time, clearly a calming presence for Neil, giving him strength.

Ty and Zane both came into the interrogation room after 3 hours. Zane handed Neil and Andrew some food.

"Looks like we're in the 7th inning stretch" Ty said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"I don't speak baseball," Neil said.

Ty gave Zane a pained look. Zane just smiled.

"Half time, then. Are those in exy?" Ty asked, not able to remove his rude tone.

That resulted in Neil giving a 10 minute long speech about the rules of exy. Zane was probably imagining it but for a second he thought he saw a pained look in Andrew's eyes before he went back to his usual bland expression.

Ty put his hand up. "I'm going to have to stop you there. Breaks over. We should get your story over with. The sooner you finish, the sooner we can all go home."

That shut him up. He sighed, looked at Andrew for support, then continued where he left off. His father had caught up to him and his mother and his mother had stopped to fight back. She was hurt. Bad. But she kept driving until they got to a beach and then died. Neil didn't specify which beach but he told them that he burned the car and then buried her, got rid of all their belongings and evidence and set up his current and final identity. Neil Josten. How he gave up running and just let his father capture him when he threatened his teammates.

Ty felt like he was leaving some things out but it didn't matter. They were getting names, they were going to bring Nathan Wesninski's people down. The kid was a pathological liar forced to spill his whole unfortunate life story. Let him keep a few secrets.

When he got to his father's "birthday present" Ty couldn't stop himself from gagging. Zane grimaced, also grossed out. Especially because Neil said it so casually.

"Don't worry. It was animal blood," he said as if it made everything better. Ty was reminded of Neil's look of delight when he said his father was dead. That kid was going to need some major therapy.

Ty and Zane went home late that night, not even caring if people saw them leaving together. Ty drove one handed, the other hand clasped in Zane's, resting on Zane's thigh. Neither of them spoke, knowing that both of them were thinking about Neil Josten aka Alex Rodriguez aka Johnathan Collins aka Henry West and so on and so forth. A kid that grew up with a serial killer and mobster for a father and the scars to prove it. A kid kept hidden and then forced on the run until he couldn't run anymore.

Ty knew Neil was lying about not knowing where the rest of the money his mother stole from his father was but Ty didn't give a shit. Not like the other agents like Brown would. Let the kid have it.

Finally, Zane spoke up. "So what the fuck is exy?"

Ty chuckled. "Didn't you hear the kid's 10 minute long rant?"

"Those rules don't even make any sense. How is it even physically possible to stop a goal. And what do you mean mouth guards are optional?"

"I'll put a game on when we get home and you'll see. I hear the knife gremlin's insanely talented. Like Olympian level."

Zane lay on the couch while Ty put on a rerun of a Palmetto Foxes exy game, the one right before Neil got kidnapped. Ty plopped down on the top of Zane, making Zane grunt, and got comfortable.

Zane read more about the players on his phone. Seeing that 2 of the foxes, including Andrew Minyard's twin brother, were recovering drug addicts made him a lot more invested in the game.

THE END.

#fanfiction #fanfic #aftg #all for the game #cut & Run #crossover fic #the foxes #the king's men #ty grady #zane garrett #neil josten #andrew minyard #Nathaniel wesninski #romanticsap

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Take it Slow - Part Sixty-Four

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, and the start of smut...

a/n: okay this is short only because the angst made me tired, and it’s late, and I wanna deliver on the smut so....that’s that on that.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“Holy shit! Someone got some sun!” Niall says as you get into his car Monday morning. He squints at your neck. “He knows it’s not really scarf weather anymore, right?”

“I’ve lost the energy to care or fight with him about it. Besides, I’m sure it’ll go right up Mark’s ass. What a nice treat for me.” You laugh. “How was it last week, anyways?”

“Good! The three of ‘em actually kept to themselves which was nice. You gave him plenty of work to do.”

“Oh good.”

“How was Harry, happy to see yeh?”

“Of course he was.” You furrow your brows at him. “Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

“I’m not the one who got into a fight.”

“Niall.” You sigh.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry about all of it. It was stupid, and primitive.”

“I appreciate you both looking out for me, but I wish you wouldn’t be angry for me. I feel like I’m really moving on, and it’s hard to do that when the two of you can’t keep your cool.”

“I know, I really am sorry.” He gives your hand a squeeze and you smile at him.

“It’s okay. Wait! How was yours and Sarah’s six month? I haven’t had a chance to ask her yet?” Niall nearly stops short on the drive.

“Um, it was good, really good. I got her a new anklet, and she really liked it. We had a nice dinner out too.”

“Oh that’s great!” He parks the car and you both get out. “Hope you enjoyed what she got for you.” You wink at him and head inside.

“We’re not talkin’ about it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, have we reached a point where we can’t talk about sex anymore?” You ask facetiously. Niall’s face was beat red.

“Don’t play with me. I know you two went shoppin’ together.”

“She wanted a second opinion.” You shrug.

“Wasn’t it weird for you to go shoppin’ with her?”

“Not really. They went shopping with me earlier in the day to get something for Harry. We’re all very close.”

“What else did you get for him?”

“What do you mean what else?” You cross your arms.

Just as he’s about to speak you both are greeted by Trish.

“We’ll talk later.” He says and you nod as you both go to your separate offices.

You had a meeting right away with Mark that you were dreading. He was waiting for you outside your office.

“Welcome back.” He says with a smile. “See you got some sun.”

“Thanks, and yeah I did.” You unlock your office door and he follows you in. “I just need a minute to get settled.”

“Take your time.” He says sitting down.

You plug your laptop into the docking station and get logged on. You start looking over some of the things Mark worked on, and you actually weren't disappointed.

“Took some time to watch some of those videos on the Adobe site, turns out you were right, it’s not that difficult to learn.

“I’m actually kind of impressed, Mark.” You smile at him.

“Thanks.” He smiles back. He notices your neck, but doesn’t say anything. You’re actually being nice to him and he doesn’t want to ruin it. “So, boss, what do you need me to work on this week?” You smirk at him.

“Well, I’ll have to go over all this and get back to you. Is that alright?”

“Course, I’ll just be with the others in the conference room.”

You weren’t sure what it was, but Mark seemed to have a serious attitude adjustment, and you liked it. Maybe the rest of the time he’d be working with you wouldn’t be so bad. You look over everything, and make up a list of what you’ll need from him. You go into the conference room right before you leave to meet Harry for lunch, it was Monday after all.

“Hey Mark, here’s what I’ll need from you this week.”

“Thanks. We’re all going down the street for lunch, do you wanna join?”

“Can’t, sorry, I go to Harry’s studio on Mondays.” You walk out, and go down to Niall’s office. “Need your keys to meet Harry.” He tosses them to you. “Thanks! Have a good lunch.” You smile.

“You too!”

Harry was having the day from hell. Somehow word got out that Harry and Mariah had become chummy outside of work, and that he set her up with Rachel. Someone must’ve seen a picture of them hanging out last week on Instagram.

“Harry?” Julia asks, coming into his office.

“Yeah?”

“This is sort of non work related, but I was wondering if you could help me with a school thing…”

“I thought you weren’t in any classes this semester.”

“I’m not, but we have a faculty member we’re supposed to pass things in to for the internship to prove that we’re actually doing stuff. I’ve never really put a portfolio together, and I was wondering if you could help me now that I’ve written a few things.”

“Oh…um…”

“I’d ask Myk, but I want it to look really nice and you’re so creative.” If Harry had any faults, it would be that he could be sweet-talked into just about anything.

“Sure, yeah, I’d be happy to help. I’d have to help you at the end of the day though when I have more time.”

“Really?! Thank you so much! Would tomorrow after work be alright?” You had your therapy appointment tomorrow, so it wasn’t like Harry would be missing precious time with you at home.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Thank you Harry, this’ll be such a big help!” Harry turns and sees you walking in.

“No problem, run along now, my lady’s here.” He nods towards you and she walked out of his office. You brush by her as you walk in. “Hey you.” He stands up to hug you, and squish his nose to yours. “Have I told you how happy I am that you’re back?”

“Maybe just a couple times.” You kiss him quick. “It’s nice out, wanna eat outside?”

“Sure.” He grabs his things and heads out with you.

“So, what did Julia want?”

“Oh, she wants me to help her put a portfolio together for school. I’m gonna help her tomorrow while you’re with Dr. Mara, is that alright?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Why would I care?”

“You don’t exactly like her.”

“Neither do you.”

“True.” You both chuckle.

Julia purposefully wears a tight dress to work Tuesday. She couldn’t wait to spend time with just Harry in the office alone. She wouldn’t make the same mistake she did last time. She needed to be less obvious, and she genuinely needed his help with her portfolio.

You: babe, want me to bring you dinner after my appointment? Can meet u at the studio

Harry: that’d be great! Pick up whatever u want <3

Julia comes into Harry’s office with her laptop at the end of the day. Everyone slowly starts to leave. He grabs a chair for her so they can both sit at his desk.

“So, I have these pieces that I’ve done, and I really have no idea how to organize any of them. I wanna give my instructor a virtual experience you know? But I don’t wanna just use prezi or screen record.” Harry hums along in understanding.

“With my photos, I’ve sort created these, like, virtual booklets almost. There’s this program, hold on, let me email you.”

Harry sends her the info so she can set up an account.

“I think your prof will be impressed that you’re putting in so much effort.” He smiles.

“It’s not every day we get to basically take a semester off from classes, so I just wanna prove to her, and to all my friends that think I’m not doing anything that I’m actually working really hard.”

“You shouldn’t care what other people think of you, but I get where you’re coming from. Alright, pull up all your articles and I’ll show you how to add them into the program.”

He leans in close and points to where she can drag and drop things. She tries her absolute best to not get distracted by the smell of his cologne. After an hour or so they take a little break.

“So, you have a year left?”

“Mhm.”

“What do you think you’ll do after you graduate?”

“I have no idea.” She sighs. “I think I wanna travel. I could see myself freelancing for a bit before finding something stable.”

“You should definitely travel! I’m glad I did. You learn a lot about yourself, helps you grow up a little bit too.” He smiles at her. “Also, it’s okay to have no idea what you want to do. It’s not like graduating automatically means you’ll have it all figured out. Your passions will change all the time, and you might find you didn’t want what you thought.”

“Was there something you thought you’d be doing but realized you didn’t wanna do?”

“Yes and no. I knew I wanted to be a photographer. I thought for a while I’d end up in marketing with my mate Niall, especially while I was going for my MBA. But the structure was just too rigid. I also didn’t wanna wear a suit every day.”

“That’s too bad, you look so good in a suit.” She jokes nervously.

“True, I do clean up pretty well.” He jokes back. “But I just knew it wasn’t for me. There’s too many people to answer to. Even here there’s a lot of people to answer to, but I feel like my vision gets trusted more and more and I’m able to just do what I want. I think that’s the key. Do something you want, not something that someone else wants for you.”

“That makes so much sense. You really have it all figured out.”

“S’not that I have it all figured it out, but I’ve had a lot of experience to steer me in different directions.”

“I feel like I have a better head on my shoulders than a lot of my friends. This internship alone has been such a big help.”

“Good. Let’s get back to it, shall we?”

He leans back in closer and shows her some other things to make the virtual booklet look more interesting and engaging. He cracks a joke or two and she ends up putting a hand on his shoulder while she laughs.

You were just coming up from the elevator with dinner. You picked up some of his favorite sushi. It was dark in the studio except for Harry’s office. Julia’s hand was still lingering on Harry’s shoulder. She gripped lightly at the material, and his eyes went wide.

“Woah, what are you-“ He starts to stand up.

“Hey!” You say dropping the food to the floor. You grab the back of Julia’s dress and yank her over to the wall in Harry’s office, practically throwing her into the glass. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

“Nothing, I was just-“

“You were just trying to kiss my boyfriend?!” Your hand wraps around her throat and you push her back against the glass again. Harry wraps his arms around your waist to pull your away from her the girl cowering in front of you. You try to break from him, but he’s too strong. “I will end your shit, do you understand me?!”

“Julia, get your shit and go, now.” Harry says, very pissed, but not wanted to add more fuel to the fire.

Her body shakes as she grabs her laptop.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“You didn’t mean to what?! Try to kiss him?! You’re a psycho! He already told you he wasn’t going to step out on me, remember when you tried to fuck him in Florida? He told me everything! I think I’ve been very nice, but I’m done. I am soooo done.” You look back at him. “Let go of me.” Harry cautiously loosens his grip on you and you get in her face. She uses her laptop to shield her. “As god as my witness, if you don’t leave him alone, if I even hear of you looking in his direction, I will end you. Your life will be over. You’ll get fired from this internship, cause guess what, you’ve been sexually harassing him. And don’t look at me like you don’t know that’s exactly what you’ve been doing. You’ll get fired, you won’t have a good enough reference for your next job, and you won’t get hired anywhere. You’ll live in your parent’s basement for the rest of your life all because you couldn’t keep your fucking hands to yourself after he said no.” You look her up and down. “You think you’re special just because he’s nice to you? Just because you wear a tight dress you thought he would get into your pants? Guess what little girl, I used to pull the same shit when I was your age. Grow the fuck up. And I don’t care if you’re the coffee girl. Have Dana do it, or Isaac. I don’t care. It’s not you anymore. Stay the fuck away from him.” You step forward again and she flinches.

You smirk at her, and she slips out of the office, running out of the studio. You turn around to Harry with wild eyes. He was absolutely stunned, and a tad frightened. You were fuming.

“Would you care to explain to me why her hand was on you in the first place?” You ask crossing your arms.

“I know you’re not blaming me for any of this.” He starts packing up his things. “You better hope she doesn’t report you threatening her.”

“She better hope you don’t go to H.R.! She’s lucky you didn’t report her when the thing in Florida happened!”

“You know as well as I do she could’ve turned that around and said I came to her room. It wasn’t worth the headache. I had the situation under control.”

“Did you?! It looked like she was about to kiss you, Harry!”

“You need to calm down! I would’ve never let that happen! I was about to stand up and tell her we were done.”

“Why. Was. She. Touching. You?” You step closer to him.

“I don’t know. I made some joke, she laughed, and then she put her on my shoulder. I noticed she started to grab at the material so I was about to get up. S’not like she grabbed my dick, Y/N.”

He walks out of the office and you follow him. He turns the light off and locks the door. He sighs and picks up the food from the ground.

“This should still be fine, nothin’ came out of the packaging.”

“How could you even eat?! I feel absolutely sick to my stomach!” You both walk over near Isaac’s desk where there’s more light.

“Babe, I-“

“Don’t babe me!” You put a finger in his face. “Only I get to touch you, do you understand? Me, only me!” Your eyes well up with tears and he puts everything down to wrap you in his arms. He hugs you to his chest. You cry into him.

“S’not worth your tears, love.” He strokes the back of your head. “I’m upset too, don’t get me wrong. I don’t like that anyone thinks they could touch me. You’re the only one I want touchin’ me. I only want you, Y/N.” You look up at him and he wipes your tears away.

“I didn’t mean to get so upset. I just came from therapy, and then I walked in and saw that, and I lost it.”

“I thought you were goin’ to throw her through the glass.” He chuckles. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen yeh like that before.”

“Oh, have I never told you that I’m a black belt? All my siblings and I did karate growing up. I could literally end her shit.”

“You’ve been keepin’ something like that from me all this time?” He says with a fake gasp.

“You’re only supposed to use it in certain situations.” He kisses the top of your head. “Shit, are there security cameras here?”

“Yeah, but Isaac’s the one who checks them in the morning. I’ll text him and ask him to not say anything to anyone.”

“Okay.”

You both leave and meet at home. Harry puts the sushi in the fridge, suddenly also not feeling hungry. He texts Isaac, and he tells him Julia is to not interact with him anymore.

“Harrryyyy.” You whine from the bedroom. He comes in to meet you.

“Sorry, I was just…textin…Jesus.” You had changed into the lingerie you hadn’t worn during the photoshoot. You had something behind your back.

“You were texting Jesus?” You giggle.

“How do you get more beautiful each time I see you?” A grin grows over your face.

“I have a lot of adrenaline built up.”

“Do you now?”

“Mhm.”

“What’s that behind your back?”

“I think you already know. I had a little chat with Sarah today. You and Niall tend to gossip more than she and I do.” Harry starts to sweat. You blush and toss the cockring to him. “Wanna have a little fun, baby boy?”

He smirks and nods. He puts the little package on the bed and starts to undress. He had never used one before, all he knew was that they made an erection last longer, so he just figured you wanted to go a few rounds tonight. But you had much more in store for him.

#harry styles #take it slow #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles sluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #harry styles angst fic #yall i laughed when i saw this was under 3k im so sorry #i thought it was longer #i just couldn't write the smut man #tomorrow tho he gone get it #come hang in my ask box!

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imgoingtocrash · 4 years

Text

knowing (of everything she doesn’t)

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: G

Word Count: 9,097

Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Morgan Stark & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & Michelle Jones, Happy Hogan & Peter Parker

Summary:

“Mister Stark means a lot to me, M,” Peter says firmly, effectively ending the discussion.

“I know,” she answers, squeezing his hand where it rests over the cupholder between them.

Looking out the window, what she thinks to herself is: do you mean that much to him?

Maybe it’s overprotective or presumptuous of her—she’s only known Peter well for a couple of years and has been dating him for less than one.

It’s just—in all that time, in all of the stories of his alter-ego’s exploits that he’s finally shared…she just can’t see how the universe-saving multibillionaire fits into all of this.

MJ joins Peter for a Thanksgiving visit to the Starks' lake house. It turns out that even after years of quiet observation and a few months of dating, there are still things about Peter Parker and his life that manage to surprise her.

Read on AO3

My gift for @peter-stank for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!!! Happy belated Birthday, Beedee, and thank you so much for your amazing contributions to the fandom. Hopefully you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3 (Fic also under the cut, as requested by the exchange/until reveal.)

They’re an hour into a two and a half hour drive when Michelle decides to drop the question.

“Isn’t it weird?” MJ asks. “Casually being invited to your boss’s house for Thanksgiving?”

Peter shrugs, but she can see the way his shoulders tense underneath his hoodie when he answers, “Maybe. Before.”

Before doesn’t need to be clarified. The Blip.

“Besides, he makes a mean turkey stuffing. I promise, that’s worth it,” Peter attempts to deflect, the barest hint of a smile directed her way.

But Michelle has never been good at leaving well enough alone. She asks too many questions, sometimes makes people uncomfortable. It’s how she got good at academic decathlon and how she (mostly) figured out Peter was Spider-Man.

“What changed?”

“Hm?”

“The Blip was traumatic for everyone in one way or another. Why did it change things with Tony?” She never refers to him as Mister Stark despite Peter rarely ever calling his mentor anything else.

“It just…did.” Peter shrugs again, eyes determinately focused on the road ahead and far away from her. “He lost me, I almost lost him, it sucked. That’s all.”

“Okay, but—“ It just doesn’t make sense to her that he was an intern at SI or a superhero colleague or whatever, and somehow it added up to…whatever this is. Schlepping up to the Catskills in Peter’s hand-me-down Toyota for a few days at the Starks’ cabin. Like, that’s just a thing that Peter has been invited to do, and he doesn’t think anything of it.

“Mister Stark means a lot to me, M,” Peter says firmly, effectively ending the discussion.

“I know,” she answers, squeezing his hand where it rests over the cupholder between them.

Looking out the window, what she thinks to herself is: do you mean that much to him?

Maybe it’s overprotective or presumptuous of her—she’s only known Peter well for a couple of years and has been dating him for less than one.

It’s just—in all that time, in all of the stories of his alter-ego’s exploits that he’s finally shared…she just can’t see how the universe-saving multibillionaire fits into all of this.

They arrive at the lake house just as the sun’s setting, the orange hues reflecting across the water.

A loud thwack breaks the relative silence that’s formed by the car’s engine turning off.

“Petey!” shrieks the high pitched little voice that accompanies a little blur of movement out of the house.

Peter’s already unbuckling his seatbelt, a smile blown wide across his face. He kicks the door open—used to the way it sometimes sticks—and just barely misses hitting the brown-haired little girl that can only be Morgan Stark in her precious little head.

“Morgie!” Peter shouts in a parrot of her tone, not bothering to shut the door behind him before he picks up the five-year-old girl, spinning them both around in circles while she screams with laughter.

“’S so good to see you,” Peter says, pressing sloppy kisses to Morgan’s cheeks. “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah! Daddy said you were coming for a whole week this time, and I have a whole list of movies that you have to watch with me, and—“

Morgan trails on, but MJ is watching Peter—his attention is zeroed in on the girl in his arms, his megawatt grin on full display. He’s comfortable with her. She called him Petey—a nickname she knows is usually reserved only for May. She knew Peter was close with Morgan, but she’d always assumed it was in that way she sees her younger cousins every holiday and they think she’s the coolest person in the world for exactly eight hours, and then they don’t see or speak to each other again until the next family event, rinse and repeat.

The girl stops herself, moving her eyes directly to MJ and locking on. She’s always kind of hated that about little kids—they look into your soul and just kind of know things.

“Who’s that?” Morgan asks, more firmly wrapping her arms around Peter, as if to protect him.

(The only danger Peter’s been in from MJ in the last three hours was during their argument about road trip playlists. Particularly, Peter’s memetic gag of repeating What’s New Pussycat? on the same playlist multiple times and thinking she wouldn’t stop it before the first It’s Not Unusual.)

Michelle decides to get out of the car and introduce herself instead of awkwardly staring through the open door. It’s a bit of a chore—the passenger door’s handle is finicky—but she gets out without landing her ass in the mud and considers it a win. She still wipes her hands on her pants as she rounds the car, trying to remove any weird, nervous sweat. She’s not worried about it. She’s fine.

“I’m, um. Michelle,” she states, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Morgan’s head quirks to the side, looking Michelle up and down before she screams, “Daddy, Petey brought some weird stranger to Thanksgiving!” directly into Peter’s ear.

“Ow,” he hisses, rubbing at his earlobe. “Morgan, that’s not cool, MJ is—“

Morgan doesn’t let Peter finish, sticking out her tongue and wriggling out of Peter’s arms, running off towards the house as fast as she came out of it.

Tony Stark himself opens the screen door of the cabin next, chuckling as his daughter weaves between his legs. The effects from the battle with Thanos are clear—though it’s less intense than she imagines it was a year ago. White scar tissue spindles through the right side of Tony’s face, following down under his t-shirt and transitioning into to the metal arm painted the iconic Iron Man color scheme of red and gold.

Peter showed her the specs of that arm shortly after they got together—apparently Tony finished his rehab just after their trip to Europe, and it was supposed to be a gift from Peter. Seeing it on the man himself is…daunting, to say the least.

“Sorry about her,” Tony says, easing himself down the stairs as he approaches. There’s no kind of limp, but he seems to take his time with it all the same. “She gets a little territorial with us sometimes. Pep says we need to get her around more kids her own age, but the idea of sending her off to preschool…”

He shakes his head like he’s clearing cobwebs. She has to admit, he seems more human like this, surrounded by nature, talking about his daughter, the sun showing the lighter, grey strands of his hair more clearly.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony says, pulling Peter into a hug. It’s not just a one-armed casual sort of hug either, but a full one that goes on for a minute, dramatically rocking them back and forth. “Ugh, I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few days, Mister Stark!” Peter’s laughing reply is muffled into Tony’s shoulder. When they come apart, the smile from earlier has returned. Tony’s hands—robotic and human—have moved to Peter’s shoulders.

“A week. A whole week! I can’t spend that much time away from you anymore. It aggravates my angina.”

“Now you’re just trying to be embarrassing,” Peter grumbles, reluctant when the other man runs his hand through Peter’s gelled hair and musses it up just so.

“Absolutely,” Tony admits. He turns to Michelle. “You must be the famous scary girlfriend.”

“You’re just as bad as Morgan!” Peter whines. MJ isn’t sure she’s ever heard him sound so childish in his life despite the fact that he acts like a giant, overexcited goofball ninety percent of the time.

“My reputation precedes me,” Michelle ends up replying, shaking Tony’s hand when it’s offered. For some reason she was more nervous to meet Morgan than her father. Maybe it’s just her instinct to not be intimidated by rich tycoon types. Then again…she and the rest of the world know that he’s much more than that. Still. Old habits die hard.

“Now see, she can take a joke. I like her,” Tony says, nodding at Peter. Peter’s face goes a soft red, just edging on a full blush. She doesn’t really care if Tony likes her, but Peter clearly does.

Tony hooks an arm around both of their shoulders, leading them up to the house.

“Seriously, it’s good to have you guys. I’ve kind of been dreaming about the holidays—it got me through a lot of my physical therapy sessions,” he admits. It seems to be a more vulnerable comment than he lets on—Peter leans his head onto Tony’s shoulder. He’s almost too tall for it, but it’s…weirdly sweet. Peter’s big on physical comfort, as she now knows. Apparently even Tony has gotten used to it.

“Christmas is going to be a goddamn blow out, trust me,” Tony continues, breaking their grouping to lead them into the house. “Wall to wall Avengers, a mountain of presents. I’m slowly but surely convincing Pepper to let me build a fully functioning Santa’s sleigh to put on the roof.”

“No, he’s not,” comes a voice from deeper in the house. Pepper Potts steps in from what must be the kitchen, wiping flour off on the apron around her waist. “I will accept the light-up ones that are meant to be decoration and nothing else.”

Pepper presses a finger into her husband’s chest firmly, spreading a puff of flour and accenting her point with a quick peck to his lips. It’s a surprisingly domestic scene. She looks at Peter, and he’s looking at her already, soft doe eyes and a mind probably full of gross, sweet things that are way, way in their future.

Dork, she mouths. His returning smile is predictably un-cowed.

“You kids are just adorable,” Tony comments. Pepper nudges him with an elbow on her way to Peter.

“Hi, sweetie,” she says, pressing a kiss to his head and holding her hands up. “I’d hug you but—“

“All good,” Peter replies. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No, no. You unpack, relax. I’ve got it, just—semi-literally have my fingers in a lot of pies, right now.”

“That’s code for please, god, don’t let a Parker near my cooking,” Tony whispers to her.

“Enhanced. Hearing.” Peter’s look at his mentor is the closest to peeved that he really gets. (She has to admit, though—there’s a reason they mostly go out or order in on dates. Cooking isn’t really either of their fortes.)

“Boys,” Pepper hums. It sounds like this is a common occurrence in the Stark household. “It’s nice to meet you, Michelle. Peter talks about you all the time. Again, I’d shake your hand, but—“ She holds up her palms, shrugging.

“No it’s—super awesome to meet you. Thank you for having me.” It’s actually beyond awesome. Despite her beef with Stark Industries and their ilk, she has to admit Pepper Potts is pretty high on her list of inspirational female powerhouses. She became CEO at 40 with only a Bachelor’s in Business and a Fine Arts minor, and Stark Industries entered a historic era of technology production and philanthropy under her guidance.

“Oh my god, you’re totally starstruck right now, aren’t you?” Peter questions in her ear, quieter than Tony so that only she hears.

“Shut up,” she says between her teeth, swatting at his arm without breaking her smile at Pepper.

