Sunflowers

Title: Sunflowers

Author: Jen

Rating: Teen

Notes: Written before 2.06 (Never Been Kissed) which means this story is blatantly (and sadly) disregarding Blaine's existence.

Kurt was nervous, and he could tell it was showing on his face. He tugged sporadically on the seatbelt crossing his shoulder, and tried not to look at his father at the wheel of the SUV. He'd resolved to be strong, and to not let his father worry, or at least any more than he clearly already was.

"The offer still stands, you know."

Kurt did look then, across to his father who was glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Kurt knew the look well, it was usually the one he personally mirrored right before reaching out and hugging his father. While the motion had tapered off over the years, especially as Kurt entered his teens, he wasn't ashamed to hug his father like he knew a lot of sons were at his age. In all honesty, his favorite place to be was in his father's secure hold. His father wasn't superman, but he was damn near incredible in Kurt's eyes.

"I can't," Kurt said softly. "Everyone else is flying." To New York, that was, to Regionals and a possible victory for the first time ever. Winning Sectionals again had been a huge boost of confidence, and as a whole, the glee club was determined not to have a repeat loss to Vocal Adrenaline. Kurt was daring to think that they had more than a good chance, considering their vast improvement from their last showing.

"Everyone else doesn't have a phobia."

It wasn't, per say, a phobia. It wasn't the flying he was scared of, it was the crashing.

Kurt pulled at the shoulder strap and caught sight of his luggage in the backseat. He'd be gone for almost a week, the longest he'd ever been away from his father in over ten years. He would have been thrilled with the prospect of running around New York City with his father's credit card in his pocket if he wasn't so busy being terrified of getting there.

"It's not a phobia," Kurt denied with a headshake. "Just an extreme, nausea inducing dislike. Plus, it's not as if I have a lot of options. I have to be there, and we already raised the money to buy the plane tickets. It would just go to waste if I didn't fly."

The airport came into sight and Kurt took a deep breath, thankful his father had offered to drive him and him alone, and let Carole bring Finn up separately. Maybe, instinctively, they both understood how much they needed the precious time together.

"My offer to drive you still stands. It wouldn't be that big of a deal, Kurt."

With a scoff, Kurt said, "Driving from Ohio to New York is a big deal. The plane ride is only a few hours, the drive would be several days."

"I would drive," his father offered, "and you could sleep. It's not too late to get a refund on your ticket and have one of the guys at the shop cover me for a few days. Some things are more important, Kurt, and frankly we haven't had a whole lot of time together recently. Indulge your old man? Before either of us knows it you'll be going away to college, and the house is going to be a lot quieter after that."

Kurt melted into the seat and smiled. "I promise, college won't be something that divides us. After all, I'm counting on you to come up whenever you can and threaten people."

"So what am I doing?" Burt asked bluntly. "Because I'm gonna have to pay for parking pretty soon, and I don't want to if you're not flying."

Shoulders straightening, and holding his plane ticket just a little less tightly, Kurt said confidently, "I'm flying."

"Alright." Burt shook his head. "But you're not fooling anyone, kid."

His father walked him through the terminal as far as he could, Kurt letting the older man pull his baggage along, no matter how ridiculous the designer line looked in the hands of a man wearing flannel and a baseball cap. Kurt was happy enough to shoulder his carry-on and sip easily at the latte he'd picked up at a nearby café.

Kurt spotted Tina near the baggage check-in station and gave her a small wave as she stood with her parents, but most of his attention was diverted to his father who was beginning to look pale. And it struck Kurt, for the first time, that he'd been worried about his own anxiety over the flight, and less about his father's. It was a stunning revelation that had him feeling numb.

"Dad," he said when he could, just after checking his luggage, "Are you going to be okay?"

His father tried to look nonchalant as he gave a half wave. "Fine. You color coated all my meals in the refrigerator, outlined my exercise regiment and conned Carole into making sure I follow the doctor's orders to the letter. I still think you're overreacting. My heart attack was months ago and a half ago, Kurt."

"And you could have another one at any time," Kurt rushed to say, "if we don't get you firmly into a new way of living. You have to be careful about everything, dad. And just because I'm not there to make sure you're being good, doesn't mean I won't know when you cheat and eat something greasy." Regardless of the people around them, Kurt let his arm slip around his father's waist easily. "But that's not what I meant."

