Revolved

Chapter One: Metal Frames from Hell

Kurt Hummel x Noah Puckerman x Rachel Berry

Rated T for mature situations.

I love Reviews. Being as this is my first FanFic, I would appreciate constructed criticism, and love. :P

I don't own Glee, or any character. Only my poor writing abilities.

You never know how strong you are…until being strong is the only choice you have.

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You know that cold and empty feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you're extraordinarily scared? Not for yourself, but for someone else?

Well, I guess I'm getting a little ahead of myself. How about starting at the beginning:

I remember it being cold for August, the icy wind biting my exposed skin. We had taken Puck's beat up old truck. My dad had run short of a few things for dinner tonight, so he asked me and Puck to grab them for tonight.

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"Do you have the list?" he asked, nervously playing with the hem of his shirt. And that wasn't anything Kurt Hummel did lightly. But in the presence of one Mr. Puckerman, it was all he could do to keep his voice from shaking with anticipation.

"I don't need the list."

He smirked and rolled his eyes, looking out the window at the rain that pounded against the red paint with frantic pitter-patters. "Pa-lease. You can hardly remember the day of the week!"

"We're having a BBQ. Ketchup, Mustard, hot dog buns, Smokies…"

"Okay. You're right. You can probably remember everything. Maybe." Don't worry; he knew how it sounded, a BBQ, in the rain. Well, that was Finn and his fathers job; setting up the tarp that was supposed to keep them dry. He really doubted that it would work, but he would be a team player and go along with it.

Of course they had bugged him for saying this, because even on the football team, he wasn't much of a team player. In Glee, it seemed, to anyone who didn't know him, that he was only interested in the solo's that were rightfully his.

"Kurt?"

He looked back to his friend, smiling, "Yes?"

Green-Blue eyes met deep chocolaty, lust filled ogles and Kurt felt moisture leap to the delicate skin of his palms. He past a quick lick of nervous lips, and eyes darted down to follow the tongue. Sneaking kisses. Who knew? Noah Puckerman: Closeted Homo. Well, technically, Bi…homo?

"N-never mind." He smiled and turned back to look out side. He, Kurt Hummel was making Puck nervous. Stuttering Tina-like nervous. How precious!

The truck eased to a stop, and they simultaneously threw open the doors and slid into the cold water. Meeting at the hood of the truck, Puck placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him slightly ahead of the Jewish teen, as if to shelter him from the pounding rain.

"Whoa. It's like, deserted in here!" Puck commented, scanning the store quickly. There were only five people on the floor, dripping through the aisles and filling up carts with bags of goodies for the planned rain in the days to come.

Smiling, Kurt headed over to the line of carts and pulled one out, quickly rounding it to face the first aisle. They walked in silence, Puck's warmth just center of the row filling Kurt with a deep blush, humming slightly under his breath and using a hand to adjust the ball cap in his back pocket. Something working in the garage required.

Stopping to look over the products, he stepped away from the cart, tipping his head to the side, pondering. Whole-wheat? Or white? Snorting, he pulled out the bag of white buns, like his family would eat anything partially healthy.

"White? I was going to go with the grain-y one…" Puck whispered in his ear, placing a smile and a flutter throughout the small soprano.

"Rebecca! Jonathan! Come back!" an exhausted mother called out, sighing at the end and watching her two children skip down the aisle, chocolate bars in hand and filling the quiet with chiming giggles.

Kurt placed the buns into the cart and continued down section, glancing half-heartedly and the Twinkies. As if reading his mind, Puck pushed a muscular arm in front of Kurt's face, leaning over and allowed the teen to be engulfed in the manly mint smell and the moment of arms brushing as the Twinkies were placed in the crisscrossing metal of the cart.

Is this what it would feel like? Ten years from now? Grocery shopping for his family. Not having to talk because they knew what the other wanted, happily exchanging glances and brushes of skin. The giggling took months of his porcelain skin, filling Kurt with a child-like happiness he hadn't felt since his mother past away.

They turned the corner, nodding politely at the mother at the end of the store who was glowering at the still merry kids. Greeting a middle aged man with sharp, angular cheeks and rusty orange hair. Kurt was too caught up in his vision for the future to notice the haunted look in the darkened eyes.

That is, until jab in his side and a finger point in his vision. Kurt glanced around, finally locating their target. "Oh, I'm going to go invite her over!"

"Kurt."

"Will you get the other stuff for me?"

Puck wheeled the cart into the corner, between a wall of bread and a rake of cake, out of view from everyone. Well, all of the seven customers and two cashiers anyways. "Kurt, don't make me put up with her tonight. Please."

"Puck, she's dating my brother. I'm inviting her!"

Puck inched closer, pushing himself between Kurt and the cart, his breath tickling onto the pale cheek of his partner. "Kurt."

"Puck." Years of musical lessons-singing especially, kept his breath even and deep, even in this situation. Puck pouted and leaned down brushing his nose, fluttering his lashes. "No." Soft lips, but a quick withdraw. "You're petty kisses convince me." Kurt brushed by, sliding his shoulder across the shaped chest and back into the store. "Finish shopping, I'll go talk to that pretty young lady."

He flounced away, crossing through the sections and into the cooler area. It was cold inside the store for ten at night, but it was freezing in the frozen section. He clutched the Louis Vuitton coat closer to his small frame and pushed to the short brunette at the soy-cheese.

He trailed his fingers up her arm and smiled when she let out a shriek and spun to face him. "Hey beautiful!" Okay, he would emit it, calling Rachel *star* Berry that, was not, under any circumstances something he usually did. But he was caught up in the moment. And they had sort of become friends. She was the one person who about his and Noah's…relations. Having gay fathers gave her a great perspective.

"Kurt Hummel! What are you doing here?"

"Just shopping around," he casually reached down and plucked a block of cheese out of the empty cart, "Is this actually good?"

Rachel looked up from the box of organic crackers she was inspecting and sheepishly at the cheese, "Oh, they're an acquired taste, did you want to come over for dinner and try it?"

"Actually, that's why I'm over here."

"Oh? I'm sure my fathers would love you over."

"Actually, we having a barbeque, Tina and Artie are stopping by, I think Mikes coming, because Mercedes is. So I figure we might as well make sure Finn's not all alone in the couples' party."

"Oh! Well I was-"

Kurt watched as Rachel's thin lips moved and her tongue slid across her lips. As her hands grabbed onto his shoulders and she pulled them to the ground. They huddled together and shook from the interruption.

"Was that a-?"

"Gun shot? I think so," admitting it was hard, expectably as the lights winked out and the store became an echoing cave of despair. What scared Kurt the most was the scream of pain from a woman and the quiet of that, hollow thump from an unmoving body.

Kurt inched farther away from Rachel, squeezing her hand tighter for every centimeter that distanced between them.

From around the edge of the dented cooler, he took a millisecond to scan and back up again. Heart thumping to his throat and hands shaking with horror, he glanced back to the aisle.

A single lady, eyes open in horror and perfect circle of a bullet hole through the parted bangs. Kurt's quick eyes took in the scene, struggling to look past the empty pupils and the rapidly pooling blood to the shopping cart that was two feet away from the body, filled with buns and condiments.

He placed a fist to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles as his sad blue eyes found a box of Twinkies that had spilled over the edge of the cold metal, landing next to a dirty, red and white baseball cap. Without the light, he could just make out the black embroidery that snaked up the seams and the too familiar 20 that was etched into the back.

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