Pepper smiles, giving Tony a look that Michelle can’t decipher. It might be flirtatious? Are she and Peter reminding Pepper of Tony and herself when they were younger? Her life is so weird, right now.

“I’ll go get our stuff,” Peter offers, out the screen door before she can argue that she doesn’t need his help. Like, it’s nice that her boyfriend can lift an entire car’s worth of stuff in one go, but she doesn’t always need him to. It feels a little…exploitative of his powers, somehow.

“I have a five-year-old to console,” Tony says, then quirks his head. “Chide? Eh, I’ll feel it out in the moment. Maybe a little of both. Make yourself comfortable, Michelle.”

Pepper watches Tony ascend the stairs, a what can you do? sort of look on her face towards MJ.

“Seriously, you and Peter have the afternoon to yourselves. If you need anything, just ask FRIDAY.” Pepper points up to the ceiling, as if that’s where the AI lives—which, maybe it does—before she turns around and attends to the beeping timer coming from the kitchen.

Michelle’s had a little experience with Peter’s AI, Karen, but the whole house being run by a super AI is something totally out of the norm. Honestly, she’ll probably just ask Peter any questions to avoid conversing with it.

She takes the chance alone to really observe her surroundings. From the outside the house looked like a pretty rustic cabin, but inside it’s a mostly-open floor plan mix of modern design and homey decor.

In particular, she notices the walls and surfaces are covered in pictures. The entryway features what can only be a shot of Tony and Pepper’s wedding day. The lake is featured behind them—Tony in a suit, Pepper in a white maternity dress that accentuates her pregnant belly.

Further into the living area there’s a larger variety of shots: Baby Morgan in Tony’s arms at the hospital, a few older shots with faces Michelle recognizes—Bruce Banner, James Rhodes, and even a group shot of the Avengers, smiling and receiving Medals of Honor from the Mayor of New York.

Nestled in a few shots of Morgan at a few different ages is a familiar face. Peter is pictured with Tony—it’s a selfie that was clearly printed, Peter making a goofy face combating Tony’s unamused expression. Next to it is a more recent picture. It appears to be from the spring shortly after the battle. Morgan is sitting in Peter’s lap, her hands covered in sticky popsicle juice while Peter is taking a lick from the offered desert over her shoulder. Clearly a candid moment.

Finally, nestled in-between a shot of the Starks teaching a younger Morgan how to swim and a press picture of Tony and Pepper from a gala she can’t identify is one of Peter and Tony on the very couch next to her, both of them asleep and pajama-clad, like they’d fallen asleep like that the night before and someone caught it the morning after.

“Ugh, that one’s so bad,” Peter says, suddenly behind her. He has a talent for sneaking up on her, one that would probably be more useful if he wasn’t always running his mouth and announcing his presence, particularly to bad guys. “Of course you found it.”

“I didn’t realize—“ she starts, but frowns, unsure of exactly what she’s thinking. It’s so…homey, here, and Peter’s clearly welcome. She knew he visited a lot, but this… “You’re all over the place.”

Peter clearly doesn’t think anything of it, shrugging. “I, um. We didn’t have anywhere to go after, you know?”

He’s never comfortable talking about the Blip or the battle against Thanos. A lot of people aren’t, but Peter in particular always stumbles through it. In the months of their dating, he’s only brought it up if she’s asked, never on his own.

“We lived here for a while. Our old apartment belonged to someone else, but May wouldn’t take any charity, wouldn’t accept the Starks’ penthouse in the city. She and Pepper looked for a place in Queens for months, but there were suddenly all of those people looking for housing…”

He loses himself for a moment. He does this sometimes too, drifting off like he’s disconnected, unable to keep himself in the here and now.

She takes his hand, and with a squeeze he comes back. There aren’t any tears, but there’s a weight in his eyes that she recognizes: guilt. For having a home when others still don’t months later. For failing at stopping Thanos the first time. For any number of other things he’s yet to reveal to her.

“Peter…” she tries, but what can she say? It’s times like this that she wishes she was…more. That she was better equipped to handle this superhero life that he’s so dedicated to. He takes the weight of the world on his shoulders, and she hasn’t figured out exactly how to give him a break, to take some of the weight as her own, or if she ever can.

“It’s fine, I’m—anyway, it was just…kind of nice, after everything that happened. Tony was recovering from here, Pepper was working from home a lot, Morgan was scared, I was…” He clears his throat, not finishing the sentence. “It was good to have everyone under one roof for a while, that’s all.”

She tucks herself into his side in a hug, unsure how else to respond. He would accept platitudes but he wouldn’t believe them. She rarely knows the right thing to say, anyway. Maybe this is the best she can do.

He pats her shoulder, breaking the quiet. “Come on, I’ll show you upstairs.”

Peter keeps his arm around her as they walk, squeezing them both up the stairs with their backpacks in hand.

“We’re staying in my room.” He stops walking, stiffening in a way that makes her feel—well, her age. They haven’t even really discussed sex, but any discussions past their first few chaste kisses have turned out a little awkward, stumbling forward because neither of them have dated before this.

“I mean, as long as that’s okay with you, I can take the couch, or—“

“No, no, that’s fine. We’ve shared before,” she mumbles, knowing there have been a few times May must have seen them asleep on Peter’s bed and let them be. She assumes his aunt’s open door policy will stay in place, likely why the Starks are okay with them sharing. Not like she has much desire to do anything in the Starks’ house, and especially with a five-year-old only a few rooms away.

“Your room?” she asks, moving them along. She assumed he and May just shared a guest bed or something that he just took over whenever he visited, not that he had a room of his own.

“It, ah—Mister Stark insisted,” Peter laughs, but mixed in with the slight embarrassment is something warm too, shown by how Peter’s gaze turns to the door clearly labeled Morgan’s Room in a pretty cursive font, likely Pepper’s work. She can hear the soft murmurs of Tony’s voice in the room, meaning that Peter can probably hear the entire conversation.

There’s a bathroom in the hall that’s a mix of Morgan’s colorful bath toys and what she knows is Peter’s deodorant sitting on the sink counter. Next to Morgan’s room is another bedroom, likely Tony and Pepper’s. At the end of the hall is where they stop, the unmarked door holding a room that is different from Peter’s in New York, but funnily enough, almost more expressive of him.

Peter hasn’t made it a secret that he doesn’t love his new apartment—it’s smaller than their old place, and devoid of the memories from his Uncle Ben’s presence. He seems to think there’s not much point in decorating it with the future expectation of college dorms ahead of them, and has apparently spilled most of his personal effects across this room instead.

The A New Hope poster on the wall is one of the nicer reproductions, framed and—signed by Mark Hamill, of course, probably a gift from Tony. A hologram is up on the desk, the Spider-Man symbol lazily floating around like a desktop screensaver. There are a few Lego sets unfinished in the corner—Peter rarely finishes them without Ned to keep them on task.

It’s Peter spilling out of every crumpled sheet of loose-leaf paper, every sneaker missing its mate.

Peter immediately takes to cleaning up the array of dirty clothes on the floor, mumbling apologies. She spies a faded hoodie with the cracked screen-printing of MIT’s logo among the mess before he scoops it up too.

“I was in a hurry last time I was here, sorry. Pepper says she won’t clean up after me because it sets a bad example for Morgan—which I totally get! But also, I mean, you’ve met me.”

It’s as self-explanatory as he makes it sound—he has a busy life. Sometimes, when stuff is crazy, a few dirty socks on the floor don’t really matter so much.

However, she also senses that some part of him likes the mess. His room in the city is a cramped box, and the charging case for the Iron Spider takes up an entire corner on its own. Here, he’s free to spread himself across the floors and up the walls as much as he likes.

“Yeah, Parker, you are kind of a mess,” she teases, only smiling more at his response of wrinkling his nose up at her.

“Anyway,” he continues with a grunt, flinging a sock into a hamper that’s overfull like he’s some kind of basketball star and frowning when it bounces into the floor instead. “Since Pepper’s kicked us out of the kitchen and Mo is being a grouch, we can do whatever. FRIDAY has any movie or show you could want—comedies, romcoms, that sad documentary about polar bears you like…“

“It’s not sad, it’s realistic.”

“What’s real is that you watched me cry about the ice caps melting for like thirty minutes, M.”

He brings her close, wrapping his arms around her waist and swaying them in place like it’s some kind of grand romantic moment, the two of them bickering in the middle of his messy bedroom at Tony Stark’s house. For some reason she has the impression that he’ll spurt into a tall and lanky mess in a few years, but for now she’s still looking down at him just a smidge, meaning he’s looking up at her all…mushy and enamored.

“As we all should,” she replies, failing to sound serious because she’s suddenly distracted by the hint of Peter’s teeth peeking out of his smile. Her boyfriend is so cute, which, yes, she knew that, but it’s just—he’s so much, Peter Parker, and she’s barely even scratched the surface after quietly watching him for years and thinking she had him all figured out. It’s intimidating, to see the open emotion on his face and know there’s even more that she’d never considered underneath.

“I—“ She takes a breath, trying to recover from the flustered blush that’s creeped up her cheeks without her permission. “Nap. I could go for a nap. That sounds good, right?”

Peter’s smile grows—he’s always so entertained when he breaks her brain like this, so smug that he’s one of the only people that can.

At her warning look, he lets her awkward stumbling drop, holding up his hands. “Yeah, MJ, that’s—sounds good.”

“That’s what I thought.”

If she picked that activity for an excuse to hold Peter close for a few hours alone after the barrage of meeting so many new people, well, no one has to know.

“Pete.” A voice she only vaguely recognizes is within the edge of her consciousness. It’s not her step-father, so she chooses to ignore it, snuggling into the warmth under her head further. “Spiiiider-baby. Kiddo, c’mon, wake up.”

Her eyes open just a slit—watery vision turned milky by the overpowering beam of light that leaks in. In the darkness of the room, she finds Peter’s face, still firmly buried in his pillow. Behind him, partially obscured by the curve of his shoulder and the powerful light from the hallway, is Tony.

He smiles when he catches her eyes. “Not the one I planned on, but hey, one out of two’s not bad.”

“Peeetey,” Tony tries Peter again, this time accompanying his calls with a touch to Peter’s head, he’s—running his hand through Peter’s hair? Is she dreaming? “Buddy, it’s time to get up. It’s dinnertime.”

“Hm?” finally comes Peter’s groggy response, slurred as he turns into Tony’s hand.

“Magic words,” Tony jokes to her, stroking Peter’s curls again, fully mussing what’s already been ruined by their nap.

“Feels nice,” Peter sighs. He squeezes the arm he has around MJ, as if for emphasis. “M’comfy.”

“Aw, they’re so cute when they’re sleepy,” Tony full-on coos, and that seems to do it, eliciting a groan from Peter’s chest against her ear.

“You’re so embarrassing, Mister Stark.” Peter bats Tony’s hand away this time, rubbing at his eyes and flitting them over to the holographic clock on the desk—6:30 PM.

“We slept a while.”

“I’ll say. I had Morgan all primed for an apology and you two were totally passed out.”

MJ removes herself from Peter’s hold, running a hand through her loosened ponytail and catching a few matted curls with a frown.

Tony turns up the lights slowly, sliding the switch to half-power.

“I negotiated that you two would watch Mulan with her after dinner, by the way. She tests people with how they react to Disney movies. Don’t ask me why.”

Peter nods solemnly, stretching his arms with a few quick pops.

“I got Tangled. Ned and I went to see it with Ned’s little sister as kids, but I still got all choked up at the whole hair-cutting scene. Cemented me with her for life.”

Peter literally rolls off of the bed, landing on his feet as if he’d simply sat up and stood like a normal person.

She and Tony are similarly unimpressed.

“The fact that you also act like her personal spidery-jungle-gym probably doesn’t hurt either,” he comments.

“You’re just mad that she doesn’t play Iron Man as much anymore.”

Tony sniffs, but doesn’t deny it. “Pizza’s getting cold. Pepper was too tired to cook anything else tonight, and I instantly agreed.”

“But have you ever had pizza for Thanksgiving?” Peter inquires, tapping his skull with his pointer finger like this idea holds the secrets of the universe. “You order the night before and eat it reheated the next day. No cooking required.”

“Just say May burned a turkey the year before and you were scared,” Tony replies. “It’s so much faster that way.”

“I’ll have you know it was Uncle Ben who was scared—“

By the time they’ve moved on to weighing the importance of tradition versus creating new traditions, Michelle has managed to brush her hair back into a more controlled ponytail and has splashed a little water on her face in the bathroom.

They’re still in Peter’s room going at it when she returns.

“You guys talk a lot,” she interrupts.

They both go silent, look at each other, then shrug. It’s like looking into a mirror, in a weird way, and she’s concerned that she’s dating half of that mirror when the other half is Tony Stark, who spent years flying around in a suit of armor and almost died on multiple occasions.

“Daddy!” Morgan thumps her way up the stairs, sliding into Tony’s legs on socked feet. “Mommy said you’re taking too long.”

Tony easily brings his daughter into his arms, bouncing her on his hip and leading them down the stairs that way.

“Oh she did, did she?” he asks, voice taking on a playful quality. “That doesn’t sound like Mommy. She usually just tells me to hurry the fu—“

“Mister Stark!” Peter interjects, slapping his hands over Morgan’s ears and awkwardly hovering over Tony’s shoulder on the stairway to do it. Honestly, it would probably be more comfortable for him to just get on the ceiling at this point.

“Oh, I’m kidding! I wasn’t actually gonna say it!”

Tony pulls Morgan out of Peter’s loose grip, moving all of them forward and almost sending Peter toppling down the stairs. MJ grabs the back of Peter’s shirt even though she suspects his feet are doing the steadying for him.

“You guys are like some kind of messed up comedy troupe,” Michelle comments, watching Peter pout and dust off his clothes as if it will rid him of any embarrassment.

Pepper shakes her head at all of them as they enter the kitchen, probably having heard at least some of that. “More like a circus,” she grumbles.

“We do have an alpaca,” Tony adds, placing Morgan onto her feet.

“I think that’d be more of a petting zoo,” Peter argues.

“Michelle, I’m sorry about them,” Pepper says. “Get whatever you want, we always order plenty for Mister-Mega-Metabolism over here.”

Pepper points to Peter, who has already unceremoniously shoved half of a slice of pepperoni pizza in his mouth and has a trail of grease slipping down his chin.

“You guys are so mean,” he sulks without bothering to swallow, meaning the words are a garbled, spitting mess. “Mister Stark’s the one that keeps nagging me about my blood sugar!”

“You’re attracted to this,” Tony says to Michelle, pointing at Peter. “This? Really?”

“He’s alright,” she answers, dragging both a slice of vegetarian and a slice of cheese onto her own plate without bothering to look at Peter’s fake-hurt expression.

“MJ, you’re supposed to be on my side, this is—I can’t even—“

In his distraction, Morgan decides to be sneaky. Only MJ seems to catch her subtle movements toward Peter, using her short height to her advantage and the element of surprise to steal what’s left of the piece of pizza from Peter’s hand. She giggles to herself triumphantly, biting into it herself.

“Morgan, sweetie, that’s—“ Pepper tries, but seems to lose the end of the admonishment that was probably about germs.

Peter only smiles, crouching as if preparing for a fight.

“Here they go,” Tony hums, expectant in a way Michelle certainly isn’t.

“You better watch out, you little—!” In a fit of laughter, Morgan sprints out of the kitchen, Peter hot on her heels. They run a lap around the living room furniture.

“Peter, leave your sister alone, she needs to eat her—aaaaand they’re already in the yard,” Tony sighs. He and Pepper seem to give up, bringing their own plates and the so far unused plates of Peter and Morgan to the table. MJ follows suit, placing herself an empty chair between the two table heads.

“I swear to god, they’re normal, like, ninety percent of the time.” Tony pauses. “Eighty-five. Solid eighty percent.”

“Did you…?” MJ feels awkward asking about it, but maybe it’s something Peter hasn’t told her yet, something she wasn’t supposed to know that just slipped out. Tony said—he called Morgan Peter’s sister. “Is there something I should know?”

Both Tony and Pepper look at Michelle like she’s not making any sense.

“What you said—that Morgan is Peter’s sister, it’s just—I can keep a secret! I just didn’t know he was, you know. Yours.“

“He wishes,” Pepper snorts into her ice water.

Tony’s responding smile is far too wide.

“I keep asking May for partial custody, but she just won’t budge!” He snaps his fingers in a very exaggerated, aw, shucks way. Pepper and Tony both laugh.

“Ah,” she lets out, embarrassed to have even had the thought that Peter might be Tony’s secret child or something, picking at her pizza toppings to avoid looking at the Starks.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” Pepper pats her arm comfortingly. “Before the Blip there were articles with pretty similar lines of questioning. All shut down because they photographed a minor, of course.”

Pepper seems pretty proud of that, and MJ supposes she should be. People definitely would have made the Spider-Man connection sooner if Peter and Tony were in the paper together all the time.

More seriously, Tony says, “I’ve looked at the kid’s blood…more than I wish I had, honestly, but he gets injured, it happens. Anyway, yeah, no. FRIDAY would have figured that one out pretty quickly. DNA scanners and all.”

She nods, and the awkward silence thankfully only has to sit for a few more seconds before Peter bursts back into the house, Morgan wriggling around and squealing in his arms.

“I caught a wild Morguna!” Peter cheers.

“Is that the name of an actual Pokémon?” Tony asks, switching his gaze between Pepper and Michelle for an answer. “Did I accidentally nickname my kid after a battling monster thing? I only know like three of them, help me out here.”

Peter rolls his eyes, placing Morgan down with a quick tickle to her ribs that sends her flying towards the table.

“Come eat, Little Miss,” Tony commands, patting his hand on the chair to his right. Peter sits automatically to his left. “Michelle won’t want to watch a movie with you if you misbehave.”

“Do you like Disney movies?” Morgan probes, kicking her feet under the table and creating a light vibration.

Michelle shrugs. “Depends on which movie.”

Morgan squints, accessing. She nods.

“Good answer.”

Next to her under the table, Peter gives her a thumbs up, another piece of pizza already in his other hand.

The answer of where he got the food is clear as Tony shoves his other piece over to Morgan.

Pepper rolls her eyes and stands to presumably help re-fill his plate from the boxes on the counter.

Mulan was as good as MJ remembered it being when she was a kid.

Morgan seemed pretty pleased when she started mouthing along the words to I’ll Make A Man Out Of You, but less so when that prompted Peter to turn it into a dance number including the jumping kicks that almost resulted in a broken glass coffee table.

Despite their earlier nap, Michelle and Peter both find it fairly easy to fall asleep that night.

Still, it may be because of the nap that she doesn’t sleep as hard. She feels a disturbance, physically—Peter’s warmth leaves the bed, the steady pressure of his spine against her own is no longer there.

At first Michelle thinks it’s just a quick bathroom trip. Then she finds that she’s not as comfortable as she was those five minutes before without Peter because he keeps the room warm and he’s cool under the sheets (possibly because of the spider-man thing, she’s never asked).

So she waits.

She thinks about the English paper that will be her final for this semester that she only has half an idea for, and what drills AcaDec should be running for their first practice after the break, and…still no Peter.

She thinks about the pictures she spotted of Peter and Tony in the kitchen—the one of them from his internship next to one of Tony in a hospital gown, Peter on the hospital bed, his body covering Tony’s lost arm, both of them smiling with wet eyes and what it all means.

He still isn’t back yet.

She scoots over to Peter’s side of the bed and peeks her head out of the open door. There’s not even a light on in the bathroom.

Well, now she definitely has to investigate.

The cabin probably isn’t old enough for any squeaky floorboards, but she watches her step just the same, aware of every little noise in the half-dark of the night. She makes it to the stairs before she finally sees the dim glow of lights on downstairs accompanying the sound of someone talking.

“…it’s just so—messy.“

“Then explain it to me.”

She goes to her tiptoes, moving just a few steps down. On the couch she identifies the owners of the voices—the backs of Peter and Tony’s heads are silhouetted in the light of the fireplace in front of them.

“Tony…” Peter says, clearly hesitant, curling further into the couch.

“I can handle it, Pete. It’s worse for me when I don’t know what you’re going through, trust me,” Tony replies.

“I don’t even know what I’m going through,” Peter jokes, but his voice is weak, and Tony doesn’t laugh.

Peter sighs. “It was just—one thing to another. Like, I was under that building, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and then it was Titan, and I couldn’t breathe and I could feel myself—I could feel it happening and I was reaching out to you, but then you were—“

She can’t see Peter’s face, but his arm moves over his eyes, and the sleeve comes away tear-stained. He’s crying. Peter’s crying, broken, and her heart strains to do something about it, but this is—all of this is so much and she’s just overhearing it, what is she even doing?

“You were dying and I couldn’t…I heard when your heart—when you—” Peter’s words hitch into sobs, quiet and purposefully muted, like he’s scared to release them.

“Oh, buddy, no, no,” Tony brings Peter closer, his arm bundling Peter against his chest. Earlier she’d thought of what Peter might look like years from now, but now he looks smaller, younger.

The things Peter’s seen…he fought aliens in space, he was dusted and remembers it, his hero, his mentor, this man taking on Peter’s tears and pain with his whole body, his heart—another father—almost died right in front of Peter’s eyes. God, Mysterio almost put a bullet through Peter’s head for revenge—they’re still children, how can Peter handle this, how could anyone?

“Shh, I’m right here. I’m here, I’ve got you,” Tony soothes easily, like Peter is Morgan, just another one of his children seeking comfort.

“It’s okay, Pete. Everyone is okay. Just let it out, you’re okay.” Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s head, rubbing Peter’s back, so gentle, so soft, so unlike anything the world has ever shown her about Tony Stark, something precious and kind.

Something saved only for Peter, for his family.

Michelle sits at the top of the stairs for too long.

Too long thinking of every epic story Peter’s ever told about Spider-Man—the bruises he brushes off, the cuts and scrapes that he can hide away within a day, all of the times that he wins, the failures glided over as footnotes to a success story.

There’s so much she doesn’t know.

She knew he carried guilt, responsibility, but never this. This is a raw, deep wound of loss. It��s a fear scraping at him in the dark that he hides in the light. That he hides from everyone. From her.

Peter is curling into Tony for that comfort instead, burying his fears and worries into the man who brought him into all of this. If there’s anyone that could understand, of course it would be Tony.

She doesn’t know what do to with this knowing of everything she doesn’t. These are things she’s scared to know, things she wants to know anyway because they’re a part of Peter, and she wants more of him despite the sensical parts of her brain that scream for her to run off to California for college and leave dating a literal superhero that regularly risks his own life behind.

As Peter’s tears start to taper off, she stands from her place on the stairs, tip-toeing her way back up to Peter’s bedroom just as quietly as she came, leaving Tony's final whisper of, “I love you, it’s okay,” behind her.

She lies down, bringing the covers that smell of Peter's body wash up to her neck, the familiar scent comforting.

She only falls back asleep as the first dregs of sunshine begin to peek through Peter’s blinds.

Peter doesn’t come back to bed.

Unlike the day before, Thanksgiving morning is a quiet affair. A fog seems to have fallen overnight, leaving the outside of the cabin wet and hazy, matching her mood after the night before.

MJ wakes lightly a few times: the scent of coffee hits her nose, a high-pitched giggle echoes from Morgan in the hall, the sounds of doors opening and closing downstairs break the spell on and off.

If Peter enters the room to get dressed, he doesn’t wake her. She’s not sure if she wants him to or not.

There’s this—knot, buried right in the middle of her chest. Guilt for watching a private moment. Disappointed that she hadn’t thought about it sooner, that she’d let herself accept his constant assurances that he was fine, that there was nothing for her to worry about beyond the norm.

It’s Happy that ends up waking her.

“Knock, knock,” he announces, pulling open the already cracked door. Michelle doesn’t think she’s ever seen him out of a suit before now—usually he’s playing driver for them after school or hovering around Peter and May’s place, something Peter’s only become minimally more comfortable with since May and Happy's dating-ish-thing started. He’s picked a dress shirt and dark jeans instead. Not far from casually formal, but still…weird.

“Morning,” she announces from her blanket bundle, sulky and comfortable.

His eyebrow raises, wrinkling his balding hairline. “Do I wanna know?”

She shrugs.

“Okay, well, Tony and the other kids are making breakfast. Doesn’t seem like your thing, missing out on good food.”

“Are you fat-shaming a growing teenage girl?” She raises an eyebrow, her face dead serious and her tone purposefully instigating.

“Of course not, why would you—“ he catches on quickly, used to her tricks by now, her jokes that aren’t jokes. His lips hint at a smile under his goatee. “Very funny, kid.”

“I thought so.” She smiles.

“Food in ten,” Happy reiterates, turning around to shut the door.

“Happy—wait,” MJ calls, hesitant. He looks back at her expectantly, but she isn’t sure what to say without saying everything, her emotions caught in her throat.

“You—Peter’s worked with you for a while, right?”

She sits up from under the covers, ignoring the borrowed t-shirt of Peter’s hanging off of her frame and the messy wrap containing her curls. This is Peter’s family, in a way, and Happy saw her unhinged and wielding a mace back in Europe. Surely they’re at the point of being able to ignore things like appropriate dress, or whatever.

Her hands end up wringing themselves together. She’s unsure where to look—the whole room is a reminder of Peter, a collage of all the different parts—the hero, the boy, the growing man.

Happy’s facial expression questions the non-sequitur, but he redirects to Peter’s bed anyway, situating himself comfortably, probably realizing this isn’t just about what she’s asking.

“Working with, not so much. Looking after his scrawny ass…” He nudges her with his shoulder, but she doesn’t brighten up much, so he sobers.

“In the beginning, I spent a lot of time ignoring him when he needed me the most. Tony and I both did, and we both regretted it. After the Vulture, things changed. I listened to every asinine voicemail, Tony instituted lab time every other weekend…”

Happy clears his throat, his eyes honest. “Don’t tell him this, but after we lost him, I spent so much time wishing I hadn’t missed a minute of it. I kept wishing I could get him back, listen to him babble about his nerdy crap in the back of the car for just one more hour. Stupid stuff.”

“But then he came back,” she supplies.

He nods. “Then he came back. Tony was out of commission, and I promised myself that I wasn’t ever going to miss another call, even if it was just the kid rattling my ear off about free churros or a dress that he thought looked nice on you at school that day.” At the ending comment, he bumps a hand at her leg, emphasizing.

“Ugh,” she groans, but puts a hand over her mouth to hide a smile. Happy doesn’t appear fooled.

“What’s this about, Michelle?” he asks, meeting her eyes.

She sighs, crossing her arms and leaning back against the bed’s headboard.

“It’s just—after everything that’s happened, after everything you’ve seen him go through…do you think—is Peter okay?”

Something dawns on Happy’s face, followed by a somber kind of smile.

“If you ask me, the people that choose to do this kind of thing—these hero types…none of ‘em are anything close to okay. I mean, you’ve seen the kind of stuff they’re up against first hand. Weird tech, magic, aliens…it doesn’t exactly scream mental stability if you’re going towards that kind of danger.”