Burt was quiet a moment, taking in the feeling of Kurt's grip, then he said, "I'll be okay. Just … just call me when you touch down, the first chance you get. Hell, call me from the plane if you want to."

"I will," Kurt promised.

A moment later they were back on their way to the final security check, where Kurt would be forced to part with him.

His father questioned, "Are you sure you have everything?"

"And then some," Kurt confessed. "Apparently Mike gets plane sick pretty bad, and yesterday he slipped me some of his Dramamine. With luck, I'll take it, and maybe a little Benadryl, and be out for most of the flight."

Kurt found himself wrapped up in his father's arms after that, having to tiptoe up into full contact. He breathed deeply, taking in his father's scent, and tried to store it away for days later when he was in a hotel room with no sense of familiarity.

"I love you," his father mumbled into his neck, and Kurt squeezed tighter. "Have a safe flight."

Most of the glee club were already waiting at the departure gate when Kurt arrived. He noted Mr. Shue talking worriedly at the gate's front desk, but made his way over to Mercedes and Artie.

"What's going on?" he asked. Another quick look told him that only Sam, Quinn and Brittany had yet to show. He glanced at his watch and hoped they made the flight, scheduled to depart in less than half an hour.

Mercedes gave a small shrug. "Apparently they overbooked the flight. Mr. Shue just wants to make sure we don't get bumped. There isn't another flight going out of Columbus for another day."

"It would suck," Artie agreed, "to be stuck here until tomorrow morning."

The windows of the airport were huge and spotless, and afforded him a perfect view of their plane. "That ours?" he asked, thumbing at it. His stomach was already flopping. "Our plane?"

Mercedes bounced happily. "Yep. I'm so excited. I love flying."

Kurt forced a smile.

"Hey," Tina greeted, sliding up next to them. She laughed a little and teased Kurt, "I saw your dad pulling your Louis Vuitton luggage. It looked so weird."

"One day I'll be famous," he shot back at her, "and I'll have people carrying around things for me I don't even need."

Artie bumped his chair into Kurt's leg playfully. "We don't doubt that."

Somehow, Kurt was sure there was an insult wrapped up in the words.

As it turned out, there was nothing to worry about. Their seats remained safe, all members of the glee club were present and accounted for by the time their boarding group was called, and minutes before that Kurt had been able to slip away into a nearby bathroom and swallow down the tablets Mike had given him.

It wasn't until he was on the plane, his legs feeling shaky and uncoordinated, that he realized how far apart he'd be sitting from Mercedes. She was located towards the front of the plane and he was much further back. In fact it seemed all of the glee club were scattered about in pairs and small groups. Kurt wondered who he'd be stuck next to as he found his seat and slid all the way in towards the window. A few minutes later there was a woman in the isle seat and Kurt began to concentrate on buckling his lap belt. He slammed the cover down over the window and closed his eyes.

A voice broke in, "I like the window open."

Kurt blinked open his eyes and frowned at the sight of Puck sliding past the woman and dropping into the seat located between them.

"I don't," Kurt said, his voice rough. "And I'm next to it, so what I say goes."

Puck slumped in his seat and threw Kurt a dark look. "If you spend the next three hours bitching at me I will make it so you're lip synching at Regional's. Don't push me, princess. It's bad enough I have to sit next to you and smell your girly apple-cucumber lotion."

"Very witty," Kurt snapped. "You're welcomed to move seats if I bother you so much."

"Chill." Puck wiggled to get comfortable. "It's a short enough flight anyway."

The plane gave a rumble, the engines beginning the preflight check and Kurt instinctively clutched at the armrests, taking over not only his, but Puck's as well. "Not short enough."

Puck turned towards him, eyes narrowing, and he asked, "You don't get plane sick, do you? Because if you barf on me-"

"Can it!" Kurt wondered if he could do it after all, if he could stomach the plane trip. He could feel himself start to breathe faster, and more shallow. He felt as if he could loose it at any moment, and then he wouldn't just be letting himself down ,he'd be letting the entire glee club down.

It was the unexpected and warm weight of Puck's hand that startled Kurt into opening his eyes once more.

Puck leaned into his personal space and asked, "You don't like flying, do you?"

Wordlessly, Kurt nodded.

