Title: An Old Bench in the Park
Characters: Noah Puckerman, Kurt Hummel
Warnings: Alternative Universe
Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Word Count: 4028
Rating: G
Summary: Kurt always goes to sit on the oldest bench where he can be alone with his thoughts. One evening someone finds him.

Kurt got out of his house, his head bowed down and his hands slid deep into the pockets of his jeans. The cold wind was making him shiver but in the hurry of leaving he had forgotten to pick up his jacket. He let his feet carry him to his usual hiding place, a bench in the park not too far away from home.

The bench was hidden by the trees and the only visible thing was the big old white house standing behind it just outside of the park. The wood was ruined and always wet as if an invisible cloud loomed over it; the fact that was in the one path people always ignored, made it the perfect place for Kurt.

He sat down feeling the cold and wetness of the old wood seeping through his jeans. He raised his knees and leaned his forehead on them squeezing his eyes shut. He inhaled deeply before holding his breath repeating over and over in his head that he wasn't going to cry. He felt the tears starting to fill his eyes and squeezed them harder; in the end only one lonely tear fell and Kurt hastily wiped it away with the sleeve of his jumper.

He opened his eyes slowly watching the lamppost in front of him slowly coming to life. He took another deep breath and felt the cold air burn his lungs and welcomed it. He leaned his head against the back of the bench and looked up at the sky, his eyes getting lost in the dark blue slowly fading into black and every thought that had been plaguing him became nothing more than whispers in the back of his mind.

He didn't hear the sound of feet stomping over dead leaves, didn't notice anyone else was there until he felt something brushing up against his arm. He jumped startled and turned around finding a guy sitting on the bench next to him. The guy was staring at him with a frown as if Kurt had done something wrong and that throw him so off balance that he forgot to tell the guy that he had scared him.

Of course being that a public park if the guy wanted to sit on that bench, Kurt couldn't tell him to leave. He settled on saying, "Hello," and mentally told himself that he could have come up with something better.

The guy didn't answer but his face relaxed and he raised a hand and waved his fingers in a sort of greeting.

This time it was Kurt the one frowning. "Not one for words I guess," Kurt mumbled and the guy gave him a strange little smile that was a bit sad and amused at the same time.

He figured that he should go home, because it was getting late and now that he couldn't be on his own anymore, he had no reason to stay. However he didn't want to go back yet and he didn't want to give up his favorite place no matter how childish that sounded even just in his head. So he sat down, thinking that if the guy wanted to be on his own, he wouldn't have chosen a bench already occupied.

Kurt darted a glance towards the guy noticing the bright orange knit hat that stood out against the boy's tanned skin. He was wearing a jeans jacket with the collar covered in white wool that didn't look much warmer than the jumper Kurt had on. When his eyes got back to the guy's face, he found him smirking and Kurt had to fight back a blush.

He cleared his throat and said, "No one ever sits here." The guy shrugged and Kurt sighed. "It's kind of my usual bench," he added, hoping the guy would take the hint and leave. Instead he nodded and scooted a little closer to Kurt and reached for his hand. Kurt pulled it back cradling it to his chest as if he had been burned. "What…"

A determined expression crossed the guy's face before he reached for Kurt's hand again this time holding on it strong enough that Kurt couldn't free himself.

Kurt was about to demand what he thought he was doing, but stopped when the boy turned over Kurt's hand and started tracing his fingers across Kurt's palm.

Kurt frowned down at their hands but his eyes followed the movements the calloused fingers were making finally noticing that they were letters. "I," he said out loud, "A-M-P-U-C-K." He spelled out the letters and then repeated, "I am Puck." For a moment he didn't understand but then his eyes widened and he looked up at the boy who was staring at him expectantly.

"You can't talk?"

The guy, Puck, Kurt corrected in his mind, nodded. 'I'm sorry,' was on the tip of his tongue but he knew that was the wrong thing to say. "I'm Kurt," he chose instead.

Puck smiled tentatively at him and then brought his hands up and ran a palm across the other, then he brought his index fingers together and then pointed one at Kurt. He did it again and this time his mouth silently formed the words at the same time.

Kurt smiled and nodded. "I get it. Nice to meet you too, Puck," he said and tried to do the same signs Puck had just done.

Puck nodded and clapped Kurt on the shoulder as if telling him, you did good and that just made Kurt's smile widen. Then Puck reached for his hand again and this time Kurt let him. His eyes focused on the letters Puck was tracing, repeating them out loud. "W-H-Y-A-R-E-Y-O-U-S-A-D?"