It’s not meant to be comforting, and he doesn’t say it as such. It’s just a fact: normal people don’t put on suits and fight bad guys and come out on the other side unscathed. That’s why so few ever do it, powers aside.

“But it does speak to a lot of heart. People didn’t understand that about Tony, when he started: you have to care about people a whole hell of a lot to want to keep saving their ungrateful asses over and over again.”

“I know that Peter cares—and I love that about him!” She blushes at the heated admission, but Happy seems content to let it go with only a kind smile. “It’s just—I didn’t realize how hard it must be on him. He doesn’t tell me how hard it is. I don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to him?” Happy suggests with dry condescension.

She frowns at him, because very clearly she’s not there yet, which is why she’s talking to him.

“I had to try,” he sighs. “Look, I know it’s hard to see someone like him going through all of this. It’s even harder when they don’t admit things are tough. Sometimes it’s just—there’s not much that you can do. We sit on the sidelines, we pitch in where we can, and when they do need us…”

He trails off, looking out Peter’s window. The lake ripples with a light rain.

“When they do need us, we show up. We show up and tell them how stupid they are for acting tough. We’re there when it matters, even when they’re being stubborn and telling us to go.”

Happy shrugs. “Well, that’s always been my tactic, anyway.”

MJ shrugs back, biting her lip. “It’s not the worst advice I’ve ever heard.”

“Tony?” he questions.

“Captain America. Those pre-recorded seminars make you want a big bag of weed more than any college stoner alive.”

Happy actually does laugh at that, patting her knee over Peter’s comforter.

“You two are good together. And I’m not just saying that cause I’m romantic or something—though I did know Pepper and Tony would be perfect together before anyone else, and you can quote me on that.” He points his finger at her, dead serious. Clearly that’s a regular argument at the Stark family get-togethers.

“He’s not going to get lost in this alone. He has too many people on his side for that. But if you need him to be more honest, you’re probably going to have to ask for it. Multiple times. Explicitly. These geniuses have concrete skulls protecting all of that brain matter.” He taps against his own head for effect.

“Yeah, I—thanks, Happy.”

“No problem,” he replies. Then he groans as he lifts himself from the bed, standing. “Now get up, or Morgan’s going to hog all of the syrup. Tony’s not above stealing from her syrup pool, but I personally think it’s an abomination.”

Despite the quiet morning, downstairs is filled with activity once she arrives, her floral dress toned down by one of her favorite grandpa sweaters, grey and a little garish.

Happy arrived with James Rhodes, apparently, as the Colonel is currently swinging Morgan around the living room like it’s a playground. Pepper and Happy are involved in something at the stove, crowded together and bickering about whatever they’re attempting not to burn. Tony is absent at the moment (out feeding their alpaca, maybe,) but Peter’s gaze finds her from his place at the counter where he’s seemingly just stealing bits of fruit out of a bowl instead of contributing.

His smile makes her feel floaty, like the department store dress and thrift store sweater are something more elegant, something he’s revering from across the room. She has value outside of his opinion, yes, but she likes his stuttering compliments, the bloom of pink on his cheeks, the tentative hand he links into her own.

Michelle likes him, might even love him one day, and she wants to get past all of this business where she’s torn up about his other life as a superhero and get back to his eager attempts to get her to full-belly laugh, holding his hand in the hallway, sneaking chaste kisses as rewards for acing flash cards.

“Hey,” Peter says, but he looks just as pensive as she feels. Maybe he knows how she’s feeling, senses it with his weird tingle-thing.

“Hey.”

They end up breaking the following silence at the same time.

“Peter, I—“

“Can we—“

She tilts her head to the porch, smiling. They’re both kind of ridiculous. “Outside?”

Peter situates himself on the porch’s bannister, swinging his legs from his perch. She chooses to lean on the wood next to him.

She’s trying to prepare exactly what she wants to say when Peter says, “I know that you were there last night. I know you heard…well, everything.”

Michelle’s eyes go wide, turning to him apologetically. Of course, his super senses. He probably heard her heartbeat.

“I really didn’t mean to pry, you just didn’t come back to bed and when I overheard you were clearly so upset and—“

“It’s okay, MJ.”

“Is it, though?” she asks curtly. “Because it didn’t seem like that was the first time something like that’s happened.”

He looks away. “It’s not.”

She nudges his side with her own, swaying him on his ledge a little.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault, bringing everything up like I did.”

“M, no, that’s not—“

She holds up a hand, asking for his silence.

“I just feel like I kept…pushing. You don’t really talk about all of this—Tony, the battle with Thanos, everything that made you want to become Spider-Man. And I realized I never really asked, either.”

She knows that she doesn’t have to take this burden on for him, but she wants him to know she’s listening, that she cares.

“I mean—Tony Stark is kind of your dad, dude! And I had no idea.”

Peter laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed. He also doesn’t deny it.

“It just…it made me feel like a crappy girlfriend, ‘cause I never thought about how all of that felt for you. That’s all.”

“You’re not a crappy girlfriend,” he replies, bringing her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. “Just ask Mister Stark—for all that I like talking, telling people about my problems…” He shakes his head in distaste. “I hate it. It feels like I’m just complaining.”

“Well, I personally love complaining, and would love to hear you do it more,” she says.

He lets out a breath of a laugh through his nose, but he sobers again, keeping hold of her hand and squeezing.

“The stuff with Tony…it can be hard to talk about him without mentioning everything that got us here. It’s easier to let people think what they want to.”

MJ nods, understanding. Tony has been a public figure for his entire life. It makes sense that he’s pretty insular about the people that he considers family. Anyone important can be a liability—at least, she knows that Peter also tends to see it that way.

“It’s cute that you care about my relationship with him so much, though. I didn’t realize you were so protective,” Peter teases, hopping off of the ledge and onto the porch next to her.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles, swaying their still-attached hands between them.

“Yeah, yeah,” he hums, smile wide across his face. He’s used to the parts of her that go hot and cold, and takes them in stride.

It feels good to have this out in the open, a previously closed door now tentatively cracked and inviting her in. It's a step closer, she thinks. A step closer to him and his world, this family he's made for himself.

A familiar look overtakes his face, and she feels a rush of warmth in her veins.

When they kiss—really kiss—it’s always tentative, a silent game of question and answer.

Peter inches closer, slow enough that she could turn away if she wanted. (She never does.)

Michelle tilts her head, reaffirming his desire. Are you sure? (He always is, his confidence always so much easier than hers.)

Together they take the final step, their movements more confident now as they’re slowly gaining practice. The slight difference of height between them often means she catches his top lip and his hands have a way of snaking around her waist, pulling them closer.

A wolf-whistle breaks them apart abruptly.

It’s Tony, walking over from what appears to be a barn not far from the lakeside, a teasing caught-the-canary smile in place.

“Well, well, look at you two,” he says, working his way up the steps with a little more pep than the day before.

“Please don’t start,” Peter begs, shrugging off the metal hand that immediately goes to ruffle his hair.

“Hey, you’re lucky it was just me. Rhodey has a real hard-on for breaking up PDA.”

“Please never say hard-on again in my presence.”

“Say it in mine,” Michelle interrupts. “I want it on camera.”

“I mean, I’m sure it already is if you look hard enough.”

Peter groans.

“I’ve never hidden my past from you, Pete. Now, Morgan—I’m hiding as much as possible from her internet searches until she’s at least sixteen.”

“I personally love the old flip-phone one of you drunkenly dancing on a bar-top to Toxic.”

“Oh, yeah! I actually remember that. Nice girl, Miss Spears.”

“I regret introducing you two,” Peter sighs, pouting.

“Love you too, kiddo,” Tony replies, opening the door ahead of them. “Now, c’mon. Happy’s going to deep-fry the turkey and you gotta watch. It’s some real Food Network shit.”

“Mommy! Daddy said your word again!” comes Morgan’s call from the living room area.

Peter shrugs to her, a smile on his face like he’s apologizing for getting her involved in all this.

She takes his hand again, giving it a squeeze before following him back into the Starks’ lake house and shutting the door.

#irondad #spiderson #spideychelle #ironfam #peter-stank #friendly-neighborhood-exchange #marvel #my writing

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portals-to-a-new-world · 4 years

Text

Shattered Glass

Who?: John Kennex x Reader

What?: YN and John fight, forcing both of them to realize some truths neither were willing to admit.

Word Count: 4724

Warnings: Angst, Intrusive Thoughts, Self-Image Struggles, Portrayals of Depression and Anxiety, Language, Smut, Unprotected Sex (wrap it before you tap it, y’all), Semi-Public Sex, Fluff

A/n: Hey y’all! This started out as a therapy fic for me after I’d had a bad day at work and just sort of snowballed lol. I’d just like to reiterate that this has portrayals of negative self image and anxiety/depression so please don’t put yourself at risk if that’s going to trigger you. I’d like to give yet another shoutout to the absolutely brilliant @bakerstreethound, without whom this story couldn’t have happened. She kept me sane during the beginning and has been the bestest friend and partner anyone could ask for. Ace, I really don’t know what I’d do without you 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 Finally, I’m not tagging in this one, simply because I’m currently trying to work out a way to organize my tags so that people only get tagged in what they want to be :). Keep an eye out for a post soon with further details, peaches. Oh just one more thing, I’ve been seeing a lot of blogs having their works reposted on other sites without permission, and I’d like to establish here that I do not give anyone permission to repost my works. I’m on AO3 under the same username, but any other sites are not me.

Rough days were standard in your line of work. You'd think that after 3 years in the industry, the last 5 months of which being spent with your current employer, would have you used to the stress. Then again, you weren't sure anyone could get used to the bitch of a co-worker who was causing 80% of your issues. You were higher up in the company than her, but because she'd been with them longer, she seemed to think she could order you around. Going to your bosses achieved nothing, as she was apparently "invaluable" to the company, and didn't bother listening to them anyway. It wasn't a big deal at first, just one of those "ignore them, and they'll go away" situations, but as time progressed it got increasingly worse. Today you were forced to endure her screaming insults and ranting at you about a mistake your partner had made. Your day only seemed to get worse from there, and by the time you got off, you were about ready to blow a fuse. 4 bouts of road rage and a spilled coffee later, and you finally walked through the door to your apartment, slamming it shut behind you. John's head poked around the corner from the kitchen, noodles hanging from his lips. "Jesus. Is the door still standing?" He asked once he'd swallowed. You just huffed in response. He raised an eyebrow as you walked past without giving your usual greeting in the form of a kiss. "Hello to you, too, then." He mumbled. You waved your hand sarcastically over your shoulder.

"Hey," You said. John's concern was written all over his face as he followed you into the living room. He spoke as you plopped onto the couch, placing your head in your hands.

"I'd ask if you're okay, but clearly you're not so-"

"Sorry, Detective, but you must be losing your touch because I'm fine." You said, looking up to offer a strained smile, which was met with a skeptical eyebrow raise.

"Uh-huh, and Richard's being promoted to captain. Don't bullshit me, (Y/N/N). What's wrong?" He placed a hand on your shoulder as he finished. You shrugged it off and stood to your feet, ignoring the incredulous look on his face at your actions.

"I said I'm fine, John. Just let it go." You turned to walk away, but his hand shot out to grab ahold of your wrist. You tried to tug it free, which only served to draw him to his feet. He pinned your arm against his chest, pulling you in close. "Let me go." You said as you continued to struggle against him. Any other time you'd've found being pinned against such a handsome bastard incredibly sexy, in fact, that's probably why he did it in the first place. The notion was like throwing a match onto gasoline, igniting the rage that had been simmering under the surface into a full-on blaze.

"What the hell's gotten into you??" He demanded.

"I told you to fucking let it go, Kennex. In fact, you might as well go ahead and leave altogether, cause I'm not in the mood to fuck you tonight." He dropped your wrist as if scalded and took two steps back to search your face in angry disbelief before replying.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" You threw your hands in the air in exasperation.

"Oh, come on! I'm not stupid, John. There was never going to be anything serious between us. You're not capable of trusting, let alone loving, anyone after Anna, and even if you were, you'd never choose me." He opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off. "No, you wouldn't. Put me in a line up with every woman you've ever been attracted to, and the differences are fucking painfully obvious." You took a deep breath before continuing. "I was not, and never will be, anything more to you than convenient, no matter how much I love you. Okay? So, you don't have to pretend to fucking care anymore, John."

"How dare you! I can't believe I'm standing here listening to this bullshit; matter of fact," He paused and gestured as if an idea just occurred to him. "I'm not going to!" He stormed over to his coat and yanked it off the counter before throwing it on. He stopped momentarily to look back at you, mouth open to speak before sighing roughly in frustration. "Fuck this." Without another word, he was going out your door, slamming it so hard behind him that the pictures on the wall fell and crashed on the floor. In a single moment, everything in you shattered like glass. You collapsed in a heap as sobs began to rip through your chest. It's for the best. He would have left eventually, anyway. Why would he want to stay with a useless, disgusting, pathetic thing like you? God, you can't even handle the basic stress of everyday problems, while he's out there still doing his job after everything he's been through. I mean, how weak can you be?? No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop the thoughts from invading your mind. Each one cut deeper than the last until you were numb. Eventually you stood to your feet, drained and feeling hopeless. Your body moved on autopilot, carrying you through your nightly routine and into bed. You slept in fits and starts, nightmares plaguing nearly every second. When your body finally gave in to the utter exhaustion, a tiny part of you had hoped that you would wake up to find it'd all been a dream. Most of you didn't want to wake up at all, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, neither part of you got its wish. You did indeed wake up, and you woke up to an empty bed. Your heart broke as you realized just how badly you'd fucked up. You didn't have time to dwell on your failures, though, as your phone was ringing, and upon answering, you discovered you were over an hour late for work. You shot up out of bed and quickly threw some clothes on, rushing through your morning essentials. As you stepped out of your front door, you looked up and saw dark storm clouds rolling in. You flipped through the radio in your car and found out that the storms were supposed to last through the rest of the week. At least the weather matched how you felt inside. Unsurprisingly, your problematic co-worker was standing ready to lay into you the moment you stepped through the doors. It took every ounce of what little strength you had left not to break down right then and there. By some stroke of luck, she was called away by your bosses, and you quickly took off to your desk. Your day was almost typical, until around 2 pm, your phone buzzed with an incoming text. Your heart stopped as you looked at the name on the screen. John. Your hands were shaking as you unlocked the phone to read the message.

Come by my place when you get off. We need to have a serious talk.

All of your fears came crashing down on you at once, punching through your chest like a bullet. You stumbled your way into the bathroom and latched onto the sink edge to anchor yourself. So this really was it. He was breaking up with you. Your hand flew up to press against your chest as the ache there blossomed into raw agony. At least he had the decency to do it in person. He could have just ghosted you. You continued to rub your chest as you typed out a simple 'okay' in response. A quick glance at the time revealed that you still had three hours left in your shift. You took a few deep breaths and splashed some cool water on your face. The last thing you needed was for someone to ask "what's wrong" and you end up breaking down in front of God and everyone. After you managed to calm down enough to return to your desk, time seemed to slow down, until the remaining three hours felt like twelve. You'd also discovered that you'd left your rain jacket at John's the last time you'd spent the night. Still, most of your body was numb by then anyway, so it didn't really matter as you stepped out into what had to be a freezing downpour at the end of your shift. In all honesty you were grateful for the numbness. You almost certainly would have never been able to drive had it not been for the near void that threatened to consume you as you drove through the crowded city. When you pulled up into the driveway, some of the emptiness cleared away, leaving panic in your chest and your whole body shivering as you sprinted to the door. You hardly registered John opening the door and pulling you inside. Your focus was locked on to the way his face moved while he spoke, committed to memorizing every detail while you still had the chance. Your gaze had fallen to his perfectly plump lips when you realized he was saying your name.

"Y/n, can you hear me, sweetheart?" You shook your head to clear some of the fog from your mind. Might as well get it over with.

"Yeah-" You cleared your throat. "Yeah, I can hear you. When do you wanna come by and get your stuff? Or would you rather me just drop it off here for you?" Confusion flooded his features as you finished.

"What are you talking about? Why would I need my stuff back?" Damn, was he so done with you that he didn't even want his stuff back? You dropped your eyes, knowing that you wouldn't be able to hold his gaze without breaking down completely.

"You're breaking up with me, right?" You cursed silently as tears began to stream down your face. Gentle fingers pressed up beneath your chin to tilt your face back up.

"You haven't listened to a word I've said, have you?" You didn't respond, too caught up in the softness of his eyes, and he didn't bother waiting for one anyway. "I said I shouldn't have walked out on you last night. I had some excuse about being tired, but the truth is I was afraid because you were right. I didn't think I would ever be able to love anyone again after Anna." Your heart clenched and the tears began to fall even harder as breathing became difficult. Had you been watching his face, you would have seen the heartache ooze across his features as he watched you break down in front of him. As it were, your gaze had fallen back to the floor, and you jumped when his hand moved up to cradle your face softly. "I was so pissed at myself, and at you for being right, that it wasn't until this morning when I woke up without you in my arms, and it hurt that I realized just how wrong we both had been. You're wrong about me never choosing you. You're smart and kind, and so beautiful you take my breath away when you walk into a room." You hiccupped and fell apart as you processed what he was saying to you. He rushed to pull you into his arms as your knees threatened to give out, and just held you until you could breathe again. He pulled back far enough to look you in the eyes before he continued speaking. "And I was wrong. Because I do love you, and I'm sorry it took me so long to figure that out." You gasped deeply and threw your arms around his neck.

"I'm so sorry too. I never should have taken out my frustrations about work on you."

"It's alright. Do you wanna talk about it?" Part of you still felt stupid about the reason for your outburst, but you felt so safe in his embrace that you found yourself nodding in affirmation. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and let you go. The sudden lack of his warmth sent shivers up your spine.

"Jesus. Why's it so cold in here?" You asked, rubbing your arms. He reached out and took your hand with a grin.

"Part of your surprise." He said with a wink. "Come on. I'll show you." You followed him around the corner and into the main room. You came to a stop as your eyes fell on the mounds of blankets and pillows arranged on the floor. He turned to look back when you stopped, and he seemed disappointed when you just looked at him in confusion. "You mentioned a while back that you loved the sound of the rain on the roof here. I'd figured-" He cringed slightly as he stumbled over his words. "Well, I mean I'd hoped-" He began to rub the back of his neck nervously before he continued. "I'd hoped that we'd be able to work things out, so I went ahead and got everything set up. Since they're calling for the storms to last for so long and all." Deciding to put him out of his misery, you stepped forward and pulled him down into a kiss. All the tension left his body as your lips connected, and you couldn't help but grin as you broke apart.

"I promise to not tell Dorian that you're secretly a big ol teddy bear who remembers tiny details about his girlfriend." You joked. John rolled his eyes, but still had a small smile on his face as he pulled you back in for another kiss. Despite his closeness, another chill ran down your spine, reminding you of your original query. "Doesn't explain why it's so flippin cold in here, though." He looked at you and gestured as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"It's a pillow fort. And you've got the internal body temperature of a small space heater. I'd really prefer to not sweat my ass off." He said. You bit your lip to hide your grin as you nodded gravely before replying.

"That would be a tragedy." He also was fighting a smirk as he slightly tilted his head in agreement.

"Exactly. My ass is a national treasure," He said. You giggled and let your smile finally breakthrough as he gestured in a 'come hither' motion. You began to worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you stepped forward. He reached over and pulled the soaking wet towel from your shoulders, surprise in his eyes as if something had just occurred to him. You stepped forward in concern as his eyes seemed to zone out and darken.

"John? What's wrong?" He seemed to snap out of his trance, and he cleared his throat before gesturing to your body.

"Your shirt. It's soaked. You're gonna catch a cold." You followed his gaze to your chest to discover that his eyes had not darkened in anger or frustration, but in lust. He was right, your shirt was absolutely dripping wet. It was also white. Ah.

"Would you prefer me to take it off?" You joked. A smirk emerged on his lips, sending a shudder through you that had nothing to do with the cold. He nodded and closed the distance between you.

"Purely in the interest of your health, of course," He said lowly. You tilted your head in mock defeat and began undoing the buttons of your shirt slowly.

"Well, I'm sure you know best, Detective." You barely made it half-way down the line before his lips were crashing into yours and his hands taking over to speed through the remaining buttons. He paused before he could push the garment off of your shoulders.

"Is this- I mean I don't want to assume- Or make you think I'm only after-" You cut him off with another kiss and shrugged out of the sleeves. He still seemed hesitant, right up until you nipped at his bottom lip. He huffed out a breathless growl before returning the favor, his hands landing on your bare waist to pull you into him. He swiped his tongue across your lip in a silent request for entrance, which you happily granted. Your hands moved to grip at his shoulders while his own began an exploration of your body, sliding up your spine and across your stomach before dropping from your skin entirely. You whined at the loss of contact, but he quickly made up for it by reaching down and pulling his shirt over his head. He leaned back down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. "Just making things even," He murmured against you. His hands found your hips as he led you to the center of the room without breaking the kiss, but it was his turn to grunt in surprise when you gently pushed him down on the pillows. "What-" He stopped when your hands moved to play with the clasp of your bra.

"We're not even yet, Detective." You said coyly. You barely got the garment off before he was tugging you down on top of him and into another breathtaking kiss. A moan escaped your lips as he nibbled your ear, trailing kisses down your neck. You brought a finger up to his mouth, stopping his assault. "We're not done yet, detective." You were smirking and trailing your hands across every bit of his skin you could reach, but you were partly just trying to hide the way you were trembling at having him so close. Another part was just reassuring itself that he was really there, not believing that he was finally truly yours, that you had the broken-hearted detective beneath you. It all felt like a dream until he ground up against you and whispered in your ear.

"Please, (Y/n)," He didn't even finish his sentence before you were climbing off of him to quickly remove your pants and underwear. He followed your lead and, to your surprise, pulled you back down on top of him once he'd finished. You uttered a whimper as he brushed up against your soaked folds, but it turned into a full-fledged whine as he slowly guided you down onto his length. He cursed and his eyes fluttered closed once he was fully sheathed inside you. You both took a moment to breathe and adjust to the sensation, and he finally looked at you when his hands began to guide your hips. "I love you." You leaned down to claim his lips again, tears threatening to fall at the words you'd never thought you'd hear him say.

"I love you too." You said, pulling back to meet his gaze once again. Such a small declaration, yet it made every movement, every touch, feel different. It was slow and passionate, so contrary to the fast and rough pace that was the norm with John. You couldn't bring yourself to look away from his deep hazel eyes, full of love and adoration, as you moved in perfect sync together. He rose with every fall, hitting so deep inside you that you knew you'd be feeling him for weeks. Your hips began to stutter as the sensations threatened to overwhelm you, and without missing a beat John flipped the two of you. A yelp escaped your kiss swollen lips as his nimble fingers slipped between the two of you to rub deliciously at your clit, and you could feel yourself rapidly approaching your orgasm. "John- please- don't stop!" He seemed more than happy to oblige, maneuvering to thrust impossibly deeper as his lips found your ear once again.

"You gonna cum for me, beautiful? I-" Whatever sweet nothing he had planned to say was choked off into a moan as your orgasm hit you. Your walls clamping down around him dragging him over the edge with you as he worked you through until you were whining with oversensitivity. He finally slid out of you and quickly retrieved a towel to clean you up. When he'd finished, he laid back down beside you and wrapped an arm around you, resting your head on his chest. You hummed in contentment as he began to stroke your hair, nearly drifting off before an idea occurred to you.

"John?" You mumbled against his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Do you still have any of that hot chocolate mix I gave you?" A small laugh rumbled in his chest as he responded.

"Yeah. You want some?" You lifted your head up to smile sweetly and nod your head.

"Yes, please!" John shook his head with a smile and placed a quick kiss to your temple before extracting himself from your embrace. You booed when he slid his boxers back on, earning another grin, this time accompanied by a wink before he headed off into the kitchen. Amongst the quiet, you finally registered the sounds of the rain still hammering against the building, the constant drumming a soothing backdrop to the cozy situation you found yourself in. You stood and slid back into your panties before moving to stand in front of the window. You also grabbed one of the blankets to protect against the chill that pervaded the air around the glass. Looking out, you could barely make out the disturbances the rain made to the surface of the water through the darkness, and yet you still found yourself mesmerized by the beauty of the view. You were drawn out of your reverie when John's voice sounded out behind you. "So, tell me about work. Is that woman causing problems again? What's her name, Kar-" He said as he entered the room. When his voice cut off you looked over your shoulder to find him staring at you with wonder in his eyes. You quickly looked out the window to see what he was staring at but couldn't spot anything particularly special.

"What are you looking at?" You asked, turning back right as he walked over to you. He didn't respond; instead, his hands found their way inside your blanket to grab your hips and push you back against the window. Mild panic set in before he finally spoke up. "John?"

"You're so beautiful." He said, dropping his head to kiss along your neck. You huffed in disbelief and reached up to push against his shoulders.

"You're crazy," Your pressing did little to dissuade him from his task, and you couldn't help but smile as he continued to mutter praises into your skin. "John," You chuckled as he continued to nuzzle into your neck. "Stop it, you're fogging up the glass," Your protests were growing half-hearted though, as his hands began to wander, and his lips trailed softly over your skin.

"And?" He questioned, pulling you back enough that your blanket fell to the floor before moving back forward so you were pressed against the icy cold glass. You yelped at the shock the temperature difference gave your system, trying to shove him back and pull him closer for warmth at the same time, both to no avail.

"I was enjoying the view," You said, breathlessly in a last-ditch attempt to persuade him. He pulled back to look you in the eyes before he responded.

"I've got a much better one right in front of me." His lips found yours and you melted against him. The kiss bordered on desperate, almost as if he was afraid you'd disappear. His hands left a trail of goosebumps behind as the heat of his skin emphasized the chill in the air, sliding up your arms and down your back before moving to play with the skin just beneath your waistband. A whine left you as he dipped his fingers inside to tease at your lips, sliding around and deftly avoiding everywhere you wanted him. Just as you were about to pull back and tell him to stop teasing, he thrust two fingers deep inside you, drawing a surprised gasp from you. "So wet for me," He mumbled against your lips as he began to thrust his fingers inside you. Each pass brushed up against your g spot until you were practically seeing stars and begging him for more. Suddenly, his fingers were gone, and you opened your eyes to find him licking your juices off of them. You let out a desperate whine.

"John, please, please fuck me." You said, reaching out to palm him through his boxers. His hand grabbed your wrist before you could touch him, though, and he spun you around.

"As the lady wishes." He leaned in and said against your ear. He reached down and pulled himself free from his boxers. John didn't bother to remove your own underwear, instead just sliding them to the side before slowly working his length inside you. You groaned in relief as he began to thrust slowly, pulling out and pushing back in to make sure you were ready. His cock dragged perfectly against every sensitive spot you had, sending pleasure shooting through your body and making your toes curl. Seeming satisfied with your preparedness he began to pick up his pace, hitting deeper inside you with every push. You yelped as his fingers found your nipples, tweaking and pulling on the sensitive buds as you moaned out his name. A hand left your skin and reached up to swipe across the glass, revealing your reflection. "Look. Do you see how fucking gorgeous you are? So beautiful, and mine." He nipped at the skin beneath your ear as his hand moved down your front to rub harsh circles on your clit. You threw your head back against his shoulder, eyes falling shut at the added sensation, but a sharp bite made them shoot open again. "Eyes open, baby girl. I want you to watch as I make you fall apart around me." Your eyes found his in the reflection, and you moaned at the way his pupils were blown wide with lust.