"You're probably not the only person freaked out. We live in Lima, Ohio. Most of the glee club has never been on a plane, let alone seen one in person. Don't freak out. There's nothing to worry about."

The words resonated with Kurt, and he admitted, "That's what my mom said to me."

It seemed as if the world had fallen away, and there was only the two of them. There was no real explanation for why Puck was being so genuine in his words, and far less of a tool than Kurt had expected.

Puck asked slowly, "Isn't your mom dead?"

Once more, Kurt nodded. "She …" he had to clear his throat. "Ten years."

An eyebrow rose. "And you remember something she told you that long ago?"

He couldn't control his mouth. It was probably a combination of the way the plane's occupants were quieting down and the engines were getting louder. They were minutes away from pushing back from the gate, and Kurt was beginning to panic. So he rambled to Puck, "We were flying. Dad was waiting for us at home, here, at Columbus, and we were flying back from New Jersey. Mom's family lived there. We had gone to visit them because Nana was sick and they didn't think she had long. We were flying and she said to me that there was noting to worry about. She held my hand and promised me that."

There was an odd look on Puck's face and he ducked down, ignoring the flight attendants who were now speaking, explaining emergency procedure. "Rough flight?"

Kurt gave a strangled laugh.

"We didn't even …" he had to lean forward and brace his elbows on his knees. "A bird got sucked into the engine on takeoff. I guess that blew it out, and then we were falling." He remembered screaming. He was screaming, and so was his mother, and all of the people around him. Of all of his memories, it was that plane trip that he remembered the most. It had been seven months before his mother died, and despite all of the good things that had happened between that time, it was still what was most vivid in his mind.

"Dude," Puck hissed out.

"Everything was shaking," Kurt continued, voice wavering.

They pushed back from the gate and Kurt gave a terribly loud squeak, burying his face in his hands. He felt like a toddler, but couldn't help himself.

"Do not have a panic attack," Puck hissed. "Obviously you're okay. Dude, Kurt, just …"

"I couldn't get on another plane after that," Kurt mumbled through his fingers. "My dad had to drive all the way up to New Jersey to get us, and even the car scared me after that. I thought we were going to die. I really did."

The armrest went up, Kurt barely registered, and then there was an arm around him, holding him tight like his father did. It took a while for him to realize it was Puck, crowding into Kurt's seat.

"What're you doing?" Kurt asked in a breath tone.

Puck's voice was low and heavy as he said, "Don't you breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Huh?"

"Just breathe through your nose and out of your mouth. I'm pretty sure Mr. Shue is going to blame me if you pass out, so do your best not to. And Finn's on that whole big brother act since your folks got married, so no guarantee he won't punch me in the face if I let anything happen to you." Puck reached past him to close the window shade the last bit that Kurt had missed. "Close your eyes, put your head against my shoulder and think about your mom, okay? Think about your favorite thing about her."

Her smell. That was easy. Of all the things Kurt loved about her, it was her smell. She always smelled like flowers. She smelled like roses and lilacs and lilies and marigolds. She smelled like a different flower every day, and like the sweetest bouquet. While most of the boys his age had been running around, destroying things and fighting with each other, Kurt had always been one to lay next to her and read.

Kurt felt his body press back against Puck with an unnatural force and he thought harder about the way his mother would stand in front of her dresser and spray perfume on her pale skin. For a long time Kurt had loathed the perfume, and had even dumped a bottle of it out at one point. He wanted her to smell like flowers forever. It wasn't until she was dead that he clung to the scent of her perfume. The smell of flowers perished with her, but the perfume remained.

At some point the combination of her memory and the Dramamine, caused Kurt to nod off. He felt himself slipping for a moment, then nothing else.

He wasn't aware of anything until what felt like forever. His limbs were so heavy he let them be, and hummed quietly as fingers carded through his hair. He was tipped sideways, he knew that much, upper body draped over firm legs. But it was all of little importance as he continued to be soothed by a combination of the hand and the hum of the plane.

"Go back to sleep. We're still half a hour out of New York."

"Puck?" his mouth felt dry and after a bit, Kurt looked up at his teammate. "What's …"

"Go back to sleep," Puck reiterated. The hand remained in Kurt's hair. "You can get another fifteen in before they'll make you wake up for our decent."

"Still flying?" he fought to get caught up.