Kurt looked up at that, his eyes finding Puck's dark ones in the dim light. The guy was staring at him looking concerned and that was what surprised Kurt even more than the question. "I…" He thought about laughing it off, saying that Puck was wrong, but Puck raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge. "I have some problems at home," he finished saying, wondering why he was sharing something so personal with a stranger.

Puck nodded and raised his hand to his forehead, bending his index finger so it was touching his thumb and then he flickered his index finger so it was pointing up. He repeated it twice letting Kurt follow the slow movements of his lips.

"I understand," Kurt repeated out loud. The corner of his lips twitched into a smile but it didn't reach his eyes. "Can you hear?" he asked, and hoped he wasn't being indelicate.

Puck smiled and nodded.

"I have never seen you here before," Kurt said. "I come here to be on my own," he confessed, then as if realizing how that sounded, he quickly added, "I don't mean you have to go." This time he actually blushed and Puck's smile widened reaching his eyes and making them brighter in the evening light.

Puck slid his hands in the pockets of his jacket as if searching for something and pulled out a pencil and a small notepad. He flipped over a few pages until he found a clean one, then he braced the notepad against his knee and quickly started to write. After a minute he handed it over to Kurt being careful not to make eye-contact, looking almost shy.

I see you here everyday and you always look sad. I figured today was a good time to finally come talk to you.

Kurt rolled his lips inside his mouth and stared down at Puck's messy handwriting. "Do you spend your day hiding behind the bushes?" he asked, his tone light to make sure that Puck would understand he was joking. He threw him a sidelong glance and found the other boy rolling his eyes.

Puck took the notepad back and wrote, I live in the big house behind you. I see you from the window of my room.

Kurt glanced at the barely visible house and then shook his head. "I've always wondered who lived there."

Puck scooted closer to Kurt so he didn't have to hand the notepad all over again. He wrote, Would you like to see it? and then added, I swear it's not an excuse to get into your pants!

Kurt blushed furiously and then started laughing, shaking his head and feeling lighter than he had in months. "I can't believe you just wrote that," he managed to say once his laughter had subsided.

This time Puck's smirk was deliberate and flirtatious. He added, I'm a stud, dude! and made Kurt laugh all over again.

"I can't, not tonight," Kurt told him feeling truly regretful as if Puck wasn't a complete stranger. "It's getting late and my dad will worry."

Puck nodded and wrote, Tomorrow?

Kurt didn't have to think about it. He nodded and said, "Yes." He got up from the old bench and swiped at the back of his jeans even though he knew it would be useless. When he looked down at Puck to say goodbye, he found the boy staring at him with a self-satisfied grin.

Puck held up the notepad and Kurt read out loud. "I made you smile." He felt a foreign sensation spreading inside him, it felt warm and uplifting; he felt his face softening. "Thank you," he said. "How do you say that?"

Puck brought up his hand, his fingers touching his lips, and moved it forward towards Kurt. Kurt repeated the gesture and then added, "I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked tentatively, as if Puck wasn't someone he had met just an hour ago, as if they were actually friends.

Puck nodded and got to his feet and Kurt noticed that they were almost of the same height. They stood there for a few moments just staring at each other and then as if catching what he was doing, Kurt shook his head and blushed again.

"Right, I should go."

Puck raised his hand, closed into a fist with his thumb sticking out, and opened it and closed it a few times and Kurt got that one.

He said goodbye to him and turned around to head back home.

Puck watched him go, sliding his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and biting down on his lower lip to stop himself from smiling like a fool.

Kurt stood in front of the white house staring at the wrought metal of the gate, at the large driveway that led up to a porch encircled by pillars and at the balcony that from the first floor looked down on the entrance. When he was younger he had made up stories in his mind about the people living in the house wondering why he had never seen anyone in the beautiful garden.

He spared a moment to wonder if perhaps Puck had always lived detached from everyone and Kurt thought of a life spent like that with sorrow, as if it should have been up to him to find Puck somehow and make him his friend. It was strange to think like that about someone he had only just met but thinking about the loneliness he had felt after his mom passed away, he couldn't help but think that if only he'd had Puck they could have helped each other out, as selfish as that sounded to his own mind.

Taking a breath, Kurt pressed the button of the entry phone and while waiting for someone to answer, looked behind him at the street still wondering if coming had been a good idea. A metallic voice asking who was at the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Turning around, he cleared his voice and said, "I'm Kurt," and then thinking that it wouldn't be enough, he quickly added, "Puck asked me over."

There was a pause and then Kurt heard a click and the gate started to open. He quickly walked through and up the driveway. He almost expected a butler to be there for him waiting and he had to smile at himself. When he reached the front door it opened and a woman with straight dark hair stared at him calculating.