"Please, John, I need more-" You gasped deeply as his thrusts began to pick up speed, knocking you up onto your toes and forcing you to throw your hands up against the glass for support. Your reflection revealed how utterly wrecked you were, and the sight sent you flying over the edge with a scream of John's name. He buried his face in your neck as he continued to thrust, chasing his own release and prolonging yours as you gasped and sputtered, unable to form words thanks to the electric waves of pleasure flowing through you. Just when you thought you couldn't handle anymore, John's thrusts faltered, and he came with a deep groan. He rested his forehead on your shoulder as he waited for his breathing to return to normal, mumbling 'I love you's and pressing kisses into your heated skin. Out of nowhere tears began to flow down your cheeks, a quiet sob escaping you. John immediately noticed, and carefully pulled out of you before turning you around to run his hands over you in concern.

"(Y/n), what's wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I? I'm so sorry, sweetheart-" The panic in his voice made the tears come harder, and you struggled to voice what was happening.

"No, you didn't hurt me-" You hiccupped. "I just- don't deserve you." Confusion crossed his face as he processed what you were telling him.

"What? You-" He seemed to come to a decision, and he went and grabbed his phone, quickly pulling up the dial pad. "Here. Call your work and tell them you're taking the rest of the week off. If they ask why then tell them police business."

"What? John, I can't just-"

"You've got tons of time off saved up, right?" He cut you off, still holding the phone out.

"Well yes, but-"

"Then, by law, they can't stop you from taking it." You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control your breathing and stop the tears.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, finally looking up at him.

"Because I want to spend the next 5 days showing you just how amazing you are." He said, so confident, so resolute, that you found yourself reaching out to grab the phone.

#john kennex x reader #kennex x reader #Angst #Intrusive Thoughts #Self-Image Struggles #Portrayals of Depression and Anxiety #Language #Unprotected Sex #Semi-Public Sex #Fluff

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ziamhaze · 4 years

Note

Hi, I hope you're well! I just want to start off by thanking you for all the wonderful fics you have blessed me with!

I just finished Red vs. Black and was hoping you wouldn't mind answering some questions I have. As someone who risks his own life to save others, how does Liam justify being with someone he knows has killed innocent people? It'd be one thing if Zayn had only killed those directly involved with what happened to his family, but he's killed innocent civilians over minor inconveniences (such as the teenagers in the convertible). Does Zayn still think he is justified in doing so? Does he ever feel guilty about it? If not, how would Liam and Zayn be compatible if their moral compasses are so different?

Also, did Zayn's father ever make his way to the UK? Or was that just a lie he told Zayn to comfort him? Does Zayn ever find his family, especially his younger sister?

I know it's a lot, but I'd really love to hear your answers if you want to give them! Again thank you for all of your wonderful works!

So sorry it’s taken me this long to reply, but I didn’t forget!

To start I’d like to thank you for clicking, and finishing, Red vs. Black. It isn’t the shortest of fics, nor is it the most delicate - to put it lightly. For the latter alone, thank you.

These are such poignant, important questions. Ones that are nearly word for word what I asked myself while planning the ending.

SPOILERS FOR ALL OF RED VS. BLACK

1) How does Liam stay with Zayn after learning of all his senseless killings?

Honestly, I questioned this the most when feeling out the concept. As a fic writer it’s expected of me to write not only a romance, but also a happy ending. Of course fics exist that do neither, but they’re very rare and not exactly well-loved. And truthfully, a massive point that I wanted to get across - and which in effect answers this question - is that despite people’s pasts, they cannot overcome them without being given the opportunity. 100%. No ands, ifs, or buts. For a prisoner to assimilate back into society and not go back to their old ways, they need to be trusted with a job. With a salary (no matter how small), they need to trust themselves to be able to not buy anything that may contribute to poor habits: drugs, alcohol, weapons, gambling, a means of transport that will give them the ability to visit bad influences (more of a psychological thing, but still). A lot of prisoners are never given this opportunity (especially in the United States), and therefore fall back into their old ways, which are more often than not coping mechanisms to deal with the fact that they can’t fit into society as easily as privileged people to begin with; it’s a terrible cycle. However, there are plenty of success stories of those that truly wish to change and are lucky enough to stumble upon an employer or mentor or sponsor of some sort that hands them an inkling of hope/trust that they use to fight their way back up. The fic is fantasy, and while Zayn’s story is rooted in real world PTSD, I think the prisoner analogy is easy for us to envision and therefore, understand why Liam acts the way he does. I also made it a point in the last scene when they’re talking things out to have Liam voice his contingency: if Zayn so much as spits at anyone, he’s done for. That’s to say, he’s not wiping his slate clean just yet.

2) Does Zayn still feel his useless killings were justified?

I’m going to answer assuming that you’re referring to the time after the fic ends.

Looking back at his actions is something that would be inevitable when he starts therapy, and this is a perfect example of one of the questions his therapist would ask. You may not like my answer, but as an author I find it imperative that I speak of my characters realistically and to keep them true, not how I want them to act. That said, yes, Zayn would still find justification in why he’s done what he’s done.

There are a few instances in the story where this is actually explained. Take the scene in the bar with fancy mixologists. Zayn begins to get aggravated over the people in the room simply because they’re ignorant to the feeling of significant pain. There’s also the scene where he’s back home in Cheshire and Harry straight out tells him, he may be furious at the unfairness of the world, but he needs to learn how to come to terms with it. It’s not going to change. This right here is what a therapist would work with him to do, and also why I had Harry be the one to bring this up in the story - he is one.

I know it sounds incredibly foreign to the average person, but trust me when I say that people struggling with anger problems founded in (un)fairness, exist. I’ve spoken with professionals about it. Add on crippling childhood PTSD and a villain like Zayn can definitely be born. It’s why treatment is needed, and why the answer is ‘yes’ in the beginning of Zayn’s journey to peace. When his answer switches over to ‘no’, that’s when it’ll be outwardly apparent that he’s beating his ailment. Unfortunately, for many, the inner battle with mental health is lifelong; the answer ‘no’ will never turn solid.

3) Does Zayn feel guilty about the above?

Again, there are a couple times when I write Zayn to literally mention how he feels zero guilt. However, if you really really pay attention you’ll notice that these instances aren’t villain related.

For example, meeting Liam’s parents:

After handing his father and Zayn each their tea, Liam looks between them suspiciously. "Leaving the two of you in a room together was a bad idea."

"Don't know what you're on about," Geoff replies innocently. "We were just talking about cars, weren't we Zayn?" Even with all eyes on him, the pressure of lying doesn't get to Zayn. It never does.

"Yeah," he agrees, bringing his drink up to his lips carefully, "cars."

Or, after Zayn walks out from the comedy club:

"It takes a lot of courage to get up there and do something like that, don't you think?"

"Not really."

Liam looks to the side, hoping that he can interpret more from Zayn's answers by seeing the expressions that go with their frankness. "So if I signed you up, you would do it?"

"Why would I want to make a room full of strangers laugh?" Zayn retorts, his right eye scrunching up in distaste, like it's a mannerism of his provoked by moronic questions. "I don't have a superiority complex." Liam thinks he might, but. "I know I'm better than those people, no mediocracy to cover up here."

So we’ve got those, but then we’ve also got this massive character point:

Right as the last of the snake's body emerges, Zayn snaps his fingers, triggering heavy hip-hop music to flow through his headphones and drown out the man's blood curdling cry.

If he could permanently damage people who deserved it, not always because they did something to Zayn, but because he liked to play god and throw them a massive curveball like life had done to him, then why shouldn't he? So long as he pulls his soundproof headphones off the little robot on the inside of his right arm to avoid listening to the pain his choice brutality caused, there's no valid reason he shouldn't take advantage of the gift he was given.

From where he's sitting, he probably won't be able to hear anything, but he fastens the equipment over his ears just in case.

All at once, the atmospheric sounds of central London, mixed with the terrified screams of those in the burning building beneath them, hit Zayn at full force. The sensory overload alone would normally be enough to piss him off, but tack on his protection from audible trauma being taken and being spoken to while in villain mode, and he's seeing red as deep as the pits of hell he knows he's destined for.

I wrote Zayn’s headphone usage as a way to alert that the reader that he does, in fact, feel villain-related guilt. He can’t act on his anger without them on. He’ll have his victims screams stuck in his head, and he’d never be able to handle that a.k.a. there’s zero satisfaction from their literal pain. Think about that and it’ll answer your follow-up question.

4) What happened to Zayn’s family?

Zayn’s father meant what he said - he’d do whatever he needed to reunite his family. That wasn’t a falsity at all. The problem is money. And politics, but let’s start with the issue of money. It took Yaser nine years to save up the amount he paid to have Zayn and Waliyha smuggled across the border. The whole concept of smuggling is that it’s a cheaper option than the legal one. So if we look at this, you can see how long it would take him to save for three adult visa fees, three adult plane tickets, and enough to stay afloat for a month or so when they get to England. Now add in the politics of the early 2000s and the Afghanistan/Pakistan region. We know that Yaser fixed air conditioners for a living. No person with that average of a background is going to have an easy time immigrating anywhere. Even so, would it really take him over 18 years? While it’s plausible, perhaps a man with such determination would find another way. Or...was that unnecessary because he was fed lies?

Think about it. After several weeks and no word from his children, don’t you think he’d cause a riot? He’s the type to drive over to Badar’s house and demand his relatives get in contact with him to find out what’s going on. But, given the flashback Zayn has, it’s obvious that Badar never planned on accompanying any of the children to the UK, and if that’s the case, he clearly couldn’t return to Quetta. I imagine a fully rehearsed story was told to all of the children’s parents about how they were killed somewhere along the way.

As for Waliyha, her whereabouts were told to my gang over on Patreon a while ago. In short, yes, she’s still alive and I plan on pitching the book’s sequel to publishers as a graphic novel series revolved around her location. Louis’ dark web bot finally found a hint as to where that might be, so Zayn and Liam go on a journey across Europe to find her. Each issue would (probably) take place in a new city and involve both fighting a single bad guy.

Just a quick reminder to anyone who reads this, Red vs. Black and all involved characters are my intellectual property and cannot be replicated, manipulated, or stolen.

Again, thank you for your question and time! I know my fics aren’t short and take a huge time commitment to finish. If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to send them my way! I’m super busy writing the next story and doing critical work, but I promise I’ll get around to it.

#thank you for the questions and for CARING #I think the collective of fanfic readers get a bad rep for not being mature readers and caring about things other than fuzzy feelings #so thank you #my writing #red vs. black #anonymous

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pixiealtaira · 6 years

Text

Into The Woods

Here it is... day 15 of Kurtoberfest...2016

It is not Blaine friendly, it is a break-up fic. It features the Warblers and Elliot.

Rated M...but probably doesn’t need that high a rating.

Kurt centric

Summary: Kurt is Lost In The Woods.

In to The Woods (not posted)

Kurt Hummel was lost in the woods. At least that is what his Facebook page was shouting. He’d already called his dad and informed him he wasn’t ‘lost’ lost in the woods, but he was…in a manner of speaking…lost in the woods.

Kurt Hummel was lost in the woods with a tent and air mattress, three sleeping bags, several blankets and two pillows, plenty of clothing, a cook stove so he didn’t have to build a fire, a cooler full of food, a cooler which was filled with bottled water, a generator that he peddled on which he could make enough power with to charge his laptop, cell phone and the lantern he used as his main light source at night. He had a very comfy camp chair and a portable table. He had his digital camera and several novels he’d been waiting to read until he’d had enough of a school break to do so. He had notebooks and pencils and even a sketchpad and watercolors, watercolor paper, tape and a great selection of paintbrushes. He had his laptop and several days’ worth of downloaded movies, his old IPod classic which held music and only music and enough music to listen to all week almost without repeating a single song.

He had a working cellphone, cell phone service and he even had internet since he’d set his phone up as a Wi-Fi hotspot.

He was perfectly content to remain lost in the woods for the rest of the godawful ‘camping’ vacation…which was three more days.

It started with a magazine article and a desire to try to ‘fix’ his relationship with Blaine.

He and Blaine could not live together. It seriously was as simple as that. The evening Blaine had moved back in, within hours of sending Rachel off, Blaine started fussing about the loft. He wanted to redo the book shelves, he wanted the bathroom reorganized. Heck, in the bathroom he wanted to come up with the money needed to have the bathroom renovated so the toilet and sink were in ‘better’ spots for Blaine’s use, regardless of Kurt’s insistence he would have to ask the landlord about that in the first place and they were never going to come up with the money considering a certain someone had no steady job. Blaine needed things done his way in the kitchen, even though he used it less than Kurt. It only got worse when Kurt spoke about school. Kurt understood that’s June’s showcase took a lot of time and that just because it happened didn’t mean it was completely over and Blaine could just start ignoring her. Kurt pointed out that Blaine still had classes to attend and that he hadn’t thought Blaine skipping them when preparing for the showcase was a good idea to start off with and Blaine certainly should not keep skipping them when he wasn’t working towards an actual event.

Kurt was reminded that he wasn’t the boss of Blaine and that Blaine could do what he wanted. Fine and dandy, however, the tantrum tossed when Kurt refused to skip class and meet up for an afternoon of gaming with Sam while Sam was in town finishing up paperwork at the model agency was uncalled for and ridiculous. The semi silent treatment…Blaine refused to speak to Kurt when Kurt spoke but Blaine was happy to tell Kurt about how mean Kurt was acting and how much he had hurt Sam’s feelings (Kurt hadn’t, he’d texted an apology to Sam with the explanation that Kurt could not miss his dance class and that he’d buy Sam dinner when he was in Lima next and Sam said he was fine with it) so long as Kurt just sat and took it and didn’t dare speak back…was annoying and irritating.

Then there was the wedding crap. Kurt told Blaine the hour after they got engaged that he was NOT getting married until he had finished university...and maybe even landed a full time serious job in his fields of choice. It was NOT happening. Kurt heard nothing different from Blaine about it either. Until it passed a year of being engaged and all of a sudden Blaine kept coming and telling him about potential sites and potential caters and asking for him to make a firm decision on colors and a guest list. Kurt had never even mentioned colors or a guest list, ever…not to even make a non-firm comment. Kurt’s reminder that he still had two more years at least and maybe more before even THINKING about a wedding seemed to not be heard…at all…not any of the 500 or more times he said it. (Neither did Kurt’s reminder that KURT had his wedding planned down to the number of filler flowers in the table displays, thank you very much…so Blaine needed to back off and chill out because so far nothing Blaine had brought forward would ever work even in whatever dream reality Blaine was working under. When Kurt decided that it was time for a wedding, Kurt would then present his fiancé with five choices and after that make five calls and they would be ready to go. That had been yelled the fourteenth time Blaine asked Kurt if he thought Forest Green and Peach would be good for wedding colors. )

All that added with the fights about shoes and clothing and picking up after one’s self and TV choices and movies and gaming and food choices and washing dishes and chores and jobs and rugs and towels and bathroom timing and personal hygiene and good lord everything…Kurt and Blaine were not at a good spot coming up towards the end of the semester.

NYADA’s last day for underclassman was the 16th of May. NYADA’s seniors walked the 10th, with all that week before dedicated to the seniors presenting their final projects and stuff and the seniors taking all their finals for non-presentation classes. It was a dead week for the rest of the campus…it was supposed to be used to study for finals and any presentations they might have during their finals week…unless you were involved in a seniors project. Kurt was not during the end of his second year…or rather his job had already been done and he wasn’t needed on campus. Furthermore, he had already presented for three classes, finished and turned in his huge paper for one class, was complete and ready to present in two classes and didn’t need much more studying for his finals in the rest. To top it all off, he’d taken off the whole of dead week from all jobs, because the year before during dead week Kurt had been buried under so much work it had not been funny. He had just neglected (or blocked) to remember why he’d been so far behind and working so hard to catch up.

When Kurt came home on the last day of April, Blaine was already home. He was sprawled out on the couch and had his face buried in some sort of magazine. Kurt hung up his bag and coat, pulled off his boots, and went to sit by him and turn on some TV until he had to move again…or make dinner, even though it was Blaine’s night to feed them.

“Hey Kurt,” Blaine said as he noticed the TV go on. “You should read this article. I bet we could get some ideas on how you could fix our relationship.”

“We could certainly use some help, but I’m sure a therapist would be a better option than a magazine article.” Kurt replied.

“I told you, I’m not going to therapy. It is a waste of time. My mother says it has not helped one single bit for either her or my dad, so I doubt it would help us.”

“Well, you do have to sort of show up for it to help…” Kurt said under his breath. Louder Kurt said, “So what does the article say?”

“It talks about activities couples can do together to reconnect and get back into tune with each other. We should go camping! It says camping allows couples to rely on each other and talk to each other without distractions. We could go before finals. We should totally do the full week!”

“Don’t you need to study and finish up projects?” Kurt asked.

“Ok…we’ll come home late Friday. I’ll have the whole weekend. We can leave this Friday, right after your morning class.”

“I have a presentation to give at my 1pm class.”

“Ok…right after that.” Blaine said bouncing on the couch.

“Is it even all the way thawed out anywhere?” Kurt asked.

“Thawed? I guess. It’ll be great! I know the perfect place to head off to! You get everything together and I’ll get the place set up. Oh…we’ll need to rent a car.”

Blaine’s confusion at the word thawed should have been the first clue that he and Kurt didn’t have the same idea of camping. That and the word car.

“Leave that to me as well, Dad gave me the number to some of his friends.” Kurt said.

Had Kurt thought about things for much longer, instead of simply going into planning mode, he probably should have figured out that Blaine’s idea of camping and Kurt’s idea of camping were very much two different things. Except, Kurt rather liked the idea of camping, of peace and nature and relaxing, so he didn’t think about it long and just jumped into planning mode.

Kurt called one of his dad’s friends the next day, who rented him a SUV since he wasn’t sure where they were going camping and he might need a 4wheel drive. Kurt also called NYADA’s student recreation center and found out that they did rent out tents and camping gear, also if he chose to buy they gave him the name of three sporting goods shops who gave tremendous students discounts. Kurt rented the tent and camp stove with a full propane tank, but when they showed him the pedal powered generator and external batteries to be charged and used with laptops and other larger items, Kurt went to the sporting goods shop and bought that (he’d already bought sleeping bags after their snowed in day). He bought the type of camp food that was like military MREs, but which he hoped tasted a bit better…although some of the MREs his dad forced down him when he was younger weren’t too bad. He bought other food too…hot dogs(which were only edible outside cooked over an open fire) and potatoes for a fry-up, marshmallows and eggs, some good fish that was frozen, onions and peppers and other things to make tinfoil dinners. He even gave into nostalgia and bought spaghetti circles and meatballs and canned raviolis and hot chocolate packets and instant oatmeal. He broke down and bought sodas, not just his Diet Coke, but fun root beers and other fruity sodas in bottles and regular cans of Cokes and Pepsis and Sprites. He found a good deep pot for Dutch-oven cooking and bought the makings for peach cobbler and a good outdoor fry pan that could sit over open flames or on a camp stove, he added a smaller pot and camping utensils and camping dishes for himself and Blaine that he could wash but he wouldn’t have to risk his matching place settings at home. He bought two coolers and four of the reusable ice packs to keep frozen food frozen for a decent amount of time. He bought enough bottled water to cook with and drink and even wash their hands and face with for a whole week. And, since Kurt did not trust the weather, he also bought long-johns, silk and thermal and two pairs of fleece lined jeans. He bought two cable knit sweaters...one wool and one cotton, two fleece pull overs, a good multi-layer hooded waterproof coat which wasn’t too bulky to be comfortable, good gloves which included fingertips with which he could use his phone, nice lined boots and lots of good thick socks…oh, and a few hats. He bought a hiking pack which he could put all his clothing and some food in, a compass and a good fire starting kit, a first aid kit that was geared towards outdoor recreation use but would be wonderful to add to the loft, and a wonderful water bottle/canteen which he couldn’t wait to take jogging with him when the whole camping thing was done. He had never been so glad a store stayed open till 9pm in all his life. When he got back to the loft, Blaine wasn’t there…he’d left a note saying he was out with some friends and that he’d be ready for Kurt to pick him up at three and could Kurt have the car gassed up and ready to go at the time as well.

Kurt spent the night washing clothes and getting everything ready for the next day. He charged all his devices; he loaded movies and games on the laptop. He pulled out board games and card games and books to read. He pulled out his travel art box, and filled it with pencils, watercolor paints, brushes, and his watercolor paper pad and his sketch pad. He found the extra SD cards for his camera and the extra battery pack and made sure it was charged. He packed extra notebooks. He packed a ‘goody bag’, just in case Blaine’s bonding activity ideas were more on the physical side. He pulled out the three sleeping bags he’d bought after they were snowed in, the extra blankets and the pillows that could travel and their air mattress (bought when Sam was living there at the loft). He packed everything into the SUV except the stuff he wanted to move to the SUV last minute.

He finished packing as soon as he got done with his dance class, where everyone presented their pieces so that Miss July could go somewhere right after she sat through graduation. Kurt was exhausted but he thought he nailed it, which was good. Blaine wasn’t home yet and so Kurt finished packing and had everything in the car ready. Blaine was dropped off by someone at 2:45 and ran up to the loft just in time to meet Kurt who was bringing down his art box and the last sack of groceries (seasonings and stuff from their own kitchen).

“Kurt as soon as you put that in come help me bring my stuff down and then we can be off!” Blaine yelled.

When Kurt got back up to the loft, Blaine handed Kurt a large duffel bag. Kurt locked up as Blaine carried down a large paper sack full of some sort of bottles and his travel cosmetics case. Blaine took those two items with him into the front of the SUV and Kurt packed his bag into the back.

“God, this car is huge! I don’t see why you thought we needed something so big.” Blaine complained as Kurt got into the driver’s seat. Once again, Kurt should have considered that Blaine’s surprise should have been a clue to his idea of camping.

“I didn’t know where we were going so Dad’s friend thought we might need 4wheel drive.” Kurt said.

Blaine nodded. “We might, I didn’t ask. It’ll take about five hours to get there once we get out of the city, so we’d better head now. Take I-80 until you get to almost Watkin’s Glen. There might be tolls. Wake me at Binghamton if I’m not awake by then…or if you stop for food.”

Then Blaine popped his head phones in and leaned his head against the window. He was snoring before they were even out of the neighborhood. Kurt popped his music in and settled in for the drive, singing along as he drove north. Kurt stopped for food without waking Blaine.

He woke Blaine up when he was supposed to, and they stopped for dinner at a fast food drive-thru. Blaine then spent the next half hour chattering about presentations and how annoying it was they were all needing to be done the week of finals.

“Why didn’t you take the option of presenting early?” Kurt asked.

“Why would I do that?” Blaine asked back.

“Because it allows you to space yourself better?”

“But it makes it so you don’t get as much time as everyone else to complete stuff.” Blaine said.

“Well, you do…I mean I know in three of those six classes you share with me the paper or presentation project is in the syllabus and so you’ve had since the start of the semester to work on it if you wanted to. If I chose to work on it early and have it down and ready to present early I don’t see how I’ve lost time. I just used it to my advantage.”

“But you could have done more or added more or changed things over the next week or so!” Blaine exclaimed.

“Why would I need to if I already have it done?” Kurt asked back.

Blaine just grumbled and glared at him.

“When you get to the turn off to go to the state park, take it and drive along the road you’d take to get to the back way into the camp grounds.”

“I’ve never been up here Blaine, I don’t understand where you want me to go.” Kurt said.

“There is a sign for a bed and breakfast and an inn…take that exit and follow along. We aren’t going that far though.”

Kurt sighed. “Just tell me when to turn Blaine.”

Blaine snorted and played on his phone and Kurt drove until Blaine told him to turn. Then Blaine started paying close attention to the road.

“See that turn right up there…the big open gate. Turn there.” Blaine said.

Kurt turned, frowning.

He followed the paved road up and around a bend and to the front of a large lodge thing. He should have known. Blaine reached over and blasted the horn and guys spilled out the front.

Wes and David led the wave of boys who spilled out. Kurt noticed Jeff and Nick as well, and thought he might have seen a few others around somewhere…school, callbacks, or maybe even Dalton.

Blaine jumped out of the SUV and Kurt let his head fall forward against the steering wheel. He sighed and got out of the car, watching as Blaine was passed from group to group for hugs and high fives and chest bumps and the whole nine yards.

“Kurt! I’m so glad Blaine talked you into camping with us!” Wes shouted, so Kurt could hear him over the noise the other guys were making. “There is a fire out back and we’ve already set out drinks. There is still some chowder on the stove if you haven’t eaten yet. Richards will be up later to clear it away, but he’ll leave snacks out, so don’t worry if you’re not hungry now. Would you like to take your bags up before you head out back?”

Kurt watched as Blaine draped his arm around a guy Kurt wasn’t familiar with and moved with the group of boys towards they backyard.

“I guess I’d better.” Kurt said. He reached in and grabbed Blaine’s duffel bag and his backpack, giving the rest of the gear in the back a longing look. David was waiting for him instead of Wes.

David showed Kurt a room with double bed. “Wes got called to see if Richards would leave out stuff to make s’mores with. You lucked out; Blaine won the flip for this guest room. Jeff was put out because he and Nick are one of the bunk rooms and he has to share with Lenny.”

Kurt smiled. He dropped off the bags and followed David out towards the back through the house, taking note of where everything was.

Half an hour later he went back into the kitchen for some soup. Blaine hadn’t even acknowledged Kurt since they pulled up other than to get the keys so he could get his stuff from the front seats where he’d left it and then bring the keys back to Kurt.

Jeff wandered in a bit later, to see Kurt rinsing out his bowl.

“You don’t have to do that. Richards is here. He’ll come wash up later.” Jeff said.

“I feel better if I do.” Kurt said.

He listened to Jeff talk about his classes and clubs he was involved in. He hadn’t realized Jeff and Nick were both at NYU and that several others they went to school with were at Columbia.

“Are you going to shoot with us tomorrow?” Jeff finally asked.

“Shoot?” Kurt asked.

“Wes has set up the archery range, but he’s also got trap shooting set up.”

“I haven’t ever done that.” Kurt said.

Jeff looked at him oddly. “Have you ever shot a gun?”

Kurt snorted.

“We go hunting.” Kurt simply said.

“Oh. I bet you could come shooting with us then. Of course if you don’t want to the hot tubs are both filled and the courts are set up and there is always gaming and TV in the house. The pool isn’t filled though. This is the week the official pool cleaners come out and scrub it so it needed to be empty for that.”

Kurt just nodded.

“We should go see if they’ve started telling scary stories yet!” Jeff said, dragging Kurt back out to the yard.