"Smooth sailing," Puck said with a smile. "You might have even enjoyed it if you hadn't been out before we even got to our flight altitude."

Regardless of Puck's urgings, Kurt sat up slowly, working a hand at his neck to rub out the soreness he felt. "We're close to New York?"

"Are you always this clueless when you wake up?"

He'd been sleeping on Puck, Kurt realized suddenly. Puck had let him sleep in his lap and hadn't made fun of him or treated him badly for it. A blush settled over his face and he had to look away quickly, admitting, "Coffee helps. But since my dad had his heart attack I've switched him to decaf and it turns out that hurts the whole family in the long run." He cleared his throat after that, not sure what more he could say. It was a while before he could said, "Thanks."

Puck seemed to understand immediately. "Whatever. I did that way more for me than for you."

Kurt flashed him a smile. "Thanks anyway."

He caught Puck glancing at him from the corner of his eye but said nothing about it. Instead his fingers inched towards the shade covering his window.

"You sure you want to do that?" Puck asked. "You gonna freak out on me if you do?"

"You told me," Kurt said, trying not to let any of the earlier panic sneak up on him, "that you like the window open. You just did something for me, so let me return the favor." He'd been prepared to push the shade up, close his eyes and settle back for the rest of the trip. He hadn't expected to loose his breath and have his eyes widen at the beautiful skyline dotted by wispy, white clouds.

Once more he felt Puck lean into his personal space. Then the taller teen was remarking, "All kinds of awesome, right? The view is the best part of flying."

It really was.

The decent of the plane was scary, and something Kurt couldn't remember from his childhood. But it was made bearable by Puck's grip on his hand again. Their fingers squeezed together and Kurt was certain that if Puck worked a little on it, he could end up being an acceptable human being. With a little luck.

"I'm fine," Kurt swore to his father as he spoke to him later that day. He stood with the rest of the glee club in front of the airport as they waited for their shuttle to take them to the hotel. He leaned back on his suitcase and added, "I slept almost the entire way. I was really only awake for the last half an hour or so."

He could feel Puck's eyes on him, something thrilling and unnerving, and Kurt turned his back even further to the other boy, finishing with his father, "We're about to head to the hotel now. I'll call you again, later tonight."

Kurt sat as far away from Puck on the shuttle as he could, completely unsure of what to think of the entire plane episode. It probably really was best to keep a respectable amount of distance between them.

They didn't win Regionals. And in a lot of was Kurt was okay with it. They'd never sung better, the competition had been incredibly fierce and there was always senior year to think about. Rumor had it next year's Regionals were being held in California. That had cushioned the heartbreak in most of them, if only a little.

But then there was the plane trip back for Kurt to worry about, and he was pretty certain there wasn't going to be a certain running back to lean on. He'd likely just have to suck it up and deal with the fact that he'd already made one successful plane trip, and chances were he was about to have a repeat performance.

So he did. Ignoring everything and everyone, he boarded the plane, walked as confidently as he could to his seat, and then took a deep, reassuring breath. He buckled in, closed his eyes and prayed for the moment he could turn his ipod on and try and let the Dramamine kick in.

"Kurt?"

Kurt turned to look at Mike, the Asian wearing a look of concern.

"Do you have the seat next to me?" Kurt asked. It was better than getting Mercedes who'd probably worry over him for the entire duration, or Santana who'd bitch at him.

Mike clearly hesitated, people moving by him awkwardly, then he said, "You look really sick. Did you run out of the Dramamine?"

Gently, Kurt shook his head. "Just took the last of it. I really don't like flying." In fact he was starting to feel a churning in his stomach.

Mike slid carefully into the seat next to him and said, "I'll get the flight attendant to bring us some extra barf bags."

Kurt groaned. The only thing, he was pretty sure, that was going to make the trip even worse, was to have a vomiting boy right next to him.

He white knuckled the takeoff. He tried his very best to recall Puck's words to him nearly a week previous. He thought once more of his mother and her scene and all the good things in his life. It was barely enough, and they were flying safe by the time his eyelids started to drop and he relaxed back against the seat, breathing in short breaths.

"You still don't look okay," Mikey observed next to him.

Across the isle Kurt could see Puck, the other boy leaning forward to look at him. He was mouthing something to Kurt, something that couldn't quiet be made out.