"You're here to see Puck?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am. I met him in the park and…"

The woman's eyes widened and she pushed the door further open and waved Kurt in with a smile. "You mean you're his friend?"

Kurt shrugged because he didn't know if he could actually call himself that. They had spent a little over an hour together and they knew nothing about each other. "Kind of," he settled on saying.

The woman extended her hand, "I'm Abigail, Puck's mom."

"I'm Kurt Hummel," he answered shaking her hand. He looked around the spacious foyer searching for Puck more than for taking in the décor. "Is Puck home?"

"He's always home," she answered regretfully. She stepped forward and slid her arm through Kurt's. "Let me show you his room, okay?"

"Sure." Kurt was feeling a bit embarrassed not used to people randomly touching him. He let her guide him up the stairs and then to the last room of the hall on the right. She knocked and said, "Honey, Kurt's here."

There was a thud like a book falling on a carpet and then muffled footsteps before the door was finally pulled open. Puck stood there with a smile on his face, his eyes completely focused on Kurt. He raised his hand to his head and moved it in what reminded Kurt of a military salute.

"Hey," Kurt greeted back.

Puck's mom looked between them and her smile widened. "I will go fix you boys something to eat," she said and then walked away.

Puck rolled his eyes and waved Kurt inside leaving the door open. He walked over to his desk and grabbed a notepad.

She can't believe I have someone over, he wrote making Kurt chuckle.

Kurt watched Puck roll his lips in his mouth looking somewhat shy as he added, I'm glad you came. Kurt looked up at him with a soft smile.

"You promised me to see the house, I couldn't refuse," he joked and Puck shook his head grinning.

Puck sat down on the bed and Kurt looked around the big room. From one of the two windows the old bench where Kurt liked to sit was perfectly visible. It made him feel self-conscious and question whether Puck had ever seen him crying. He quickly diverted his gaze and noticed the guitar propped up against the wall.

"Do you play?" he asked.

Puck nodded, his eyes taking in every expression crossing Kurt's face.

Then Kurt's gaze fell on the open notebook on Puck's bed. "You compose?" he asked amazed, staring at the notes and words scribbled there. Without thinking he sat down next to Puck. "You have to let me hear something."

Puck shook his head and wrote, It's just music, I can't sing it.

"I can," he offered quickly. "Let me hear the music and then I can try to sing." He blushed and looked down at the colorful carped. "I mean, if that's okay."

Puck got up from the bed and walked over to the wall to pick up his guitar, then he came back and sat down next to Kurt. He looked into Kurt's blue eyes for a moment as if searching for something and then nodded and started playing.

The music was soft and Kurt listened carefully, his eyes moving back and forth from Puck's long fingers moving over the strings to the focused expression on his face while his mouth moved around silent words. Before Puck could notice him staring, Kurt quickly looked down at the lyrics written in the notebook.

When Puck stopped he glanced up at Kurt with a raised eyebrow as if silently asking if he had changed his mind. Kurt nodded and cleared his throat and then scooted a little closer to Puck.

Puck started playing the song again and Kurt waited until his cue before starting singing.

Over the course of the next months Kurt spent his spare time over at Puck's house. He met Puck's sister, Sarah, and got into the habit of making tea with Puck's mom. It was one afternoon of Spring when while he was sitting down at the wooden table of the kitchen, Abigail told him about Puck's past.

She was looking through the cupboards searching for the new kind of tea she wanted Kurt to try, when she quietly said, "Did you ask him about what happened to him?"

Startled, Kurt looked up from the magazine he was reading and his gaze fell on Abigail's turned back. "No. I figured if he wanted so share about that, he would have told me."

She sighed heavily and turned around, a few tea bags clutched in her hands. Her brown eyes settled on Kurt and she looked uncertain for a moment, then as if coming to a decision, she sat down on the chair across from him. "When he was eight his father left us. It was the middle of the night and Noah heard him so he went after him but his father didn't care and so Noah sat on the porch and waited until morning hoping that jerk would come back." Her hands tightened around the tea bags and she looked as if the anger from that day was still fresh. "When I found Noah in the morning he was freezing, he got a high fever and a severe infection to his throat. The doctors said they didn't know whether he'd ever speak again or not and Noah hasn't talked ever since." She looked tired all of a sudden and let herself lean heavily against the back of the chair. "He didn't want to go to school anymore so I got him a tutor and he hasn't had lots of friends ever since," she scoffed and then corrected herself. "She hasn't had any friends, period."

Abigail reached out and put her hand on Kurt's and squeezed, a sad smile curving her lips. "I'm glad you two somehow found each other."