Kurt watched as the guys told stories and drank and Blaine talked and chatted with everyone but him, leaning in and snuggling in to random guys all night. Blaine spent a good amount of time with two blonds in particular, both darker blonds than either Sam or Adam, but blonds none the less. Kurt mostly hung with Jeff, while Nick seemed to be having it out with a red headed man about the amount of alcohol he was consuming.

Kurt went up to bed at 1am.

He was one of four out of 25 up before 10am. Wes was up working on some school work and two guys Kurt didn’t know, who ended up friends of David’s from Yale, were out in one of the hot tubs.

Richards was a very nice man in his early 50s who took care of the lodge throughout the year and stayed to do all the work needed when people were at the lodge. He made a mean coffee cake and had no problem with Kurt making himself an omelet.

Richards showed Kurt the ATVs, all with keys ready so that they could be used, the dirt bikes and gear and the trails and explained how far back they could go before running into other people’s property or into the state forest. There were a lot of woods out back and to the north of the house that Wes’ family owned. He was warned not to get lost.

Blaine was finally awake around noon and Kurt joined him for lunch, along with most the rest of the guys.

Jeff bounded up to Kurt and Blaine (and the two blonds and a dark haired man whose hair was actually a mess of ringlets).

“We are going to the range this afternoon to shoot. Wes decided he wanted to do skeet shooting and we don’t have the proper set up here for that. Do you still want to come?” Jeff asked.

“Sure,” Kurt said.

Blaine looked at the two blonds who shook their heads and then answered. “I think I’ll stay here. I’m not big on shooting.”

Jeff looked at Blaine weird. “You love shooting with us.”

“I just think I’ll stay, but Kurt should definitely go if he wants.”

Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll follow you guys. When are we leaving?”

“We are heading out at 2.” Jeff answered and then waved as he bounded off to the next bunch of guys to see who was going.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay, Blaine?” Kurt asked.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll hang with Ricky and Edwin. I doubt you knew them; they both graduated my first year at Dalton. Ricky was the head of the Warblers council before Wes, he served with Wes and Wes’ cousin Lance,” the blond wearing the man bun waved, “and Edwin was fencing champion. That’s why I knew all about fencing when we got to stage fighting class…I use to watch Edwin fence all the time.”

Kurt smiled while struggling to keep his snort in. Blaine had been called out over and over and over for improper fencing during class, and ignored the teacher every time…insisting he knew the real rules. Kurt hadn’t interfered with that mess. Blaine and the professor’s animosity towards each other had become legendary and Kurt wanted no part in it. He and Blaine had not been paired since the fiasco that occurred the week he’d been able to participate again in class after being bashed in the head, so it was just easier to stay out of the fuss and focus on class and not upsetting Blaine by paying too much attention to any specific other people in class.

“I’m sure you’ll have fun, then.” Kurt said.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok, Kurt?” Edwin asked. “Don’t let Jeff bully you into shooting if you don’t want to. Blaine has told us all about how you aren’t into things like sports and horror movies and such and prefer clothes and fashion and musicals.”

“Really now?” Kurt asked, smiling the type of smile that would have warned Santana and Rachel he wasn’t happy. Blaine seemed not to notice.

“I’m sure we could find you some of the movies you’d like,” Ricky said. “Wes has girl cousins who come up here to the cabin every summer. Most the movies pulled out for the week are horror or action movies, you know…guys films…though, sorry. I’m sure you’ll have time to watch other things though when we are doing the tournament video games later today and tomorrow. There is a TV in the back room past the gym equipment since we use the TV room, the theater and the gaming room for tournaments, but it’s hooked up to a DVD player and the satellite. Patrick and Felix are really the only ones who don’t participate in the tourney. Felix totally would but his brain won’t let him be in the room with video games for long.”

“I’ll be fine, I’m sure.” Kurt said.

“Felix is the boy who looks like a clone of David.” Blaine said. “Patrick is the red head without the huge mass of freckles. Neil has the freckles.”

“Thanks, Blaine. Did I see Conner last night?” Kurt asked. Conner was one of the non-warblers Kurt had been friendly with when at Dalton. Blaine had hated him since. Kurt had always thought it hilarious that Blaine hadn’t wanted to date him or notice Kurt’s crush on him but had bristled up like a dog protecting its bone whenever Kurt spoke with Conner.

Blaine growled. “Yes, he’s here with his boyfriend, Jake.”

“Cool, I’ll have to find him and catch up later.” Kurt said.

“Kurt, he is very serious about Jake.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Yes, Blaine. I’m sure he is.” Kurt fiddled with the ring on his finger. He and Conner had never been like that anyway…Conner wasn’t even out at the time to anyone and Kurt was who he’d approached about things. Kurt had once asked why he didn’t talk to Blaine and Conner had answered that he knew Blaine couldn’t keep a secret. Kurt had just nodded. “Who was the guy Nick was tal…”

“Come on, Blaine. Let’s go see if they’ve started the after lunch movie!” the dark haired guy said as he pulled Blaine towards the huge theater room that Kurt had seen on the way to the kitchen.

“Have fun later, Kurt!” Blaine yelled as he bounced after the others.

Kurt sighed at his questioning being interrupted. He went out to check out the trails in the woods to the north of the house. He’d at least get hiking into his foiled camping trip.

Ten minutes of slow wandering into the woods on the largest trail and he could no longer hear the boys screaming and yelling at each other outside where they were playing basketball and tennis. Five minutes after that several game trails broke off the path and Kurt decided to take one of those to see where it led.

It was a short trail, not more than about 100 to 200 steps. It led to a lovely clearing with a brook running through the back of it and wildflowers peeking through the carpet of old fallen leaves. There were some great trees surrounding the clearing, huge green leaves making the light coming through dapple over the few evergreens. Kurt brushed the leaves away, finding the ground mostly dirt under a copse of evergreens and birch and giving away to green grass which was trying to fight the dead leaves.

He made plans to come out the next day with his sketch book and pencils and possibly the camera before heading back to the house so he didn’t miss the trip to the shooting range.

It wasn’t all that late when Kurt got back, so he joined Jeff and Nick at the archery set up at the far end of the lawn. He didn’t see Blaine anywhere.

Using the bows Wes had for everyone’s use was fun, but Kurt missed his own. When he complained Nick teased him.

“What,” Kurt said. “My dad’s cousin was ecstatic when he learned of my interest in bows. Granted it started because I watched Robin Hood, but it was something he could work with in making a connection, you know. So when I outgrew my first bow, he took me and had a friend make me a longbow I could hunt with but would also look cool and be useful as a prop. I also have a hand crafted recurve and he is trying to convince me to come to the dark-side and join his love of cross-bows.”

“You’ve hunted with a bow?” Nick asked.

“I’ve gone bow hunting.” Kurt said. “I try not to actually hit anything and my dad and his cousin’s family all promise not to tease me too much when I cry as they field dress Bambi.”

Jeff had to sit down because he was laughing so hard.

“You should have joined the archery team at Dalton.” Jeff said.

Kurt snorted. “Do you remember what happened when Drew’s tire went flat?”

Nick snorted.

“The day at the Lima Bean?” Jeff said.

“Yeah. I offered to fix it and Blaine got all ‘You can’t do that. You don’t even like sports. You’ll mess up your hands. You’ll mess up Drew’s car. You’ll mess up your uniform. What makes you think you could actually fix a car?’ condescending about it, so I just called someone because Drew didn’t even know who usually looked after his car.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Nick said.

“I decided there that if Blaine wanted this fairy prince idea of me then who was I to ruin it? He wasn’t listening to anything contrary to it anyway, why force the issue? I joined badminton as my sport, although I admit if the ballroom dance team had had an opening I might have considered that. I steered clear of those sports that Blaine considered too much for my delicate little self and just let it be.”

“So, you could have changed the tire?” Jeff asked.

“Jeff, my dad is a mechanic. We own Hummel’s Tires and Lube. I’ve known how to change a tire since I was 8…by myself for the most part.”

Nick laughed.

“But, Blaine says you work as a singing waiter.” Jeff said.

“I like that job. I also work at Vogue.com. My choice of jobs is one of those just because I can do it doesn’t mean I always want to do it things.” Kurt said.

Wes called them to head off before anyone could say anything more.

To Kurt’s surprise, there were 18 guys heading to the shooting range and two of the others had headed into town to pick up something for Wes. Wes said the others were staying behind to work on projects and stuff for school.

Kurt worried Blaine would be bored, but decided to stick it out for a while. He stayed about an hour, hitting about 2/3s of the clay discs during his turns. He couldn’t call the time spent at the range a loss though; he’d spoken to Conner and met his Jake, who could not have been a better match for Conner if Kurt had been able to manufacture a boy for him. He made plans to see them during the summer. They were both at Yale. He spoke and joked with Jeff and Nick some more. He got to hang with David a bit, who oddly enough was not hanging with Wes as much as Kurt expected. It was great but he was still worried. He told Wes he was heading back to the house and waved goodbye to Nick and Jeff and David.

Kurt parked off to the side so others could get in and out easier when he got to the house and then headed in. He pulled the SUV up off to the side of the trail he’d hiked down earlier. He waved to Richards, who looked like he was starting dinner, as he entered into the kitchen and then went hunting to find Blaine.

Blaine wasn’t in the theater room. Some horror film was playing, but Kurt didn’t see anyone in the room watching it. He found one of the guys who’d been hanging around Jeff the night before in what Kurt had declared the library, surrounded by books and typing as fast as his fingers could fly.

The dark haired kid and Ricky were located in one of the Hot Tubs. Kurt saw them as he passed by and headed towards the game room.

The game room was empty, the inside gym was empty, the music room was empty. The laundry room was empty as was the formal dining room, the mud room, and the Kitchen…except for Richards. Kurt sighed and went to their room to get his IPod and go relax in the library with the guy working on his school work.

Their room wasn’t empty. The door wasn’t even shut.

Blaine was on the bed riding Edwin with more gusto than he’d ever shown while having sex with Kurt, and Edwin was calling him all sort of pettish type names that Blaine was simply eating up. The kind Blaine got upset at Kurt for using.

Kurt turned and headed down the stairs to the kitchen and Richards’ peaceful presence.

“So,” Kurt said after watching the man for a while. “Are there any actual rules about doing actual camping on the property?”

“As far as I know, no one has ever considered it,” Richards said.

Kurt nodded.

“But you know of no rules against it?” Kurt asked.

“There are no tents or anything around.”

Kurt nodded. He headed outside to the trail he took earlier. It was big enough for the ATV until the game trail. Kurt pulled the ATV to the back of the SUV and went to the garage to swipe a few bungie cords. He loaded the two coolers and the propane tank first and drove them to the game trail, unloading them and dragging them down the game trail until he reached the clearing. He drove back to the SUV and loaded the camp stove, the tent and a normal camp chair and the camp table. He drove those out to the game trail and took them one by one into the clearing. He headed back to the house and wandered into the Kitchen again, asking Richards if he knew when the other boys would be back.

Wes had called and told Richards they’d be back in about an hour and to have snacks ready. Kurt nodded and stayed to help make snacks, grabbing a few mini quiches before heading back out the door when Richards turned his attention towards dinner again.

Kurt loaded a tarp from the garage onto the ATV and sat the air mattress, the generator, the sleeping bags, blankets and pillows onto the tarp. He added the camp chair that reclined somewhat and had a foot rest to his pile. He loaded his art box and the bag of stuff from the kitchen, and finally the box with all the cooking and camping stuff he’d packed. He tossed the messenger bag with his laptop and camera in it over his shoulder and took off one more time down the trail.

After he moved everything into the clearing he’d tucked the messenger bag into the tarp bundle, secured with the bungee cords, and road back to the house. He headed into the theater room and started a new movie, fast forwarding it to about 40 minutes into the movie. He’d seen Men In Black enough to not have to worry about missing out on anything.

Jeff and Nick’s voices carried and Kurt hopped up and headed out to see the guys who’d just got back. Nick was once again having an animated discussion with a red head, but not either mentioned by Blaine. Jeff was looking a bit worried, but noticed Kurt and waved. Blaine and Edwin and Ricky and the dark haired guy were all in the Hot Tubs and Kurt made sure to wave as he went around back with the group coming in from shooting.

“Wes,” Kurt said siding up to him, “I’m going to go in and lay down. I forgot to wear the earplugs while out at the range and have given myself a headache.”

Wes waved and nodded. “If you miss dinner, there is always food in the fridge.”

Kurt smiled and nodded to him. Then he went up to the room and packed the few things he’d taken out back into the backpack and took the backpack downstairs, tucking it into the garage against the wall.

He went into the kitchen and grabbed more snacks and stuffed them into a baggie and grabbed some pain meds and a bottle of water. He waved to Richards. He went down the hall towards the stairs and the rooms, then turned back and ducked out a side door.

He fetched the backpack from the garage and ran to the trail, then happily and cheerfully hiked his way into the woods, to the game trail and into the clearing. He sang as he went.

“Into the woods, It's time to go, It may be all In vain, I know. Into the woods- But even so, I have to take the journey.”

Kurt felt lyrics had never so rightly expressed his feelings.

Kurt spent the next two hours setting up camp to his liking, listening to the Into the Woods soundtrack as he worked. It seemed appropriate. The music made his task seem quicker and less lonely. Singing made everything feel less tight. It hadn’t been that way in a while. Kurt tried not to think about why.

Kurt counted his blessing as he set up as well. He had the tent to himself. He had the air mattress to himself. He had his pillows. Everything would stay hair gel free.

He realized he was missing a few items, but by the time he’d decided he wanted those it was nearly dark. Kurt made himself an omelet again and a list of what he needed to get from the house. He took stock of what he had food wise and what he’d need to make and eat first. He decided to deposit what he didn’t want into the fridge of the house the next day, but without feeding two he would still have plenty to go around. Besides, first he had to see if he could make it through the night. It would be the first night camping alone he’d ever done.

Kurt put on warm clothes and kicked back in his deluxe camp chair with one of the books until it got too dark. Then he curled himself up in the sleeping bag nest he’d created with his laptop and watched one of the movies he’d put on it. When it finished, Kurt curled into his sleeping bag and bawled about everything until he fell asleep.

He slept through the night but woke early the next morning, which was fine by him. He wanted in and out again with minimal contact. He located the plastic wrap and wrapped all the meat he’d brought, except the frozen fish and a package of bacon, and tucked it into his emptied messenger bag.

Even hiking back to the house had him up and in the kitchen before anyone else. He tucked the food into the fridge and swiped one of the sleep masks that had been sitting in the cabinet that held the pain meds that Kurt had seen the night before. Kurt headed into the garage, where he borrowed a pair of hedge clippers which he could also use to cut rope, rope and another tarp and an empty box that wasn’t too large. He headed back into the kitchen and nicked a pack of frozen imitation crab, some butter cubes, and some fresh green onions and tomatoes and a bunch of fruit…bananas, oranges, grapes, pears, kiwis, berries. He tucked into his bag some fancy cheese spreads and a box of fancy crackers and a small loaf of French bread.

He noticed a note on the fridge door that mentioned the showers in the pool house were open and people should shower out there as well so there wouldn’t be too much wait.

Kurt skipped back to his camp and then skipped back to the pool house shower with a change of clothes and his personal care items in tow. The pool house not only had showers, but sinks and toilets as well. It was empty still, although he could now see movement up at the house.

Kurt was showered and back out towards his camp in fifteen minutes.

His day was blissful. He took photos of the brook and trees and flowers and all sorts of stuff, lovely detailed ones. He was sort of planning out part of Carole’s Christmas gift if he could locate someplace to turn the photos into a calendar.

Kurt also spent time sketching. He was taking set design over the summer and recalled from listening to those Apples who’d been in the class that those in the class were encouraged to get practice in sketching as many different environments as possible. He drew flowers and mushrooms and trees and rocks, focusing on details in some pictures and the big picture in others. He went on small hikes, following little trails here and there around his camp site. He kept his ears open for anyone yelling his name.

He wrote and he practiced his vocal piece and his drama piece. He let his anger out at a spot on one of his mini hikes where a stream ran through what seemed to be rock walls and that had a lovey echo. Kurt screamed and yelled and called Blaine all sorts of foul names and shouted curses upon him and his future generations, which was oddly satisfying.

Kurt went back to his camp for lunch, where he ate some of the pilfered cheese and fruit and drank specialty root beers. He packed into the small box all the food items that he couldn’t really use without a campfire…the makings for the Dutch oven peach cobbler, the marshmallows and s’mores ingredients, half the potatoes, the other items he’d bought for tinfoil dinners, and more than half the sodas. He figured he’d just take those things back to the SUV, and then he wouldn’t have to deal with them at camp.

He settled down to read some more and then checked his email and Facebook and played around on the internet for a while, plugging the external battery in to the generator and pedaling as it charged so he could watch movies again that night while he used the computer. He decided to charge his phone while he read in the evening and his IPod while he read the next morning.

He fixed himself a fry-up for dinner, using half the bacon and some potatoes, cheese, onions, eggs and peppers. He used a grocery bag he’d left stuff in to put the trash in and determined to take it to the house after it got dark.

Kurt dug out the flashlight he’d packed and took the trash, his personal care items, and the box to be taken to the SUV back to the house a bit after dark. He went to the SUV first and put the box in the back. Then he ditched the bag of trash in the outside dumpster. He saw a few people milling about, a few guys in the Hot Tubs and a few more by the fire pit. He spoke to one of the guys he didn’t know who said most were in the house playing a video game tournament. Kurt nodded. He headed to the pool house to shower and use the bathroom. There were some things he was not doing in the woods unless he absolutely had to.

On the way out, he nicked several smaller trash bags from the box of the under the sink.

The night was spent peacefully curled up in his tent, without the crying of the night before. He’d put on the sleep mask, as well, so he actually slept a bit late. Kurt wasn’t too upset about it. During the night he decided he really wanted to play on one of the dirt bikes, so he figured he’d stick around for a bit and being seen wouldn’t be bad, unless it was Blaine…besides he hadn’t slept in that much. It wasn’t even 8am yet.

Kurt skipped off to the pool house to do his morning routine…messenger bag in tow with clean clothes and his phone to take selfies on the dirt bike.

He slipped into the kitchen and found breakfast laid out, waffle batter to be put in the waffle makers and the goodies to top waffles with and decided to eat. Two waffles later, and a bowl of sugared peaches in cream later, Kurt skipped out the door to the dirt bikes. He was just barely hearing movement. He wandered around the bikes and decided on a yellow one that was good height and engine size. He fetched a helmet and jacket and took off on the bike to the area Richards had said was a bike course.

He was out on the bike for over an hour, going over the trails on the course three times a piece. He decided one of the first things he was doing when he got home was calling his dad and spending a whole lot of time apologizing for not letting him buy him one when he was younger. He might need to send apology gift baskets to the guys his dad worked with as well. He might not have become the racer they wanted but he would have loved one of these bikes.

He headed back to the house and met another of those guys he didn’t actually know as he was parking the bike. After a quick exchange where Kurt gave directions to the bike course and the guy informed Kurt that no one was down at the pool house anymore, Kurt went off and quickly took another shower to remove the dust and sweat. There were a few guys out down by the archery course, but Kurt didn’t see anyone else as he skipped on back to his camp. There were three bikes gone and he could hear them somewhere off a ways though, so he figured the guy he spoke with went and dragged out some friends.

The rest of Monday consisted of pedaling to charge Kurt’s IPod while he sketched an absolute brilliant Robin Hood costuming idea making Robin Hood and his Merry Men not people who went to archery tournaments but people who competed on the Motocross circuit…ok, maybe not so brilliant but fun none-the-less, and as he was sketching for fun it didn’t matter. He decided to charge the external battery again since he was still sketching when the IPod was fully changed, and then the other battery for the lantern.

He made an imitation crab omelet with onions and tomato and peppers and mushrooms and cheese. He was almost down to a dozen eggs from two dozen, but his cold foods were still cold, so he wasn’t all that worried. He might have to go up and sneak some milk out in a day or so, but he’d worry about that when he got there.

After lunch and clean up, he settled into his chair for some more reading. He’d finished the first novel and was starting the second. With any luck he could get at least four of the five books he brought read. By about four in the afternoon, with still no one calling for him, Kurt was starting to wonder about Jeff and Nick at the very least and why they hadn’t been asking after him. Of course he hadn’t seen Jeff’s car that morning either, so maybe that had something to do with it.

By late evening, after Kurt had made himself some soup with chicken stock and potatoes, adding the rest of the bacon and the rest of the onion and pepper and mushrooms, he settled down to check his social media and watch a movie before sneaking back to the house. Everything was fine. He hadn’t missed any calls or anything.

The trip to the house at just after 10pm was uneventful. No one was outside at all, even though there was a fire in the fire pit. Kurt was washed and ready to head back to his camp, trash tossed, without having seen anyone.

He slept the night through without any problems, but forgot the eye mask so was up way early. That was fine; he wanted to nick some milk anyway. Kurt picked up the empty water bottle he’d set aside for the purpose and tucked it in to his messenger bag. The house was silent when he got there, however once again breakfast was waiting. This time there was a huge pot of oatmeal and some absolutely heavenly looking scrambled eggs being kept warm in one of those containers used at like restaurant brunches.

Kurt ate eggs, which were divine, and a small bowl of oatmeal with fruit and cream mixed in and honey for sweetener. He nicked a water bottle full of milk and a partially used block of Colby Jack and several little balls of mozzarella. He still had some of the spreads left. He nicked a few bagels and a partially used tub of cream cheese and another small loaf of French bread. He picked up a lemon from the basket of fruit, as well as a banana, some grapes, an apple, and the rest of three berry baskets from the fridge. He also swiped more mushrooms, an onion, two bell peppers and a mostly used bag of spinach leaves.

His shower was quick and he was done before anyone else seemed to be up. He decided to go hiking again after lunch and to bring his paints.

He spent the morning on his computer, looking at his classes needed and what he could take over the summer. He planned on set design already, in fact was signed up for it. There was a dialect course he thought would be fun and if he took it during summer, if wouldn’t interfere with his singing course, which he heard it could. He decided to also do his vocal projection course, make-up arts, and one of the other history of theater courses. That would give him a full load for summer, but an easier load than was carried for normal semesters. He checked to see if he could register them yet…and he could, so he got that done. He emailed Carole, to let her know what days he wouldn’t be going to school over the summer…which included every Friday oddly enough.

Kurt fixed himself the left over soup for lunch, finishing it off with the bread and some of the Colby Jack. He washed what needed washing and put together a small kit to take hiking…watercolor papers taped down onto cardboard rectangles that were small enough to easily carry, about six, his watercolor cake set…small but containing 12 colors, a water bottle for drinking and one for using with the watercolors, a plastic cup and a plastic palette. He tucked his IPod into his pocket and let the ear buds dangle and turned the music loud enough that he could hear.

He left his phone on the table where he’d packed.

He had a grand time. He found the most delightful mushrooms to paint and a set of wildflowers that were peeking above leaves that were still bright red and yellow. He painted the little waterfall that cascaded between the rocks where he’d yelled earlier. He tried a little blue bird but he wasn’t sure he’d go so far as to call what came out a bird. Finally he painted a rock with moss all over it like a carpet.

He hopped and skipped back to the camp. It had been ages since he felt so content.

His phone was shrilly ringing when he got back. He looked at who was calling and saw Rachel’s number so ignored it.

He set out the paintings so they could dry even more and pulled out the fish so it could thaw enough to cook for his dinner. Then Kurt opened his laptop to Facebook. He called his Dad right then.

Because apparently, Kurt was Lost In The Woods. He couldn’t hear anyone calling for him, but there it was spattered all over his Facebook page…he’d been lost in the woods for three days or maybe two…or maybe just one. No one could recall seeing him…but some people said they had. But those people all said ridiculous things so obviously they were just saying stuff to make themselves feel important. Blaine noticed he was gone first…no Nick and Jeff did and Blaine was surprised…no Nick and Jeff are wrong, Blaine DID notice Kurt was gone first…if Blaine noticed then why was he surprised when Jeff asked about Kurt…on and on and on.

Rachel was in hysterics and said this was going to ‘ruin her big chance’ she was so upset.

Santana suggested they look for a trail of glitter dust.

Mercedes was wondering if she needed to head out to New York and cancel a show to do so and help look.

Mike asked if they had checked nearby camp grounds and was promptly told how silly he was and asked if he remember who was ‘lost in the woods’. Mike responded that maybe they should all think about that same question a bit.

Puck asked if anyone had asked his dad or Carole if they had heard from him. No one answered Puck.

Kurt sighed and turned off his computer. He plugged it into the external battery to charge. He plugged his IPod into the pedal generator and his little external speaker and started to pedal. He called his dad again…who asked if he was safe and then said he really didn’t care as long as no authorities were called in. Then asked why none had yet been.

Kurt said he didn’t know and that he was close enough to hear if anyone was actually looking for him or calling for him...and no one was.

“I mean seriously, Dad, I am a 10 minute brisk walk away from the house everyone is staying at. I was at the house this morning and there was no one even up. I spent the morning in my camp registering for school, sent Carole an email, and then spent the afternoon till I called the first time wandering around the woods, and not always deeper into the woods, stopping in places long enough to PAINT! No one has been out here looking.” Kurt nearly yelled.

“And you’re sure you’re warm enough?”

“I got hiking clothing, Dad. I could model for some catalogue like LLBean.” Kurt said with a sneer. “Granted there are a few pieces I might consider moving into my normal wardrobe…but most are too lumberjack chic for my tastes. I got lined jeans, Dad and they do nothing to enhance any sort of figure what-so-ever!”

Kurt smiled as he heard his dad’s laughed.

“What are you doing up there anyway?” his dad asked.

Kurt explained the magazine and how he totally misunderstood the word ‘camping’ in Blaine’s world.

“I’m not kidding; these guys seem to think staying in the house is camping…because they have a fire in the fire pit out back and do things like archery or go shooting and have dirt bikes and ATVs out for use. It is ridiculous. I swear I made Jeff loose his capacity for speech when I said I had been shooting before, but never trap or skeet shooting…I went hunting. Luckily I did that while chatting the first night we got here and not while out shooting the bows at targets the next morning. It would have been a shame to have shocked him so badly he took his bow shot when I mentioned hunting while at the bows; Jeff was so not being safe and would have probably hit one of the guys running about the yard at that time.”

“Anything good come about with this?” Burt asked.

“I have reconnected with Jeff and Nick; I didn’t even know they were in New York. I have reconnected with a few other of the Warblers. I have learned you can rent equipment from the Student Recreation Center and that NYADA has a Student Recreation Center, and it has this awesome climbing wall and a pool that is just open to students and staff and they do extra dance, fencing, stage combat, tumbling and classes like that for a low fee. I bought this absolutely awesome generator which had these pedals and you pedal on it to charge stuff, but it is easy to pedal, so you can just sit there and pedal as you read or such at the camp and you can charge things like your phone or IPod or tablets or charge external batteries which you can use to charge things like laptops…or a lantern. I also bought a very nice lantern. I figured both could be useful for emergencies, like if we lost power again, so I dipped into the emergency fund at the sporting goods shop…which did include clothing purchases but I’ll refund that money back into the emergency fund. Anyway, the sporting goods shop had this awesome first time student buyer discount of 50% and then another 20% discount for a single item. And their student discount is usually 30% off anyway, which is really good. I have decided that Blaine is a cheating and lying piece of crap and not worth my time or effort. Oh, and I would like to officially apologize for telling you ‘no’ when you offered me a dirt bike…I was a fool, those things are awesome. I took out a 250cc four stroke and it was so fun. I didn’t even care the helmet messed my hair up. I seriously should have let you talk me into that when little.”