The plane jostled suddenly and Kurt froze, eyes wide. He stopped breathing and demanded, "What was that?"

Mikey breathed into his barf bag. "I don't know, but if it happens again, I'm really going to be sick."

There was another, rough shake and Kurt, who was already frayed, began to imagine the worst possible scenarios. He squeezed his eyes shut and began to mumble to himself the same words his mother had said to him a decade ago on their flight. She had been right then. Their plane had been forced to make an emergency landing, but they had still been perfectly fine, not even a bump or bruise.

"I can't do this," Kurt breathed out as the pilot came over the intercom and announced they'd hit a patch of turbulence. "I really can't do this." He was speaking to himself, or maybe to Mike, or maybe to no one at all.

"Move it!"

Kurt could hear shuffling, and was vaguely aware of hearing Puck's voice, then he was being pulled against a solid chest and a hand was tucking his head under someone's chin.

When he managed to pry his eyes open he noticed that Mike was gone, and in his place was Puck.

"Puck?" Kurt questioned, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Quiet," Puck instructed. "Put your music on and close your eyes."

Kurt looked down at his ipod in his hands. He'd been trying to get the earbuds in for minutes, but his hands had been shaking too greatly to do more than jab at his head with them. Now his hands were still and he felt like he could risk trying one last time.

"You don't have to do this," Kurt told him quietly.

"Go to sleep." Puck shot him an insistent look. "Just … just go to sleep."

So Kurt did.

The turbulence didn't last for long and for the rest of the flight Kurt drowsed easily.

Being home felt good, even if Columbus didn't really count as home. It still felt good to have his feet on Ohioan soil, and as he pulled his bag from the turnstile, Kurt was ready to do nothing but see his father and head out to Lima. He predicted they'd get takeout, and then curl up on the couch together and watch TV for a while.

A voice next to Kurt rumbled, "Just so we're clear, princess, this doesn't make me your boyfriend or anything."

Kurt's eyebrows raised as he slung his carry-on over his shoulder. "Listen, Noah, I appreciate you helping me on the plane, but don't flatter yourself."

"I didn't do it for you," Puck insisted.

"Oh, yes, I remember," Kurt nodded. "I'll see you in glee on Monday."

He began to head away from the turnstile, already looking for his father. He was halted by a hand at his elbow. "Puck? Was there something else?"

A second later Puck let his hand drop away. "Nothing."

"Hey," Finn greeted, stepping up next to Kurt. "We should get going. My mom already sent me a text. She and your dad are waiting outside. She said he's getting pretty antsy."

Kurt offered Puck a small wave and told Finn, "I was just telling Puck how we could share in our collective loss on Monday. It can be a bonding experience."

"Sounds good." Finn punched Puck playfully in the shoulder, then headed off towards the front exit. Kurt gave one last look to Puck and then hurried after his stepbrother.

"I saw you two," Finn told him later that night, after things had calmed down, dinner had been eaten and everyone had retired for the night. "I saw you and Puck on the plane."

Kurt shifted onto his stomach in his bed and looked across the pitch black basement bedroom, even if he couldn't see Finn on the other side. "A momentary lapse in judgment, I assure you, coupled with sheer desperation." He wondered which time Finn had seen, or if it was both.

Silence leaked between them before Finn said, "You dad told me you might have some trouble flying. I was going to get Mike to change seats with me, but then Puck was there and I was pretty sure he wasn't going to move."

"I don't like flying," Kurt told him, and he felt like he'd been doing nothing but repeating himself. "Puck was actually helpful."

"Oh."

"Why?"

"It kind of looked like …"

"Finn Hudson!"

Finn huffed. "I was just checking, okay? The guy claims to be straight, but I have it on good authority he'll make a pass at anything with two legs."

"He wasn't trying to molest me," Kurt assured. "When push comes to shove, if Puck ever manages to trade in his attitude problem for something less abrasive, I'm sure he could end up being a very nice person. He's not nearly as tough as he wants people to think he is."

"Puck and nice don't go together, Kurt."

Kurt hummed a response. He wasn't so sure. But neither did he have the energy to work it out at the moment. He'd deal with the conundrum that was Noah Puckerman on Monday. Until then, all he wanted to do was sleep, and maybe remember the way Puck had smelled like sunflowers.