Kurt wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. He felt anger towards a man he had never even met, and felt sorry that Puck had to go through all that. He settled on saying, "He found me."

"Well, I'm glad it happened," Abigail replied with a big grin that looked exactly like one of Puck's. She patted his hand a couple of times and then stood up to grab two mugs. "He's not one for sharing about his feelings."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I noticed. He just lets me talk about everything but he barely tells me what goes through his mind."

Abigail chuckled and glanced at Kurt from over her shoulder. "Believe me, he's excited every time you come over."

There was a fondness in her expression whenever she looked at Kurt that made him think about his own mother and made his chest constrict. He looked away from her before tears got into his eyes. "I'm trying to get him to teach me about sign language but he insists on writing down everything, says it's easier that way."

"And do you listen to him?"

Kurt scoffed. "Of course not. I've found an on-line course. I don't know how good it's going to be, but," he trailed off with a shrug and started reading his magazine again.

"I can help you," Abigail offered while putting down a steaming mug in front of Kurt.

He looked up at her with a wide grin on his face. "Really?"

"Of course." She blew softly over her mug and looked at Kurt with a conspirator glance. "Drink your tea, dear, it's Rose, this time."

"Kurt, is there… is there a boy?"

Kurt was so shocked by the question that his fork fell on the plate with a loud bang. He looked up at his father and opened and closed his mouth a few times before being finally able to manage a simple, "What?"

Burt cleared his throat and shrugged. "I was wondering if you had a boyfriend or something."

"Why would you ask that, dad?"

Another shrug and then, "You've been so cheerful lately, doesn't really look like you."

Kurt frowned. He hadn't realized he had been acting strange, but then again, perhaps it was one of those things that just an outside eye could notice. He shrugged mimicking his father and then reached for his glass taking a sip of water to buy some time. "Is it bad?"

"No, no." Burt took a sip of his beer and looked at his son shaking his head. "It suits you."

"I… It's just Puck," he finally confessed and bit on his lower lip to stop the smile he felt tagging at his lips. "Just Puck."

"Puck?" Burt asked perplexed. "What kind of name is that?"

"It's not his real name, dad. It's Noah Puckerman, he lives in the white house near the park."

The older Hummel nodded as if that meant a lot and then spared a few seconds to study Kurt wondering if the boy had even realized to be grinning like a fool in love. He started laughing and couldn't stop even when Kurt looked at him as if he were crazy. "Well, thank him for me."

The hot air was coming inside from the open windows of Puck's bedroom, the smell of freshly cut grass filling the place. Puck was sitting cross legged on the floor, the guitar slid over his knees and his notebook at his feet. He'd play a few chords and then write down on the paper. His eyes kept moving from the strings to Kurt who was laying down on Puck's bed, his eyes closed and a magazine left open on his stomach.

Puck kept staring at the slow rising and falling of Kurt's chest and then as if finally catching what he was doing, he shook his head at himself and focused back on the song he was writing. He distractedly thought back about when he had joked with Kurt about them forming a band or at least a duo. Kurt had laughed until he had tears in his eyes and then said, "We have to do it," his eyes shining so brightly Puck couldn't even tell what color they were.

"Puck?" Kurt called softly.

He distractedly nodded to tell him to go on and quickly jotted down a few more notes.

"Puck, how do you say, "I like you,"?"

Puck turned around and moved his left hand away from the neck of the guitar and up. He flattened it against his chest and then moved it forward connecting his thumb and middle finger and then pointed to Kurt. He repeated it once again and then turned back to his guitar.

He was concentrating on the passage that didn't sound right when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up finding Kurt staring at him with an impatient smile. He raised an eyebrow and Kurt furrowed his brow in concentration.

"I like you," he whispered, repeating Puck's hand movement. Then he looked up at Puck expectantly and Puck was still trying to understand what Kurt meant by that. "Did I get it wrong?" he asked then. He repeated the gesture and said once again, "I like you."

Puck blinked fast and Kurt smiled. He licked his lips nervously and leaned forward stopping only for a moment to give Puck the chance of pulling back and when that didn't happen, he pressed his lips against Puck's, gently but firmly enough to let him know that there was nothing else Kurt would rather do.

Puck relaxed against him and so Kurt slid his arms around Puck's neck bringing him closer, smiling against Puck's lips. He pulled back and looked into Puck's hazel eyes and laughed.

Puck took a moment to sign what he had just showed Kurt but finishing by bringing together his index fingers.

"What does that mean?"

Puck rolled his eyes and then grabbed the front of Kurt's t-shirt and kissed him again.

The End