“Back-up kiddo. What was that about Blaine?” Burt asked.

Kurt sighed.

“I was willing to go ‘camping’ Blaine style when we got here, but he spared NO attention to me at all, except once to warn me off talking to an old friend…making it sound like I was the one who cheated and was after guys even though we are engaged…which I don’t think anyone there knows or pays attention to, even though the blasted engagement happened at Dalton. So I came back from skeet shooting early and walked in on Blaine being screwed by someone else! So…I am done. We have been fighting about everything since he moved back in, he gets mad at me every time I try to tell him anything like…oh, you should study, we have a huge test next week or we do need to go to class, it is kind of one of those things you do when you go to school, and he never listens to me, not about what I like to eat, not about what I’d like to watch, and not about not wanting to get married until after I have graduated! Then he is hanging with these guys and not telling me, lying about where he’s been or what he’s been doing, and now he’s fucking around and I’m done.”

“Oh, Kurt. So that’s why you ended out on your own?” his dad asked.

“Yep.”

“And are you going to go tell them you aren’t lost?” his dad asked.

“Nope. Not until someone comes yelling for me. I’m not exactly hiding. Or if the authorities come yelling for me, or in with the sirens…I’d be able to hear them I’m sure. We’re supposed to leave Friday afternoon so we’ll be back Friday night so Blaine can do some studying for finals week and get together his presentations and such. So if no one comes yelling before then I’ll break camp and then go borrow the ATV to move everything back to the SUV so we can go.”

“You telling Blaine you’re done then?” Burt asked.

“Not planning on it. I’m planning on right after finals week. That way his schooling disaster can’t be blamed on me…although it probably will anyway.”

“You are sure he’s going to fail?” Burt asked.

“Dad, we share 6 classes…he pulled strings to get into them. I have done half my finals stuff already. I spent weeks putting together presentations, picking and working on pieces, writing papers, practicing my dance stuff…although we don’t share that class. I don’t think he has given any serious thought to any of it.”

“It’s ok, Kiddo. It is not your responsibility to make him do his work.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Well, I’m going to go make sure Carole doesn’t think you’re lost in the woods. You take care and find something relaxing to do.”

Kurt leaned back in his camp chair, his feet stilling after his dad hung up. He really didn’t want to become ‘unlost’ until someone tried to find him, however he wasn’t sure he wanted to sacrifice his evening shower and tending to business either. He also sort of wanted to see if he could figure out how come, if he was lost enough to shout about it all over Facebook, no one was looking for him and how come it took this long for anyone to notice he wasn’t around.

The first answer, of course was to see if he could figure out a more detailed timeline from Facebook.

Kurt popped open his laptop and got on Facebook. He ignored the message box for the time being and just started looking at the feed.

At a bit after noon, Blaine posted on his wall about Kurt not being around and to stop calling him to talk to Kurt. Jeff answered with ‘where the hell is he, since that was what you said last night as well’ and ‘if you don’t want me to call you to talk to Kurt, give me his damn phone number’. Jeff, who has check-ins at food places and such, was in NYC with Nick and Lenny… who was apparently Nick’s brother and who they had to rush back to NYC because he didn’t feel well and then who ended up having his appendix out. They had left right after Kurt had headed to the bedroom according to the posts on Nick’s Facebook page, which was oddly enough how he seemed to be communicating with his mother. Anyway, apparently Nick had wanted to ask Kurt something and was trying to get hold of him, but was busy and almost constantly on the phone with other family members and didn’t have his current phone number. So, Nick had Jeff calling Blaine…starting Monday afternoon. Jeff was apparently told consistently that Kurt was probably off in the bathroom and Blaine would have him call as soon as he got out, or outside and Blaine would have him call as soon as he got in, or sleeping and Blaine would have him call in the morning…or just not around that Blaine could see and Blaine would have him call as soon as he came around. The phones calls never last long because Blaine would then tell Jeff he was in the middle of something and then hang up on Jeff…no offer to take a message or anything.

Also a bit after noon, Jeff called Wes and asked if he could find Kurt and give him Nick’s number so he could call Nick since Blaine wouldn’t. He also called David, to ask him to look for Kurt but David was in NYC as well, picking up one of their friends from the airport…whose flight had been delayed for 12 hours and so ended up in at 11am on Tuesday not 11pm on Monday, in fact when Jeff called they were still in the airport as even that time was late and they were still waiting for the luggage to be able to be picked up. David couldn’t remember seeing Kurt past the shooting range. However, Blaine had also told David each time he asked that Kurt was hanging with Conner or with Jeff and Nick…because he didn’t like video games. Jeff pointed out that he and Nick had been gone since right after they got back from the shooting range, Kurt wasn’t hanging out with them.

Wes called Nick, since Jeff was on the phone with David, and told him he couldn’t find Kurt. And that Blaine couldn’t actually seem to remember the last time he’d seen him.

Nick posted up a note on Kurt’s Facebook page asking Blaine how he could treat his fiancé like he was. Jeff posted a note asking any of Kurt’s friends if he’d been in touch. Wes asked why Nick thought Kurt and Blaine were engaged…and found out about Blaine’s proposal at Dalton and that they hadn’t even been dating again for two full days and about how many people were there and then started questioning Blaine…still over Kurt’s page…about that situation. Blaine had said nothing other than hadn’t he done a fabulous job at making such a grand display.

Wes posted that supposedly some people had seen Kurt, with the dirt bikes or walking around by the pool house showers…but Blaine posted that the dirt bike story was obviously stupid…didn’t they know Kurt? Of course he refused to answer when asked when he’d seen Kurt last.

Then Wes posted that no one could find Kurt and did that mean he was lost? And when did he get lost? And how could no one notice Kurt was missing?

And Kurt’s Facebook page exploded into chaos when his Lima friends all started commenting…none except maybe Mike and Puck in any manner that helped.

Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed. David posted that he and Ravi, the friend he was picking up, would be on their way and some people had a whole lot of explaining to do. Jeff and Nick posted that they would be up in the morning, however they still couldn’t leave until Nick’s mom got back to look after Lenny, who was apparently hopeless and didn’t even have a single friend who could be trusted not to screw up his recovery.

Still, no one at the house right now was looking for him. He figured that he’d walk down and decide then if he was going to risk the shower and toilet or not. However, dinner was calling and he deserved something good.

The fish had thawed enough to be fried up and Kurt seasoned it with the lemon and some butter. He ate some fruit and the bagel and cream cheese. He broke out another of the fancy sodas. He washed up. He gathered the used water bottles and tucked them into a bag he was using for recycling. He gathered the trash and put it in another. He plugged the external battery into the generator yet again and peddled while reading his novel until it was too dark to read anymore. He switched out items to be charged half way through and charged his IPod. His phone was still fine.

At nearly midnight, Kurt took his bag with his stuff in it and walked down to the house. He’d probably hit things just right, David had just pulled in when Kurt hit the tree line. Kurt leaned against a tree to watch and gather information which he hoped would shed some light on his ‘disappearance’ and the lack of hunting for him.

“Would you like to explain what the Fuck is going on?” David yelled at Wes who had exited the house as David stood from behind the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know.” Wes said. “All I know is that when Jeff called at about one-ish, and I went to ask Blaine where Kurt was, Chez got all huffy and yelled at me because Blaine was getting grouchy and not being as fun since Jeff kept calling. He and Ricky were hanging in the exercise room and said Blaine wasn’t with them, so I left to look for him, however Blaine and Edwin were there when I walked back by like two minutes later. I asked Blaine where Kurt was…he said he was probably with Conner. I found Conner, who hadn’t seen Kurt since the shooting range...nor had Jake. Conner said he thought Kurt and Blaine had been together tucked up in their room enjoying their time together, since that was what Kurt thought the week was for and since he hadn’t seen either.”

“I went back to ask Blaine why Conner thought he and Kurt would be tucked up together and who else might Kurt be hanging with, but I couldn’t find any of the four, so I just started asking about Kurt. Rocko was certain Kurt was the one who told him about the dirt bike trails. Lex thought he’d talked to Kurt Sunday night about how everyone was up playing video tournaments still so the shower was free. No one else can recall seeing him around. So, I asked Blaine if he knew if Kurt’s stuff was in the bedroom or not…after hunting him and Edwin and Ricky and Chez back down…this time to the hot tubs. He said he didn’t know … he hadn’t looked. I asked when he saw Kurt last. He shrugged and said he hadn’t been to their room since Sunday afternoon really, just long enough to get some clothes so he could bunk down with Edwin and Ricky and catch up with them. So I asked if he realized no one had seen Kurt since Saturday afternoon, did he see Kurt after he’d gone up to bed with his headache? Blaine said he hadn’t even known Kurt had gone up with a headache, he’d slept on the floor of the movie room after watching movies all night long with Edwin and then didn’t look for Kurt because Kurt is always up early so of course he wasn’t in the room when Blaine went and got his clothing and such on Sunday.”

“So Kurt’s been missing since Saturday Night?” David yelled.

“Well, maybe?” Wes said.

“Where have you looked?” David shouted again.

“Umm….”

“Wes?” David’s voice dropped very low and dark. Ravi, or at least that was who Kurt assumed had also climbed out of the car was, laughed.

“The house?” Wes said. “Look, It’s not my fault. I kept asking around if people had seen Kurt and Conner found out I was asking around about Kurt so he took off to find Blaine and then all of a sudden it was like world war three! I don’t know if anyone but Felix doesn’t have blood on them somewhere! You had been calling and everyone was antsy and so when Conner found Blaine and started screaming at him everyone just joined in….then Chez threw a punch at Jake when Jake said something about boyfriends and then others started throwing punches and when Richards finally blew the blow horn and everyone stopped, you had a bunch of guys who were just caught in the middle and then one side who said Blaine was engaged to Kurt and were screaming about that and one side who kept insisting the other was delusional, after all Blaine was with Edwin, didn’t we all know that? It was insane. People even ended up going to the ER. So we had to spend hours patching people up and stopping the little fights that keep breaking out here and there and our friends from college are all stressed at being caught in the middle. Most of the guys have calmed somewhat, since Jake took Conner off to the ER and Brent went with them, he thinks he might have fracture his foot. Except Rocko, who seems to still want to tear Blaine limb from limb.”

“Blaine isn’t with Edwin.” David said.

“Yes he is.” Wes said. “They’ve been an item since Edwin saw Blaine perform at the old lady’s showcase….the one we left early.”

“The one you left early. The rest of us stayed, remember? We wanted to talk to Kurt but Blaine took Kurt off someplace before we could, well…I wanted to talk to Kurt. And Felix wanted to meet Kurt. Blaine announced Kurt as his fiancé there.”

“Don’t be silly, David. I was with Blaine and Edwin the next day and they decided to see each other then.”

“Like it would matter at all to Edwin if Blaine was engaged or not.” David said “I am not kidding, Wes. Kurt and Blaine are engaged.”

“No, Blaine is with Edwin. They go out about three times a week in the evening. They hang out on weekends during the day. And Edwin’s not as wild as he used to be, he promised he’d stopped the behavior that got him suspended way back then.”

“And you believed him. He never changed, Wes. He just stopped screwing with kids with enough clout to do anything about him. When did Blaine and Kurt break up?” David asked, throwing his hands in the air.

“I don’t know.”

“And where does Blaine live?” David asked.

“He lives with Kurt, remember? He moved in when Kurt’s roommates left…” Wes said.

“Ok. So…you know Kurt…do you think Kurt would have Blaine move in with him after they broke-up recently?” David asked, very slowly.

“Well, no.” Wes said. “but maybe it wasn’t recent?”

“Ok…Let’s play with that idea. So…we all know and accept that Kurt and Blaine broke up early October of Blaine’s senior year, right?” David asked, still drawing out the sentence like he was talking to a very small child. Kurt had his bag up to his face to stifle any laughter. The guy David had brought with him wasn’t even trying.

“Yes. Trent said Blaine was devastated.” Wes said.

“Did he? Huh, Sebastian said Blaine was only upset when he wasn’t chasing that blond kid Sam around and if people mentioned Kurt.”

“Well, Sebastian is an ass, besides, how would he know?” Wes said.

“Yes, well Blaine spent months and months with Sebastian the year before on the phone and at coffee shops and skyping and texting and going to Country Club gatherings together, so I figure he probably knows Blaine’s behavior well.”

“He drugged them!” Wes shouted.

“Hunter, the guy YOUR godfather brought into the school, drugged them. Sebastian was one of TEN who were completely clean, and it was Sebastian who brought forth the evidence after Blaine and Sam took their story to the board and nearly got all of them expelled and jailed. Including the blackmailing and threats Hunter was using against half the kids he was drugging. The other half…the ones not being blackmailed or threatened… were your godfathers minions brought in to prop up Hunter. Besides, the reason Sebastian knew how Blaine was acting is because Sebastian’s role in Hunter’s regime was to keep tabs on Blaine, so they could either get him back like YOU wanted or nullify the threat that several saw Blaine as, for some reason.”

Wes growled. “I thought you said you agreed with me about everything that went down.”

“Again, you weren’t listening. I have argued with you about this since we graduated and I met older Warblers, ones who weren’t under your Godfather’s reign of terror. I argued with you THEN that you needed to go to the school and replace YOUR council choice when Blaine left, which you refused to do because if you couldn’t have Blaine replace you, you didn’t want anyone else to take his spot. I agreed we should have set up the council more solidly before we left…I should have listened to others and picked a choice truly my own instead of following your advice… and we should have drilled Blaine on his intentions before summer. He was talking about leaving before he left to his summer job, he wanted a Nationals title.”

“He went for Kurt.” Wes said. “Thad said so.”

“And the Warblers who weren’t so enthralled with him to let him push and shove them around said he spoke about Kurt’s old Glee Club and nationals and the opportunities that Kurt’s school would provide him with, including being top of his class without much work and main lead vocal of a winning choir that was not acapella and thus would allow him to shine more.”

“Because they were jealous.”

David rolled his eyes and his whole head. “I forgot how much of a Blaine worshiper you were and how all your brains leak out your skull when he comes up or is nearby. Is he good, Wes? There has to be some reason you are so up his ass!” David asked.

Wes nearly flew at him with the intent to hit him when the guy with David grabbed his arm.

Kurt watched the whole bit with wide eyes. Suddenly a lot of Warbler things made a whole lot more sense, like why the talk always seemed to not quite match the actions. And why although a great deal of the school worshiped the ground the boys walked on, there was a substantial subsection that did not and who Blaine kept Kurt away from very aggressively.

“Don’t forget, Wes,” the other guy said in an accented voice that Kurt couldn’t quite place. “I learned a lot the year I spent working for the headmaster while we figured out finances for my third year of University. I watched you let that boy cheat off you his full first year. You handed him papers you had done and walked him through changing them just enough. You gave him solos over everyone else every time he hinted he wanted one. You let him pick the music, even though his choices took us out of competition. David might have guessed you favored the boy…but I know and have proof.”

“How dare you Ravi!” Wes yelled. “Besides the reason you had financial issues was because your family was caught laundering money.”

“An uncle through my great great great grandfather was laundering money. It just took a year to prove we had nothing to do with him and hadn’t for decades.”

“So, it soiled your name. You have no room to speak or nothing to say!”

“You forget, Wes. The Warblers existed before you and our gatherings and traditions existed before you and even with the taint that has befallen them…taint attached to YOU and YOUR family…they will exist long after you die!”

“We were going to make them great!” Wes said. “Bring glory to Dalton again.”

“They are no longer on the show choir circuit. And we were great. MY sophomore year we took nationals at acapella, when it was a true acapella group. They will be again. We have instructors taking over who will not let the chaos you and your kin introduced during your years on the council remain. When things have been restored, the council will be brought back.”

“Yes, well….none of this has anything to do with right now. And I don’t see why we are arguing about this again David.” Wes said, leaning back into a sullen stance with his arms crossed over his chest.

David sighed. “We will argue this every time it comes up until you acknowledge what you have done, Wes. I understand the whole ‘legacy’ issue, but your family abused it and used your godfather’s appointment as Head of Student Activities to run rampant over everyone else. You cost other members their legacy appointments to the council, Wes. You all obstructed the traditions of the council and the Warblers.”

“My Godfather promised my Grandfather that all of us would hold our rightful places for a long as we wanted. Father and Uncle Lawrence just made sure of it. They all resented that they could only claim one year of council. Grandfather doesn’t care if other legacy children lost out. None are as important as we are.” Wes said.

Ravi chuckled. “Your godfather has lost his position as head and is now coordinator of intermural sports. Your younger cousins and younger brother will not be on a Warbler council, either. Your junior year, a young man came and requested a council voice, do you recall? The first year Blaine was there?”

“Yes, blond kid. Didn’t want to claim his spot yet, which he insisted he should have without anything to back that insistence up, but wanted a council voice on song choice.” Wes said.

“Yes. Edgar Dalton. You refused and instead gave Blaine input. Blaine bragged about it. Edgar stopped attending meetings and then moved schools during winter break. Your insult was excused, as Edgar believed the tradition of a single year of council membership was being observed and as he hadn’t forcefully explained who he was. The next year, when you were still on the council, his father brought up issues and started a search to find other insults and aggravations. Your godfather’s introduction and backing of Hunter was his last mistake. Dalton wanted him roasted, but the Headmaster and Board decided quiet removal of power was better. Your family was important due to funding and legacy, but no more really than many others. They should have remembered that.”

Wes growled. David snorted.

“I can’t believe you would support those people over me, David. Your best friend!” Wes shouted.

“Yes, best friend…who didn’t speak with me after I told you to make a new council appointment when Blaine skipped out for over a year. I connected with Ravi and others at Yale, like I was told to when I graduated from Dalton and found out a lot that we had lost. Much of which I was sad we had missed out on.”

“We thought it unnecessary for our goals, David.” Wes said.

“Goals never shared with the rest of the Warblers or your fellow council members. Shall we get back to the topic? Are we agreed that Blaine and Kurt got engaged in March at Dalton, before Blaine graduated?” David asked.

Wes huffed. “Since it seems half the guys knew about it, then I guess. But I didn’t know about it and am still not sure it really happened. They could have misinterpreted it.”

“But something happened and Blaine and Kurt were together again?” David said.

“Fine, Sure.”

“So…When did they break-up again? And if they are broken-up…why does Blaine live with Kurt and how in the world do you think KURT would ALLOW that?” David asked.

Wes just looked at him.

“Yeah, I thought so.” David said.

“I didn’t say you were right!” Wes said.

“But you can provide no logical answer.” David said.

“I still think there is some logical explanation and that Blaine wouldn’t do that.” Wes said.

“Well, I suggest you do the logical thing then and march on into the house and ASK Blaine the status of his and Kurt’s relationship and then figure out where Kurt is…because I don’t know about you, but Kurt’s dad will not be happy if he has to come out here to find his son and YOU have done nothing and I for one want to have some sort of answers for him.” David said.

“Kurt’s dad isn’t very wealthy and is in Ohio. Why should it matter?” Wes said.

Ravi started to laugh and David took a huge breath and sighed.

“Kurt’s last name is Hummel. Like…Burt Hummel?” David said.

“And?” Wes said.

“And you are fucking flunking all your courses, aren’t you? Or did you switch majors?” David yelled.

“I don’t see why you are yelling again, David.” Wes snapped.

“Congressman Burt Hummel?” David said.

“Don’t be silly,” Wes said. “That is not Kurt’s dad. He was something like a plumber or electrician or something.”

Kurt smothered another laugh as David started to slowly slam his head against the top of his car.

“Like a mechanic, possibly?” Ravi asked.

“Yeah!”

“Like Congressman Burt Hummel is?” Ravi asked.

“Is he?” Wes asked.

“Yes.” Ravi said.

“Oh. Ok…fine. Let’s go inside and figure out what is up and see what we need to do and like maybe talk to people more and like build a time line? But stop picking on me! You can’t treat me like this in front of the others. It is just not right and it’s not fair.”

“Fine.” David said.

“We’ll see.” Ravi added.

David popped the trunk and Ravi went and grabbed a large duffle bag from within. Then they all headed to the house. Kurt moved forward a little bit farther and could see that most people still up seemed to be in the large dining area that was off the kitchen. He figured the others were probably asleep. He moved across the yard to the side of the house and then snuck towards the back. No one was out at the hot tubs. Kurt ducked into the pool house, which was also blissfully empty. He showered and did his night routine.

He made it back to his camp without notice. His sleep was not nearly as restful as it had been the nights before, but he finally settled into a deep sleep.

It was late when he got up. It was nearly 10am. Kurt grumbled, but went about getting ready for the day at the camp. There was no way he could get to the pool house for a shower without being noticed that late in the morning. He ate breakfast; fruit and yogurt and a granola bar he crushed up on top. Kurt pulled out his laptop and checked his email. He had a note from the school saying his registration was official and a note from Carole saying she’d marked his days off and would figure out a time for them to visit and for him to visit and to have fun being lost. No one else had emailed him. He decided not to deal with Facebook or any other social media site.

He gathered the last of the cheeses and the last of the breads and bagels, some fruit and trail mixes and two bottles of water for his lunch and then set out into the woods with the camera to take more pictures. If a great deal of his late morning adventure took place near the edge by the yard of Wes’ place, it was surely a coincidence. Really.

He found wildflowers he hadn’t seen yet that he got pictures of and some cool close up of trees and bark and strange knots and light filtering through leaves. He took close-ups of as many different mushrooms as he could find, thinking of trying to use photo shop to make himself a woodland elf…or maybe a fairy. He took photos of the few moths he saw; surprised any were out yet at all. Finally he found a little tiny clearing where he could see and hear what was going on in Wes’ yard and settled down to eat …and spy.

Again his luck held. Jeff drove up as he was eating his banana.

“Where’s Kurt?” He yelled as he got out of the car.

David came out of the garage, holding a clipboard. “Where’s Nick? What time did Nick first call?”

“Nick left about an hour and half before I did, but he had errands to run. He’ll probably be about another half hour. Nick called Blaine Sunday night about 8pm. Kurt had said something about a place he works that has singing waiters and Nick’s mom said since her vacation was being cut short, she was bringing some of her girlfriends back with her and wanted fun things to do that were not the usual. Nick wanted more info about that place. Where’s Kurt?”

“I am trying to format a timeline. It is nearly impossible. Would Kurt ever ride a dirt bike?” David asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Jeff said.

David nodded as he marked something down.

“I think he left when he said he was going to go lay down. You guys left right after that. Someone might have talked to him Sunday night, but they aren’t certain. It doesn’t help that it was one of Wes’ friends from university and it was dark and everyone is stupid because when he described the boy he talked to they all insisted it couldn’t be Kurt because the guy’s hair wasn’t all fancy. If Kurt had hidden somewhere I doubt he was doing his hair all that much.” David said.

“He left Saturday?”

“However if Wes’ friend saw him and if it was indeed Kurt Rocko talked to, then he was seen Sunday night and Monday morning.”

“Still,” Jeff said. “That is a whole two days without contact!”

“Wes thinks Blaine and Edwin are dating.” David said.

“Kurt and Blaine are engaged.” Jeff said.

David nodded.

“Blaine didn’t go to the shooting range with us. He stayed here with Edwin and Ricky and their shadow. Kurt left the range early to come back and check on him. Blaine cheated on Kurt less than a month after Kurt left for New York. That was the reason they broke up. If Kurt walked in on something, he’ll be devastated.” Jeff said.

David nodded. “I spent the evening and morning watching Blaine. He is doing something with Edwin and maybe even with Ricky and Chez.”

“Shit.” Jeff said. “Have you asked Richards if he saw anything unusual?”

David’s head snapped towards Jeff. “No….and Kurt would be someone who would speak to him. Let’s go. We haven’t really searched the house either. Ravi and I got in past midnight and have had a hard time getting anyone even moving this morning. Lunch is breakfast. Seriously no one was even awake other than Ravi and I until half past 10 and Wes said we couldn’t fuss around and look about until everyone was up.”

“What do you expect, they are all camping.” Jeff said. “Hmm…has anyone asked Blaine what he explained about camping here to Kurt?”

“No.” David said. “Wes wouldn’t let us disturb him and he did not come out of the room he was in with Ricky and Edwin and Chaz until about 10 minutes before you got here. He was ‘too upset’ over the big fight last night.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Let’s go do those two things. Nick is going to want some solid answers when he gets here and as stressed as he has been the last week, I suggest we have something.”

Jeff and David walked back to the house and Kurt moved back to his camp. He left his electronics tucked away and pulled out his book. He sat in his deluxe camp chair and put his feet up. If his peace was going to crumble, he was going to get the most use of it he could. He did start timing. It took another 40 minutes before Nick got to the house, and Kurt, even as far into the woods as he was, heard the ruckus. He couldn’t hear the words but he could hear the sound and tell it was an angry sound. The wall of noise lasted only about five minutes. Kurt walked over to his drink cooler and pulled out one of the specialty sodas and settled back into his chair to wait on being found. He just hadn’t decided if he was going to answer when he first heard voices or wait till they came pretty much to him.

In the end the calling of his name didn’t start until he could hear voices. He heard the arguing first, in fact.

“I can’t believe it took you all so long to ask the butler dude.” A voice that sounded familiar but Kurt couldn’t quite place said. “I’m pretty sure Kurt said he met Blaine at a posh private school with great academics.”

Kurt was trying to figure out who he knew that he wasn’t expecting to be around here that he’d talked about Dalton who might possibly bother to show up to find him.

“Well, we never claimed what Kurt would call street smarts,” Jeff said.

“Mostly Kurt would say we all lacked logic as well.” Nick added dryly.

“Yes, well I would have to agree, at least for half the guys I’ve met so far.” The voice Kurt hadn’t placed quite yet said. Then the voice shouted and Kurt could hear it more clearly.

“Kurt! Kurt!”

“It’s Elliot!” Kurt said out loud, jumping up from his chair and putting his book on the table as he passed it on the way to the game trail leading out of the clearing and to the main trails.

“Kurt!” Jeff and Nick joined with Elliot in shouting. Kurt could see them coming around the bend to the section of the trail where the game trails branched off.

“Elliot!” Kurt shouted back, waving his arms so the guys could see him at the edge of the trail where his path broke off at.

Elliot broke into a run and swept Kurt into a hug, while Nick hurried over as well. Jeff followed a bit more slowly, on his cell phone.

“David said he’s glad you’re located and he’ll tell Richards. He hadn’t decided if he’s telling Wes yet. I think he is starting to enjoy the panic Wes is getting in as Richards reminded him that if you aren’t found by tonight they’ll have to call his parents and inform them a kid went missing on the property.”

Kurt chuckled. “Come on back.”

Kurt led them down his little path into his campsite.

Nick started laughing.

Elliot joined in.

“What’s funny?” Kurt asked.

“I told them that you’d have no problem camping, but that you’d also have it set up as nice as a hotel room.” Elliot said.

“Your camp chair has the ability to be a recliner!” Jeff said.

“You’ve been cooking out here?” Nick asked, poking around the edge of the table by the camp stove and peeking into coolers.

“Yes.”

“Haven’t you got bored?” Jeff asked.

Kurt shrugged. “Not really. I have been reading some novels I’d hoped to read during dead week, I’ve been out hiking and taking photos and making sketches. I have my IPod, and cell phone with games, and my laptop with movies and internet. I have been up to the house every day except today, twice a day pretty much. I would not have been good company.”

“So, I’ve got to know,” Nick asked. “Did you take out the dirt bike?”

“Yes! That was so much fun. When I called my dad yesterday I apologized to him. He wanted to buy me one when little and I always said no.” Kurt said.

“Wes owes us 20 bucks a piece.” Jeff said.

“Why wouldn’t you have been good company?” Elliot asked. He’d been looking around the camp site, peeking into the tent and flipping through the sketch book Kurt had had sitting on the table.

“I walked in on Blaine being fucked by one of his pals.” Kurt said. “I know if I have to look at him, I will not be able to keep the scathing lecture I desire to unleash upon his being to myself and I have decided that it is best delivered a bit more private than in front of several dozen other guys whom Blaine desires to maintain a good image with.”

“Oh, Kurt.” Elliot said softly. Elliot held out his arms and Kurt rushed into them.

Jeff and Nick wandered around the campsite pretending to look at things in detail while Kurt cried in Elliot’s arms.

Kurt’s tears weren’t as long lasting as any of the other expected. He removed himself from Elliot’s hug and wiped his face with his sleeve, before apologizing to everyone.

Jeff and Nick just shrugged.

“So,” Kurt said. “I suppose I have to be found.”

Jeff looked at Nick who tilted his head in thought. “Found yes, but I don’t know if that means you have to come back to the house…” Nick started.

“I mean,” Jeff continued. “At least not to stay. I know David would be really glad to see you and he really wants you to meet some of the other’s up there. Ravi, in particular seems to be highly interested in you. And I think Rocko would like to formally meet you as well.”

“Rocko?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah, the guy you apparently talked to about the dirt bikes.” Nick said.

“But Rocko?” Kurt asked. ‘That just so does not sound like a name from Dalton.”

Jeff laughed. “Oh my God, I forgot you missed Rocko’s years there. He graduated the year before you got there. But you are right. We were actually penalized for use of Rocko’s first name. Everyone was commanded to call him Mr. Rochester.”

“His name is Rocko Rochester?”

“Rocko Rude Rochester. The headmaster couldn’t handle people calling him by his middle name either.” Nick added.

Kurt shook his head. “What were his parents thinking?”

“His folks are rich, not smart.” Nick said. “They named his sister Bunny Muffin.”

“Anyway, as long as you came up to the house a few times a day and maybe sleep up at the house and were seen you could maybe be allowed to stay out here for the most part.” Jeff said.

“I’m fine out here for sleeping.” Kurt said. “It’s actually quite comfortable.”

Kurt walked the three over to the tent and unzipped the door.

“The air mattress in the one Sam slept on at the loft, so Blaine has slept on it several nights when he opted to stay out with Sam instead of with me. Blaine is not one to forgo his creature comforts, as I’m sure you all know. I have plenty of covers and pillows. I have plenty of food, in fact I haven’t even broke out the camp food yet. I have books and my laptop has movies and games uploaded to it. I even had card and board games to bring, but I left those in the SUV when I realized it was going to be just me out here.”

“I could stay out here, too.” Elliot added. “I mean I will need a ride back to the City at some point and I didn’t plan on making anyone take me back until the weekend. I know Blaine would be much happier if I were not up at the house. So, Kurt wouldn’t be alone.”

“And we could bring camp chairs out here from the house. There were tons more tucked in the garage and I have three more in the SUV, another one like the one out here and then two basic ones like the one by the table in case we had to hike to the camp spot too far. They are lighter. People who wanted to could come out here and hang.” Kurt added. “I mean, we could certainly bring anyone actually worried out here to see the set up. They could make certain themselves. I just….I don’t really want to be up at the house around Blaine for long periods.”

Nick and Jeff nodded. “At least come to the house and talk to David. I would say talk to Wes, but he’s being an ass. I’d think David would probably see your point.” Jeff said.

“I bet no one would argue with you staying out here if you can convince Richards you are safe and well.” Nick added. “If he knew exactly where you were at, any legal type issues would probably be covered as well, you know, in case any of the other guys like called their folks or something.”

Kurt sighed and rubbed his forehead. He really didn’t want to spend too much time anywhere where Blaine might be. “Fine. Let’s go now.”

Elliot walked over to Kurt and draped his arm over his shoulder. “Isn’t there anyone up there you’d like to see?”

“I guess Conner is still there, and I did want to spend more time with Nick and Jeff.” Kurt said. “Let me grab my phone and put things away.”

Kurt put his book and all his art materials away in the tent. He grabbed his phone and his soda.

“So, I heard there is an epic music room up at the house.” Elliot said as the guys all headed back to the main trail. “We could give them all a little show.”

Kurt chuckled. “Elliot, pretty much every guy in that house sung with the Warblers at some point. We could try to give them a show but they would join in. Seriously…these guys…they could just stop a whole school for performances. No one fussed! It was magical to me.”

“Those were the ones who sang A Capella, right?” Elliot asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes! We need to find the beatbox…I have something I’ve always wanted to try.”

“You have your pick,” Nick said. “There should be three at the house. There are some non-warblers at the house though, like Conner and Felix. And a few friends from different universities that aren’t even associated with Dalton. Not everyone will butt in on your jam session.”

“But enough will.” Kurt said. “Although, not many will try to take lead…so we are more likely to end up with background music than fighting for the front and center spots, especially if it is obvious we are just trying things out and not practicing for something that lots of people will be watching. Hmm…remind me to call my dad when we get back to the house.”

“So, I know you know Nick and Jeff here, and from what they have said you know the Wes kid whose family owns this place and David…who I think was one of the guys who we met out front?” Elliot said, looking to Jeff. “And of course Blaine. Who else do you know?”

“Yes, David was the African- American who met us out front. He was with Ravi, who Kurt doesn’t know. Ravi graduated a few years before Kurt was there. Wes hasn’t ever liked him because Ravi made it into the Warblers as a first semester freshman and was front man for two years. Wes didn’t make it in until the end of his freshman year and all he heard was about how Ravi made it as a first semester freshman and his making it as a freshman wasn’t that big of a deal. Of course Wes made it in just to be immediately put on the council and started putting in a dozen or so freshman a year so we wouldn’t have such a hard time keeping numbers and training singers so…” Jeff trailed off and Kurt answered.

“Hmm…I know Conner and I’d seen his boyfriend at the school, but never met him. He was the same year as Blaine and not into music much. I think that one dark haired baritone that Blaine would not let me speak to at all who was in David’s and Wes’s year was there.”

“Braydon. Blaine didn’t like him. He thought Blaine was given too much leeway and too much focus. He also thought Wes was an idiot for not taking advantage of having a countertenor in the group. There were about four of the older guys like that.” Nick said.

“That explains a lot.” Kurt said. “I always wondered why Blaine would not let me near some of the guys. Heck, Thad was seriously the only one my age I was ever introduced to and he did a good job of making sure I didn’t meet too many other kids my age while there. I hung around with Blaine and his crew and was handed into Wes’s care when Blaine couldn’t be with me.”

Jeff nodded. “Wes and Blaine were very proprietary about song options and so wanted to keep you and what you could do away from the others who didn’t think they should be so controlling and then there were a few who wanted to get to know you well enough to date you and Blaine hated that idea too.” Jeff added.

“Even though he didn’t want to date me?” Kurt asked.

“Oh, yes. Blaine couched it in terms of not wanting you scared or harassed or bothered after your horrifying trials in McKinley, but most of us knew Blaine long enough that was understood it was also one of those ‘this is mine and not yours’ things. Blaine is very possessive of his people…friends or relationships.”

“It was horrid the year before you came when he was a freshman, because he decided that Jeff was HIS friend and would not let me or Trent talk to him for about half a year, even though we’d known Jeff for years before that.” Nick said. “I had to sneak Jeff into my room while Blaine was supposed to be doing his homework to spend any time with him!”

“We resorted to weekends at either mine or Nick’s. In the end it worked out for the best though…Blaine was soooo mad when we got together before Valentine’s day that year and I kept answering his ‘Jeff is MY friend’ statements with ‘but I’m Nick’s lover boy’.” Jeff said.

“So his ridiculous tantrum at me wasn’t an oddity.” Elliot said. “I don’t know if I feel better or worse knowing that.”

“No,” Kurt said. “I probably ought to have told you that long ago.”

Kurt sighed as he could see the edge of the tree line up ahead. Elliot reached over and grabbed his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“It will be fine.” Elliot said. “I’ll stick by you and if Blaine tries to start anything, I won’t let him.”

Jeff snorted. “I bet Blaine doesn’t even show.”

“He was holed up in the bedroom you two were supposed to have with Ricky, Edwin and Chez when we started out looking for you.” Nick added.

“So Chez is the dark haired one who whines?” Kurt asked.

“Oh yes.” Nick said. “He is actually your age, but he was tossed out of Dalton at the end of Blaine’s freshman year, so he wasn’t around during the time you were there. He had a fondness for destruction…the cupboard that held half our sheet music and the loss of tons of sheet music was the final straw for him. And what got him tossed. He was mad because some girl told him no when he asked for a date.”

“Huh.” Kurt said. “I always thought you all didn’t have to deal with that kind of thing.”

Nick shrugged. “Oh we didn’t have to deal with bullying in the physical or blatantly vocal sense, but other stuff we still had to deal with. You were actually there at a good time. We’d had a mass amount of kids thrown out the year before when they cracked down on the rules and regulations and kids refused to deal with that. Those left knew we were being watched closely. But the professors keeping the tight watch went off on sabbatical during that next year and so kids like Sebastian weren’t reined in so much and then you get the Hunter debacle…but the teachers keeping standards up were back and willing to do something.”

“I’m glad I was. It was what I needed right then. Somewhere physically safe for me to regroup. I just ended up with way too much baggage coming out.” Kurt said. “And I really liked the classes and the school. We just couldn’t really afford it and I missed being able to be me. I was going NUTS in the uniform. Although I would have waited till the end of the year if we could have afforded the last quarter.”

“Blaine always said you left because you wanted to sing with your choir at nationals.” Jeff said.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Part of Blaine‘s problem all together is that Blaine doesn’t listen and can’t comprehend anything outside his immediate experiences. Blaine’s family never had money problems…never had to make hard choices or make ends meet or even just put anything on hold till the next paycheck. We got a six month emergency scholarship because my life was considered in danger and there was enough physical proof on my body when Dad called Dalton to ask about it. It does not cover six full months of school…it covered the few weeks in November and the few weeks of December. It covered the few weeks of January, February, March and we switched the first week in April because that was when the quarter there was over and I’d not have to start a few new classes and then be pulled out when the emergency scholarship was up. That scholarship waived two thirds of Dalton’s fee. With having to buy a new house and my dad’s medical fees and him not being able to work as much in the garage as he had before his heart attack earlier in that fall…we just could not afford it. I wasn’t even sure I’d be allowed to sing with the New Directions at Nationals since I hadn’t sung in any of the qualifiers, but I was hoping to be able to. I said I hoped to be able to sing with my friends again and join the club again, yes. But I said all that after telling him over and over about the financial worries and my doubt we’d be able to pull off fees till the end of the school year. That bit about hoping to sing with the New Directions again was all Blaine heard.”

Nick nodded. “He does have issues with hearing what is really being said and comprehending past what he wants to have been said.”

“And it doesn’t help that for the two years he was at Dalton, he was never expected to have to do anything other than that.” Jeff said.

Kurt snorted. “McKinley really didn’t make him have to listen to others either. He was still able to just do what he wanted and hear what he wanted and pretty much get everything handed to him on a silver platter.”

Kurt stopped as they hit the start of the trail into the woods and just stared for a few minutes at the house before sighing so hard that Elliot felt it and Jeff and Nick heard it from the few steps they were ahead. Elliot reached over and grabbed the soda from Kurt’s hand and grabbed the hand that had held the soda.

“Have I mentioned how ridiculous I find you all’s definition of camping?” Kurt said.

“No and I advise not doing so to the masses…they get cranky.” Nick said.

Kurt laughed and the tension eased out of him a bit. Jeff smiled and turned to Elliot.

“So what song did you want a beat-box for?” Jeff asked.

“Beatle’s Come Together…right now. I’ve been thinking about it for ages.”

Kurt smiled. “Oh…that would be good. If we get the band back together we should consider theme nights. Beatles would be great…avoiding certain songs of course. I used to sing a mean Blackbird.”

“What songs would we avoid?” Elliot asked.

“All You Need is Love is Forever Ruined.” Kurt said. “Got To Get You Into My Life might be as well, although I still have an insane desire to sing it in public ALL BY MYSELF!”

“Is that what he serenaded you with at that proposal?” Elliot asked.

“ All You Need Is Love? Yes.”

“That is too bad…but there are plenty of other Beatles songs which I think would fit us better anyway,” Elliot replied. “I would love to hear you sing Imagine and Hey Jude and we could have fun with Yellow Submarine.”

Kurt beamed. “And we have never done a real Madonna night. We’ll have to make some lists.”

David was waiting for them as the cleared the woods.

Kurt was pulled into a hug and patted down before he could say anything, even ‘Hi’.

“God, I am so sorry I didn’t even realize you were missing. I was fighting with Felix all Sunday and that always distracts me and at odds with Wes and then I left on Monday to pick up Ravi and I was just a horrid friend and…” David babbled as he patted Kurt down.

“David, I am fine.” Kurt said. ”No bumps or bruises or anything…all body parts accounted for. Who is Felix and why were you fighting?”

“Oh, God. I forgot to introduce you to Felix. And I’ve got to introduce you to Ravi…but word of warning now, he like worships your dad. You will be drilled.”

Elliot chuckled.

David looked at Elliot. “Who are you?”

Nick and Jeff laughed.

“This is Elliot Gilbert. He messaged Nick the moment he saw Kurt was lost with a phone number to call and demanded one of us drive him up here.” Jeff said.

Kurt smiled.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have to bring Dani as well.” Kurt said.

“Dani is in Minneapolis at a roller derby exposition or she would have been tagging along. I was at a Yoga training retreat but made it to the city before these guys left.” Elliot said.

“Dani?” David asked.

“She is the other member of my band.” Kurt said. “By the way, where are our beat boxers this weekend? Elliot wants to try something.”

“You have a band? We so need to talk. I’m David. I knew Kurt when he was a wee little junior who’d been chased from his school by bullying.”

“He started it a little over a year ago…right after he started work at the diner.” Elliot said.

“About three weeks after I got engaged to Blaine and two after Finn died.” Kurt said.

“Finn died?” David nearly shouted.

“I thought you knew that?” Kurt said. “Blaine was in contact with the Warblers at that time. He set up the engagement just the week before.”

“Yeah, he promptly ignored everyone as soon as they sung to you except Trent and one of Hunter’s little friends who was close to Edwin.” Nick said. “He even stopped talking to Sebastian and he called Sebastian every single day from the moment you left to the moment he convinced the Warblers to allow him back to Dalton to propose, even though he’d help ruin them. However, Sebastian heard from his dad. We sent flowers and put together a small fund which we sent to your dad at the end of the school year to help with whatever he thought it should.”

Kurt smiled. “I remember him saying something about that. I just wasn’t aware you Dalton boys were who he was talking about. He called you the bird boys. It makes sense now. I suppose we ought to head in and at least reassure Richards I am fine. Let him see it and not just hear it.”

“He’ll be easy.” David said. “I mean he was worried but not frantic. Conner…well, I’m sure the only reason he wasn’t out searching is because he got a concussion in the fight over you being missing and hasn’t been able to talk his boy into letting him off the couch until he stops throwing up if he moves to fast.”

“Conner has a concussion?” Kurt asked.

“Yes. He was way furious because apparently Blaine told him you were too busy to talk to him and it was too dangerous for him to talk to you and besides you didn’t like him anymore and so he shouldn’t be potentially damaging his relationship trying to talk with you.”

“Of course he did.” Kurt said. “Still, I’d like to apologize to Richards first.”

“He’s been in the Kitchen since the fight. I think he doesn’t trust us enough to go far anymore.”

“Geez, I wonder why?” Nick commented.

“This week has been way worse than spring break the year Kurt was at Dalton.” Jeff said.

“Hmm, you think? I mean six girls got pregnant and half the people here had to get tested for STDs for the next year, several needing treatment.”

“What?!” Kurt shouted.

“Wes didn’t check before we all headed out here and his cousin Juliette had also decided to use the lodge…anyway, we decided to share…more or less successfully.” David said. “That’s why Blaine couldn’t watch your Born This Way performance. He was up here camping with us. We left pretty much right after we sang at your school. Anyway, so Juliette was out here with like 20 girls from her boarding school and Wes pulled all us Warblers up and brought up several old Warblers and several guys from the soccer team and polo team and well…I think there were four babies that ended up born. Luckily no warblers were the daddies.”

“Ah. I thought he went somewhere with his folks for Spring Break.” Kurt said.

“He spent the last three days in New York with them…they went to a few shows and shopping. He had Wes drive him down so they didn’t come up and find out we were with girls all week.”

Kurt rolled his eyes.

“You guys are ruining my image of private school boys.” Elliot said.

“You thought they were all sweet and innocent didn’t you?” Kurt asked.

“Well, mostly.” Elliot admitted. “Especially like the prep school type and not the catholic or religious school type.”

“Oh God. I never even thought about that option.” Kurt said. “Hopefully my dad never did either. At that point of my life I would not have been able to cope. I would have run away or killed myself. I could NOT have done a religious school and my dad would not have been aware of that at that point because we had not yet discussed what had gone on while he was in a coma after his heart attack.”

“Wait, I thought you were at Dalton due to bullying?” David asked as they entered into the kitchen.

“I was. The bullying changed during the summer…or near the end of the school year before, because they were some instances even then. Anyway, so instead of dumpster tosses, probably because I was too tall for them to be easy…I started being pushed more and pushed harder. Of course the slushies never stopped. Then my dad had a heart attack right after Labor Day. And that same week the glee club went off on a religious rampage and spent most of the next little while telling me I was horrid and wrong for not believing in God…and no one DID anything to help. I stayed at home, with no one there, made all my own food and did all the chores, took over work at the garage so the others wouldn’t be too overwhelmed, went to school and did all my homework, and was the only one who really spent any time at the hospital…and was still bullied by the regular bullies every day. And the stupid glee club just harped on and on about praying fixing things and god fixing things…like prayer or god was going to make sure the paychecks got out on time or finish the rebuild on Martin Lewis’s 68 convertible that Dad was almost done with or fix dinner or do the dishes or patch up the gash where I caught the open locker while falling after Nelson pushed me, let alone be what actually helped with my dad. Although I ended up at my friend Mercedes church, mostly so she would stop ignoring me and so people would stop telling me I wasn’t trying to work with them all, I came out of the whole experience even more jaded against religion than I started. And in the weeks after my dad waking up, when I was the one caring for him all afternoon and evening and still keeping everything else going, the in school bullying shot up significantly, with Finn and others in glee club adding to it even though theirs wasn’t physical mostly. And at home wasn’t better. Finn and Carole had dad’s ears then, even though they spent like NO TIME at the house helping out. Everything exploded that first week of November and the death threats started and my dad found out about some of it and I ended up at Dalton when the guy threatening me didn’t stay expelled. I even was able to board for that first bit of time I was at Dalton, which ended up a godsend because My dad had just married Carole and so Finn moved in again but they hadn’t found a new house yet, so Finn and I were supposed to share a room but Finn couldn’t handle it any better than the first time we tried. With me in Dalton, Carole was able to get dad to have me just come home during Thanksgiving and Winter Break and stay at the dorms most the rest of the weekends. We couldn’t afford boarding after the semester started again though, so I drove to Dalton every day. But by then we had moved so Finn and I didn’t have to share. Heck, our rooms weren’t even on the same level of the house. Why is everyone staring at me?”

Jeff wrapped an arm around Kurt. “We just didn’t realize everything you had going on. I mean Wes and David knew a little about the bullying and I knew after that first PE class that the bullying had had a physical side because you were still all bruised. But I don’t think anyone knew about all the rest.”

“In fact Blaine insisted it wasn’t really physical at all, but a sexual assault that you were getting away from. That was why he wouldn’t let certain guys near you.” Nick said.

Kurt tilted his head. “Hmm, I guess the inciting incident was. One of the Jock bullies kissed me after pushing me, and then he threatened to kill me if I told anyone.”

Elliot wrapped Kurt in a hug and squeezed.

“Elliot, I need to breathe.” Kurt squeaked.

“Sorry, can’t let go.”

“I’m fine now. In fact, most everything surrounding that time is OK. Things were hashed out in the family, with the main bully, even within glee club to a certain extent. I just still am not big on religion. Didn’t gain any more liking for it when my dad had cancer, or when Finn died, or when I was bashed. Nor did it call for me when Blaine cheated the first time or at any point when living with Rachel. In fact, Rachel sort of put me off Judaism as well as Christianity. Elliot, don’t squeeze harder.”

A deep chuckling came from behind the guys.

“So YOU are the one missing?” Richards asked.

Kurt detangled himself from Elliot’s arms. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think at all about the situation this would put you. I just could not be around a certain someone without losing it. I should have at least like….told you what I was planning or something, though. I mean it’s like the first rule of going out someplace….let someone know where you are and when you should be back and how to be contacted. Like, seriously. I could have left a note or something. So I am so sorry and I promise if you don’t make me stay up here, I’ll take you out and show you where I’m camped and you can even check for yourself that it is safe and fine and whatnot.”

“You left the hotdogs and ground beef?” Richards asked.

“Yes, but I swiped some stuff in exchange.” Kurt said.

“You came in for breakfast and washed your dishes and left them in the drainer?”

“Yes. Except this morning.”

“Yes, you probably should have left a note, but how old are you?” Richards asked.

“20, almost 21.”

“So in your third year of university?”

“Second, I was held back in elementary the year my mom died, I missed too much school and my dad wasn’t willing to fight the decision.”

“Still…you are an adult. The only reason you needed to let anyone know was because you were at someone else’s place and there could have been issues if something was really wrong. But, I understand. I still don’t understand where you got the camping gear. We don’t have any here.”

“I thought we were going camping. I was put in charge of all the stuff and he said he’d set up the place. MY version of camping has a tent…I came with the camping gear. The version these guys run off is NUTS, no offence.” Kurt said.

Richards chuckled. “I would like to see everyone up at the house at least once a day…just write a note to let me know you stopped by.”

Kurt nodded. “So I can stay out at the camp? It is in that little clearing about 10 minutes out.”

Richards nodded. “It is still inside the property so I don’t think there will be a problem. However if you were out in a tent, I need to figure out who has been holed away up in the loft in the pool house. I thought that was you.”

“Oh, I know that one!” Jeff said. “Caleb Andrews. He came out with Felix but needed to finish some papers before he could have fun. Nick told him about the loft Friday night after he kept getting interrupted in the library. He was out with us for most the time Saturday, at least.”

“So are we good?” Elliot asked. “Because I need to find some beat boxers.”

Richards nodded. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour; it would be nice to be here for it so everyone can see you are found.”

Kurt nodded. “Let’s go find you some beat boxers. And go see Conner. And who the hell is Felix!”

David yelped. “I’ve got to introduce you to Felix!”

Kurt waved as he was drug through the kitchen deeper into the house. He settled next to Conner on the couch and told Conner all about his set up in the woods, which he and Jake wanted to see, as soon as Conner could stand without feeling sick. He brushed of Kurt’s worry, mostly because he assured Kurt he had been to the ER nearby and they assured him that he’d be fine in a day or two.

David and a boy who looked very much his double came barreling in from one side of the room while Elliot and several guys came chasing in with Jeff and Nick from the other.

“I’ve got Felix!” shouted David at the same time as Jeff shouted “We got beat boxers!”

“Ok. First, Felix.” Kurt said.

David smirked at the other guys and pulled his double next to him. “Kurt, this is Felix. He’s my little brother and he went to Dalton with us, but he was in Europe on an exchange program for the whole time you were at Dalton, which wasn’t fair! He’d have been in your grade!”

“Felix, nice to meet you. Were you a Warbler?” Kurt asked.

“I do not sing. I like acting, though. I participated in academic decathlon and debate and speech competitions. And BPA and the young astronauts program.”

“Oh, I wish you had been there when I was then, I know you could have helped with some of my classes that I had issues in. I was generally behind in sciences, mostly because McKinley doesn’t teach science well, at all. I think I ended up talking to David and Trent.”

“He was good once he understood what concepts he was missing and we liked helping Kurt because he caught on quick and never wanted us to DO the work for him, just explain what he was getting wrong.” David said.

Felix smiled. “I would have been glad to help you then. I am not fond of helping some people. They think helping means doing it for them. I do not approve.”

Kurt nodded. “My step brother was that way. Nearly cause World War III at our house when that issue came up. He thought it unfair that I wouldn’t do his work for him.”

Before the conversation could go farther, another guy came chasing into the room.

Kurt recognized him from the night he spied on David.

“Kurt Hummel?” the guy asked, his hand extended for a handshake. “I’m Ravi, Ravi Patil. I am a huge fan of your father’s. I saw him speak once. He was brilliant, so down to earth.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Kurt said, shaking Ravi’s hand. “I do rather adore him. OH! I had better call him and tell him I’m found!”

Kurt pulled out his phone and dialed his dad.

The call wasn’t long but long enough for Kurt to wish he’d done it while alone. He thought Ravi was going to melt into a puddle of awe struck goo when his dad said to tell him hello and his was thrilled the young man had enjoyed his speech.

Luckily Jeff and Nick thought it was as funny as Kurt did. Elliot was confused and then swatted Kurt upside the head.

“You could have mentioned your dad was a congressman.” Elliot said.

“I’ve told you about my dad.” Kurt insisted.

“Yeah, he owns and runs a garage in Lima, Ohio and is often away from home.” Elliot said. “He likes Melencamp and wears ball caps. And he was one of your biggest supporters in school, but you often didn’t let him know what was going on.”

“Oh….umm sorry. I just don’t often remember it myself. I mean, he didn’t start doing a whole lot in Washington until January my senior year and so sometimes I forget.” Kurt said. “I just think of him at home in Lima.”

“That makes sense.” One of the guys Kurt wasn’t sure he knew said. “My folks travel a lot and I usually only think of them at the home I grew up in, even though they are rarely there anymore. Jonas, beatboxer. Who wanted us?”

“Elliot wants to try out some songs.” Kurt said.

“Beatles. Come Together.” Elliot said. “To start with.”

“Oh. Yes.” Jonas said. “Paul, do you have the Beatles version on your iPod?”

“Of Course.” Paul answered. “That will be easy, too.”

“Kurt, front man or background vocals?” Elliot asked.

“Backing in this. I know it. Go work up the vocals needed and then come get me when you need to add me.” Kurt said. “I’m going to chat with some of the others for a bit. I would like to try Hey Jude or Imagine though.”

“And we should totally have a reshow of Blackbird.” Jeff said.

“I’ll consider it.” Kurt said. “I am on the edge of that being one of those ruined songs. It was well done though, so…”

“Take that one back.” Nick said. “You sang it stunningly. Don’t let Blaine lay claim to that.”

Kurt smiled. “Fine. I’ll sing Blackbird as well, and decide then.”

Elliot and about eight guys huddled in a corner of the music room, by the piano, and worked out music. Kurt could tell by the excited look on Elliot’s face that he was learning a lot from several of the guys.

Kurt talked with Conner and Jake, David and Felix and Ravi. Nick and Jeff wandered between the two groups, depending on what topics were being talked about in the group of boys surrounding Kurt. Other guys wandered in and joined with the two groups. Kurt said hi to Braydon and met several others who he recognized from classes but never really interacted with. They were talking clubs and sports differences in public and private school systems when Wes wandered in, followed by Blaine and his stooges. Blaine, whose hand was encased in Edwin’s and who had bite marks covering his neck, was giggling and simpering as Ricky whispered something in his ear.

“I thought you all were out looking for Kurt.” Wes said, glaring at David. Kurt nearly laughed as Wes’s gaze passed right over him, like he’d forgotten how Kurt looked.

Kurt snorted. “I’ve been located, Wes. I was camping.”

“Camping? Were you in the loft? I haven’t seen you out in the hot tubs?” Wes said.

“Camping. You know…tent, sleeping bag, communing with nature? Hikes?” Kurt said.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Blaine said, looking at Kurt for the first time since entering the room. “What would YOU know about any of that?”

Conner growled. Kurt put his hand on his knee and Jake put his arm around him. David kicked back, as if waiting for a show.

Kurt turned his attention from Wes to Blaine. He noted the hickeys on Blaine’s neck, he noted Ricky’s hands still on Blaine’s shoulder and Blaine’s hand still in Edwin’s, with his fingers running over the back of Edwin’s hand.

“Blaine, how wonderful to see you…fully dressed and not in a compromising position, unlike last time I laid eyes on you for any length of time.” Kurt said with a sneer, that Blaine didn’t even seem to notice. “Why do you question what I know of camping? I’m sure you remember my father. You know, the man that is supposed to be your future father-in-law. The guy you asked for my hand in marriage like I was some sort of simpering princess. That guy. You spent a great deal of time at my house hanging with the guys, even after I’d gone to New York. I figure you know him rather well. Do you really think he didn’t take me camping and hunting and fishing every chance he got? I mean, sure…I worked full time at the garage most of high school, so he didn’t get me out as often as he would have liked, but you have got to be delusional if you think he didn’t take me out at least once or twice a year.”

“You worked at the garage doing like…secretary stuff.” Blaine said.

Kurt rolled his eyes.

“How do you figure?” Kurt said.

“Well, I know you SAID you worked on the cars there, but I never saw you working on cars there and you aren’t exactly…built to work on cars, you are more – you know…and whenever I saw you at the garage you were answering the phone and dressed nicely. What was I supposed to think?” Blaine said.

“You picked me up from work exactly twice, Blaine. Twice in the whole time we’ve known each other. You’ve been to the garage another three, maybe four times. Once to tell my dad I had no idea about Sex…before you started dating me…after you basically told me I was unsexy and you had no interest. Which was very creepy mind you and which wasn’t even really true. I probably knew more about SEX than you did at that point…just mine was more of the boy/girl nature and more of the book learning aspect and more of the view of sex from listening to girls…so lots about menstrual cycles and sore boobs and stretch marks and things like that. Then you didn’t bother coming to the garage again until AFTER I had graduated. Hanging with Finn and Sam was just peachy. And then you went to ask my dad my hand in marriage. Even after you went to McKinley for school, you couldn’t ever be bothered to come to work with me and hang out or anything, so we saw each other AFTER I was done and had gone home and showered and changed. I guess I expected you to take my word for it when I told you I worked at the garage. How would you actually KNOW anything? I certainly didn’t get receptionist pay, which you enjoyed the fruits of more often than not. I mean when it came to paying for dates and things, I certainly generally took the provider role even though I wasn’t the one from an ‘extremely wealthy’ family ---your words, not mine---with a never ending allowance. Therefore, I never expected that you thought I was LYING to you the whole time. It is utterly insane for one to assume someone is LYING about their job. Unless of course, that someone spends so much time himself lying that he assumes everyone else lies all the time…just like him. What kinds of lies did you tell me, Blaine? What lies have you told me that everything I know is based off of?”

Blaine just glared at Kurt and crossed his arms over his chest. Kurt stood and walked towards Blaine and his pals.

“Shall we start with the big one right now, Blaine? Why are we here at Wes’s place?” Kurt said.

At first Kurt wasn’t sure Blaine was going to answer. Edwin whispered something in his ear and the Ricky leaned in and whispered something in his other ear.

“Because I wanted to come and I knew you would be awful if I just headed out for dead week without you.” Blaine said. “You would have said no just to spite me if I’d wanted to come on my own. And the formal invite was to both of us since David sent them out.”

“See, the truth wasn’t so hard there was it. Might have been nice to tell it to me before I spent the money I did for this week, but I’m sure you’ll find it in your oh so truthful heart to pay me back at least half, if not more.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kurt.” Blaine said.

“I’m not kidding.” Kurt said.

Blaine rolled his eyes. “We’ll discuss this later at home. You’ll see my point after we discuss it there.”

“You mean, I’ll drop the topic after you’ve screamed at me for hours on end just so I don’t have to hear you hollering any longer? My dad already agreed you need to pay back at least half the money I put out due to lack of communication, so it is not going away as easy as you generally manage to make issues disappear.” Kurt said. “However, I guess we could discuss it at home. Paying me back for what I put into a trip that you lied about will work in nicely with other topics, I’m sure. Of course, I suggest we do so after you’ve done your school work that you have been slacking off on and maybe even after finals. I would hate for you to actually flunk out because you chose to go camping instead of do your work…or rather I’d hate for you to blame me for your failure when you decided to choose camping over school work. And I will make sure your professors know what you have been up to this week, make no mistake about that.”

“I can’t believe you are being so mean to Blaine! What has he ever done to you?” Chaz sneered.

Jeff and Nick snorted as David held Conner down.

It was Elliot who laughed though. “Are you kidding me?”

“And just who are you?” Ricky asked, turning towards Elliot.

“God’s sakes, why are YOU here? Kurt, are you cheating on me? Did you sneak HIM here to have sex with him behind my back? How dare you? I KNEW you were cheating on me with him. I knew it. I didn’t for one moment believe he was just a friend and band mate. How long have you been having sex with him, huh? I can’t believe you would do this to me!” Blaine started hollering.

“Has anyone ever had you tested for personality disorders?” Elliot shouted back. “You are delusional and a hypocrite.”

“I am not! I know you’ve fucked him. I know it. You wouldn’t accept my friend request on Facebook or any other social site and you were always calling. I can’t figure out why you want him more than me, but I know you’ve had sex with him and he is cheating with you.” Blaine continued. “And I’m NOT a hypocrite. I’m not wearing the ring; he is, so that makes him mine. I can do whatever I like, he cannot. I asked for HIS hand in marriage, he didn’t ask for mine. I’m the alpha male and so I can sow my seed.”

“You’re an idiot is what you are.” Elliot said. “A hypocrite and an Idiot. And delusional and an ass.”

“Blaine, I suggest you stop speaking before you further prove just how stupid you can be.” Kurt said. “And frankly, everyone here knows which of the two of us has been having sex this week so far…you haven’t taken any care to hide the proof.”

“But I can have sex.” Blaine said.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Men in this room, how many are Gay or Bisexual, or any other identity on the spectrum?”

About half the room raised their hands and Kurt started to cough.

“You Ok there?” Elliot asked.

“Maybe Dalton was a gay school and I just never knew.” Kurt said.

David started to laugh.

“Anyway…” Kurt continued. “IF you are in a monogamous relationship, is it perfectly all right for your other half to have sex with other people?”

Most of those who had raised their hands shouted no.

“Straight men, if you are in a monogamous relationship with a girl….say engaged…is it all right to have sex with other people?”

Most of the straight guys said no.

“Those of you who did not say no to that…IF I asked your GIRLFRINDS the question would they say it was all right for you…the guy…to have sex with others while in a monogamous relationship?”

Only two tried to insist that their girls understood that men must be men and have sex with anyone their nether regions wanted. Kurt asked for numbers of their girlfriends to ask. Neither still had a girlfriend.

“There you go, Blaine.” Kurt said. “The majority of the people here KNOW YOU ARE WRONG. Not that it really matters. Do you know WHY it doesn’t really matter? Because I, the other half of this supposedly monogamous relationship, think you are WRONG!”

“So?” Blaine said.

The majority of the others in the room looked at Blaine in confusion.

“So? So I think that BOTH people in a relationship that is monogamous only see each other…that is what monogamous means. That means when one of those is NOT just seeing the other in the relationship, he is CHEATING. I told you when I took you back…I would not be cheated on. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass if YOU don’t think you are cheating for whatever STUPID rationality you have concocted…I think you are cheating and I am THE ONLY ONE who matters in that. I will not live in a world of double standards, Blaine.”

“Now, Kurt,” Blaine started, in a tone of voice that instantly grated on Kurt’s nerves even more. It was that condescending tone Blaine used when he thought Kurt was too naive or too poor to understand.

“We’ll speak of it at home.” Kurt said. “My dad might even join us. For now…I do believe Elliot has managed to work something out with his beatboxes. You are boring me, Blaine. You should go find something to do away from the rest of us….like you have all week, I’m sure.”

With that Kurt turned and stalked over to the piano. “Play me my part, boys.”

Paul smirked and started playing the notes he wanted Kurt to take on “come together”. Most the guys who’d been sitting with Conner and Kurt by the couches moved over to the piano as well, Jake dragging an armchair over for Conner to sit in. Blaine just stared. No one was paying any attention to him, or Chaz or Ricky or Edwin…or even Wes. Kurt smirked as Edwin and then Ricky whispered into Blaine’s ear again and Chaz pulled them all out to the hot tubs, Blaine frowning the whole way.

“I still don’t know who He is.” Wes stated, pointing at Elliot.

Kurt paused in his vocals. “Elliot Gilbert, my bandmate and friend. Apparently there are people out there that care about me, Wes. So when he read the Facebook blow-up, he contacted Jeff and Nick and came out to help locate me…as in as soon as he read the Facebook blow–up he made efforts to come find me…he didn’t fuss about and ignore that I was ‘missing’. Your…nonchalant…manner of dealing with a missing person is, I hope, because it happens often enough with positive results that it wasn’t a real issue. I shall have to ask Richards about that.”

Wes paled. “I’ve got…things…to do.” Wes said as he turned and headed towards the kitchens and Richards.

Kurt smirked and turned his attention back to singing.

They hadn’t got far in putting together the song before dinner was announced.

It was a much different experience than the first night, when Kurt felt like no one noticed him. All sorts of people came up to him and spoke to him. He met the guys who’d taken out the motorbikes after he’d gone for his ride; he met several of Ravi’s friends, who spoke with him about his dad and politics. He met a few of the older Warblers, who had been working with Elliot on the songs right before dinner.

It wasn’t like Blaine was alone…he had his little harem and a small posse of pals who gathered around them like moths to a flame. But Kurt was included in a group as well, and comments from said group made Kurt wonder how much of his being left alone at first was at Blaine’s suggestion. He’d heard more than one person say they’d hoped to talk to him but that Blaine had told them Kurt would prefer they not.

After dinner they went and worked on the songs Elliot wanted to try, getting ‘Come Together’ to a level that Conner recorded it for Elliot. Then Jeff and Nick talked Kurt into doing Blackbird for them. Like Kurt had predicted, more guys than they started with moved into the music room to participate. Kurt could see about nine guys out in the hot tubs, where Blaine and his group were holding court, but the majority of guys were in with Kurt. Several of the guys who’d sung with Ravi and the older Warblers showed off some of the songs they’d done in the days…and won with. Kurt was especially fond of the medley of John Denver songs they did and their ‘Ring of Fire’ arrangement.

When it started to get dark, Kurt and Elliot headed back to the camp. Jeff and Nick and Conner and Jake were to spend the next day at the Kurt’s campsite…or at least part of it. Elliot grabbed the knapsack of clothes from Jeff’s car as they headed out.

They chatted on the small hike back to the camp. Kurt pulled out sodas to drink and they retired directly to the tent.

“You’ll have to share the mattress.” Kurt said. “But you can have your own sleeping bag. I’m changing, I hope you don’t mind. I have extra blankets in the corner if you need some; it is still a bit chilly at night. I haven’t been cold, but I bought extra thick fleece pajamas.”

“Can I brag to one and all tomorrow that I got to sleep with you?” Elliot asked. “I’ll be fine; I packed what I have been wearing at night at the retreat.”

Kurt shrugged.

“Kurt?”

“I was hoping to wait to actually break-up with Blaine until after finals….I know he is going to fail and blame it all on me as it is. With a break-up added to that? I’ll be lucky if they don’t toss me out on me ear…for making the poor darling so stressed and broken hearted he couldn’t do his work. And the teachers will buy it….they always do for him and Rachel.”

“You are forgetting something.” Elliot said. He made sure to hunt around his bag while Kurt changed his pants. “There is a whole day of you being lost broadcast all over social media and a whole day of Blaine not caring being broadcast just as loudly. There are three dozen guys here who will mostly vouch for the activities that Blaine did here…while you were lost. And also probably about how NOT heartbroken the brat is. I’ll come with you and talk to the powers that be if need be. You know I will.”

“And yet, somehow I doubt it would make a difference.” Kurt said.

“Then make it make a difference. Is it everyone who seems under their spell, or just certain people? Go to other department heads if you need to. Had Rachel charmed them all? Are those under Blaine’s spell also those under who had been under Rachel’s? Or did he do his own schmoozing?” Elliot asked.

Kurt tilted his head as he thought. “You know…I don’t think she had. She rather alienated the dean who oversees the drama classes…and who overseas most the non-practical courses like script analyses. She’s upset most the staff who teach on the tech side of the program and all the staff who deal with dance…all the staff, not just the instructors. She was rude to most the other vocal professors. Blaine is harder to gauge…there are people who praise and adore him who don’t seem to have ever met him or know much more about him than he has to be wonderful because he is in sophomore classes. Or maybe his folks put sooo much money into getting him in the classes he is in that they are enamored with that. I don’t know how to prepare for that.”

“His folks gave money to the school to ensure his class choices?” Elliot asked, pulling out his pants and sleeping shirt now that Kurt was mostly changed.

Kurt shrugged and turned around to pull out the small speakers for his IPod so they could listen to music and Elliot could change pants. “His first semester he was in regular first year freshman classes and he just did OK…there were no As…but he passed the things he took with Bs and Cs. He was like Rachel, though…he took voice and a private voice section, acting, dance and a lecture course on auditioning for different formats that he wasn’t supposed to be able to take but his brother knew the guest lecturer and got him into that one. He carried just enough credits to be full time. He dropped dance with Ms. July and changed into a lower level course within the first week taught by someone else…which he also skipped about ¼ of. He skipped out on his acting course half the time. Then second semester starts up and he is in 6 of my 8 classes….all 6 of his classes are with me. My classes are sophomore level…I spent the time attending everything I needed to move ahead with the amount of credits needed to be a sophomore. He hadn’t even taken any of the first year of script analysis, or English 101, which were supposed to be the prerequisites for script writing. He hadn’t taken the dance courses or the movement course which was supposed to be needed to take stage combat. The same for everything. I asked how he was in my classes. His first response was that he was just so good all his teachers recommended he skip ahead. Then I said I was going to ask around to see which teachers said that. He huffed and puffed and whined before saying that he just signed up and then pull strings to stay. It was during a chat with Rachel I learned his dad was donating several good sized scholarships for the years he was in the school and that his mom was donating to help fund some instrument updates so he could have the best for accompanying his star performances. I simply concluded that was how he got himself into classes he wasn’t suited or prepared for.”

“Please tell me you are kidding? That is absolutely horrible.”

“I only wish I were. And I suppose I could be wrong, but it is the only explanation that makes any sense…well, there is the people are hypnotized by his puppy dog eyes and hair gel theory, but generally I only indulge in that one when I am a bit tipsy on cough syrup and pain meds and still running a high fever…or concussed.” Kurt said.

Elliot snorted and tucked the clothing he’d changed out off into his knapsack, making sure he’d pulled out the thick socks he’d packed when he saw Kurt pull out his own. He handed Kurt the knapsack and Kurt passed it off to the side of the tent where his own was resting. He flopped back onto the air mattress. Kurt settled beside him.

“This is ridiculously comfortable for an air mattress.” Elliot said.

Kurt blushed. “I didn’t want Sam to be uncomfortable. My dad would have been upset. He sees Sam as one of us most the time.”

“Do you ever wish to see what would happen if you had that kind of money to pour into things?” Elliot asked, staring at the top of the tent.

“No.” Kurt answered. “I decided once I started school that I wanted to gather as much experience as possible. I never want a lack of knowledge or experience on my part to be the reason a production has issues. I didn’t get the parts that Blaine and Rachel always did. I didn’t get the summer jobs performing, or the summer voice lessons or fancier dance classes outside Lima, which both had even if they didn’t take as much advantage of what they were given as they could. I have time and learning to catch up on.”

Elliot snorted. “Why is it always the ones who had everything who never appreciate it?”

Kurt smiled. “I don’t know, but seriously…there is one huge thing I learned at Dalton; Appreciate the things you have and don’t go looking for something better all the time. At first I was jealous of all those kids and their never ending cash, but then I realized that half couldn’t even make themselves a sandwich…let alone wash their clothing or fix their car or bike. Lose a button? Toss the shirt out and go buy a new one. However fine that was for a uniform shirt, I watched so many boys whine or get into a rage over loosing favorites because they lost a button. Drop paint on your shoe? Write home for a new pair to be sent and some extra cash for emotional turmoil, while whining that now you have to break in new shoes and your favorites are ruined forever and can’t be worn. Miss lunch due to a meeting with a teacher? Even with options of an open kitchen for student use after lunch was over and each dorm having a stocked kitchen, half of them would starve instead because they had no clue how to even find a snack. Not all of them were that bad, but most were close. Our uniform shirts were 60 bucks, due to being so well made and tailored, supposedly. I actually made a killing off kids who would lose a button, bring their shirt to me to mend for 30 bucks, while writing home them needed money to buy a new shirt. Their parents would send the money and they’d pocket the remainder for sneaking out clubbing or some other dumb thing. I charged twenty to make grilled cheese, 10 for peanut butter and anything and 10 for meat sandwiches. I charged three to peel oranges. Often I made 60 bucks a day from just peeling oranges throughout the day. On the other hand…I realized that if needed, I could survive on my own even then. I had the life skills needed, and had work experience that would have allowed me to be fine, even if I wasn’t happy. I could have had full time work as a mechanic with little problem.”

Elliot laughed. “Did any of them ever realize how much you were overcharging them?”

Kurt smirked. “The few who did were so desperate that they paid anyway. I am hoping most of them NOW realize it, due to the fact they are all supposedly adults living in adult worlds. It sounded like most the boys up at the house were managing Ok.”

Elliot laughed. “I suppose so. What are you going to do about things?”

“I’m going to enjoy the rest of the time here with the guys…and take you out on those dirt bikes with me tomorrow. I am going to then go home and study and take my finals and finish presentations and whatnot next week. I am going to call my dad and have him help get back half the money I spent for this week from Blaine…and the rent and other expenses Blaine is supposed to be helping with but really hasn’t. It’s only been a month since Rachel moved out and he moved in, so the expenses aren’t insurmountable if he doesn’t manage to get Blaine to pay up, but I’m going to try. I am going to inform Blaine he has a month to be gone from the loft. I am going to have Chase come in with his buddy and help me create a spate space for someone else to live with me and find a roommate. Not sure where I’m going from there…I’ll tell you after finals.”

Elliot reached over and grasped Kurt’s hand. “I’ll keep you to it…and to your immediate plans. Do you think you can make it through the next week?”

Kurt nodded. “As long as I focus on finals, yeah.”

“I can be done by next Friday, even with taking from now until Monday off. So I can be around when you need backup when moving Blaine out or going to the school about his complaints if they happen. Dani said she’d return next week if you need her. She got a bit extra in a paycheck and they don’t compete until next weekend after Sunday…she could use it to fly home and be there for you after Sunday.”

“No. I’ll be good. I would feel so guilty if she used that money to fly to New York just because my world can’t stay stable for any length of time.” Kurt said.

“Yes, well….we both still feel guilty for not being around when you got bashed earlier this year.” Elliot said.

“I am sorry you didn’t know about it until weeks after. Rachel and Blaine suck at telling people anything…My dad wouldn’t even have known if the hospital hadn’t called him, and he was the one to call the school. Both were asked about me, but both just said I ‘was indisposed’ and couldn’t make it to classes. They never even turned in the notes I made for them to take. If I hadn’t needed to reassure myself I could still present my performance assignment, I have no doubts I wouldn’t have any misses excused because my dad wouldn’t have called and got the doctors to talk to the teachers. I should have tossed Blaine’s sorry ass to the side then. I still wouldn’t have gotten to do my performance if I hadn’t gotten out of the hospital the day before the last day of performances and my dad hadn’t marched into the school and demanded to see the written policy on medical emergencies and then taken it straight to Madame T. He gave her a lovely lecture on not holding me responsible for Blaine’s behavior, which she forgot she heard before he’d even headed back to Washington DC.”

“I am not joking, Kurt. I want you to promise to go speak with the other deans and discuss Blaine and Rachel and Madame T’s response to them and you. I swear you should transfer somewhere else.”

Kurt chuckled “I have thought about it. But…I got into NYADA and I don’t want to quit because of Rachel or Blaine. I don’t want to give either the satisfaction. And they would both be quick to rub it in and make sure everyone we ever met knew I had failed…I had quit.”

“Then get the help to make it through that school that you need. This past semester has been ridiculous.”

“To be fair, the June issue is mostly my fault. I caved to Blaine’s need to be the focus of all around him and it was my apology for making him feel badly about himself.”

“It wouldn’t have been an issue if the lady had any taste. Blaine was outlandish and annoying the whole song…and it wasn’t even a good performance because he was not working as a group with anyone. He over sang and over acted everything. And before you say anything the whole performance was posted to blogs…so yes I saw it. AND people there said the video didn’t even do justice to Blaine’s over done attitude. As to the apology bit, I still don’t see anything YOU needed to apologize for. YOU didn’t make him eat all the fattening food he ate, YOU didn’t prevent him from exercising, I doubt YOU ever even told him no except for the time you were under doctor’s orders to not do anything too strenuous. ”

“I didn’t. In fact he was always telling me NO, even before I was bashed. You are right. What makes it worse is the choreography that I stuck with was Blaine’s idea and how we practiced it. He didn’t want me to ‘be too loud’ in my actions of motions and he wanted everything ‘subtle’ and yet ‘a bit comical’. I should have done what I wanted as soon as he started his own thing. Or just taken off with my original song counter to him and left him story of our lives to sing on his own.”

“What did you have planned?” Elliot asked.

“Outlaw of Love…or Let Me Entertain You.”

“I would have paid to see either.” Elliot said.

Kurt laughed. “I considered a full Glam For Your Entertainment, but I decided against that after Madame T nearly had a coronary when I came into school with nail polish still of after a spa afternoon with Isabella when I was recovering from the bashing. They weren’t even too out there…just deep blood red glitter with a high gloss shine. For the head of a theater school, she is very conservative. I think that is why the Apples had such a hard time…and some of the other kids. Kids that are her stars are those students that are great but also completely ‘normal’…the ones who would be leads without anything about them standing out in any way that could be negative. I heard the Dean of Tech yell at her once that NYADA was a school for the arts, the kids were supposed to feel free to be artsy.”

Elliot snorted. “I heard the other vocal teachers actually put out students who have higher hiring rates.”

“Master Franko does. I finally looked those stats up. Madame T has pushed out more ‘stars’ from her classes, but Master Franko teaches students who are hired consistently. And has had a fair amount of stars come out of his classroom as well. I am taking courses from him this summer and next fall. I haven’t looked into the other two yet.”

“You should take courses from those as well. I seriously think that if given the option one should take courses from as many different teachers as one can. I mean, yes…classes from the head of the costume department at NYU were fantastic, but when I took construction techniques from Martin Mayers, who worked with the museum as well as working as one of the head costumers for NYU shows, I learned so much more. Not because he was better, but because his focus wasn’t exactly the same and so he had a different perspective.”

“There was a class that was on writing music that I thought about taking…it dealt not only with creating original works but also transposing songs into different keys and mash-ups and legalities. I think I’ll fit that in next year somewhere. I did well enough in music theory to take it.”

“I think you be brilliant at it.” Elliot said. “Well get you through this, Kurt. I think you’ll find so many more doors opening up once we’ve got this door with Blaine nailed shut. I think you’ll find so many people just waiting to pounce in and take up space in your life as so as they knew they can…friends and lovers.”

Kurt squeezed Elliot’s hand. Images of Jeff and Nick and Conner and Jake and David flitted through his head. They were chased by thoughts of Adam and his Apples, the guys from stage combat, and other in different classes who always were friendly but seem to hold back…and look around as if to see who was about. Then Chase and Sal’s laughs passed through his mind. Kurt looked at Elliot’s smiling face and thought of what he had said about Dani…and about the other from the band.

“I think you might just be right. We should turn off the lantern and watch a movie before trying to get some sleep. I have got to take you out on those dirt bikes. I think you will love it. I am so kicking myself for telling my dad I didn’t want one when I was little.”

“Your dad offered you a dirt bike? I thought you just meant lessons or something.” Elliot asked.

Kurt laughed.

“I was entering JR. High and didn’t want to give into what I saw as pressure to be ‘normal’ and ‘fit in’ and be just like all the other rude horrid boys I knew. And as much as I had enjoyed riding a 4wheeler the summer before, I wasn’t absolutely gaga over it, so I didn’t figure a dirt bike would live up to the hype my Father was giving it. I’m pretty certain he wanted me to race them.”

Elliot laughed as well. “Blow that candle out, then.”

Kurt’s breath caught before he turned and turned off the light.

“Blow the candles out, looks like a solo tonight,” Kurt sang softly as he pulled open the laptop. “But I think I’ll be all right.”

#glee fanfic #Kurt Hummel #elliot gilbert #warblers

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