The Boys of Summer: part 2
The Boys are Back in Town: part 1
The Boys are Back in Town: part 2
Feels Like the First Time: part 1
Feels LIke the First Time: part 2
Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin': part 1
Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin': part 2
Run to the Hills: part 1
Run to the Hills: part 2
Part VI: Hammer to Fall
“So,” Dean said, clapping his hands. “What do we know about this thing?” He sat on the edge of Bobby’s desk and rubbed his hands together.
“No much,” Sam said. He was on the couch, computer in his lap. “We’re working mostly off of rumors of legends.”
“Leviathan was the boogey man to angels, too,” Gabriel said. He was sitting on the floor at Sam’s feet--no, he was sitting on Sam’s feet. Dean looked away, determined not to think about it. “Unkillable. No grace. No soul.”
“There were two,” Cas said. He still hovered in the doorway, arms wrapped around himself. Dean tried to meet his eyes but Cas wouldn’t look up from the floor. “Male and Female.”
“Yeah,” Gabriel said. “and Dad unmade the female because he was afraid of what they would do to the Earth if they multiplied.
“Well, that’s something,” Sam said. “We know that there were two, and now there’s one.”
“One’s enough,” Dean muttered.
“And Dad’s not stepping in this time,” Gabriel said. “I’d have heard about it,” he tapped his forehead, and Dean realized for the first time that they had a direct link to God himself; and it was silent. Freakin’ figures.
The front door banged open, and Puck and Kurt ran through, soaking wet, half-clothed and dripping. They stood in the foyer, breathing heavy and focused solely on each other. Dean watched with a barely repressed smirk as Puck reached for Kurt, only to have Kurt back away, towards the stairs. If the hickeys on Kurt’s neck were anything to go by, dark purple against his pale skin, Kurt wasn’t planning on running for long. Puck chased Kurt up the stairs, and everyone looked towards the stairs until they heard a door slam.
“Unbelievable,” Bobby muttered. Gabriel started to chuckle.
“They should hear this,” Cas said. “They are a part of this, now.”
“Oh, I got this one,” Gabriel said, and snapped. A second later Dean heard a shout and a thump, and a door opening.
“Gabriel!” Kurt screeched.
Gabriel just laughed, sharp and delighted. A few moments later Kurt and Puck came back down the stairs, faces red, but they were fully dressed and dry.
“You’re a bastard,” Kurt hissed at Gabriel.
“What did you do?” Dean heard Sam whisper to Gabriel. Well, he guessed everyone heard it, because Kurt turned the color of a tomato, and even Puck blushed.
“That’s not important,” Kurt said. “We’re here, now.” Gabriel snapped and another chair, an overstuffed armchair covered with what looked to be some very soft leather, appeared in the corner. Kurt raised his eyebrow at Gabriel, but pushed Puck into the chair, then sat himself, curling around the other teen. Dean wondered if he hadn’t just seen some kind of weird apology.
“Here,” Bobby said, walking over from the bookshelf, large tome cradled in his hands. He went to lean against the desk, right where Dean was. Bobby stopped, and looked up to glower at Dean. Dean raised his hands, and sat next to Sammy on the couch. Bobby’s settled into his space in front of the desk. “It’s from the Tanakh, the Jewish Bible.” He began to read:
1 Can you pull in the leviathan with a fishhook or tie down his tongue with a rope?
2 Can you put a cord through his nose or pierce his jaw with a hook?
3 Will he keep begging you for mercy? Will he speak to you with gentle words?
4 Will he make an agreement with you for you to take him as your slave for life?
5 Can you make a pet of him like a bird or put him on a leash for your girls?
6 Will traders barter for him? Will they divide him up among the merchants?
7 Can you fill his hide with harpoons or his head with fishing spears?
8 If you lay a hand on him, you will remember the struggle and never do it again!
9 Any hope of subduing him is false; the mere sight of him is overpowering.
“Oh, that sounds promising,” Dean said, sharing a look with Sam. Bobby kept reading.
10 No-one is fierce enough to rouse him. Who then is able to stand against me?
11 Who has a claim against me that I must pay? Everything under heaven belongs to me.
12 I will not fail to speak of his limbs, his strength and his graceful form.
13 Who can strip off his outer coat? Who would approach him with a bridle?
14 Who dares open the doors of his mouth, ringed about with his fearsome teeth?
15 His back has rows of shields tightly sealed together;
16 each is so close to the next that no air can pass between.
17 They are joined fast to one another; they cling together and cannot be parted.
18 His snorting throws out flashes of light; his eyes are like the rays of dawn.
19 Firebrands stream from his mouth; sparks of fire shoot out.
20 Smoke pours from his nostrils as from a boiling pot over a fire of reeds.
21 His breath sets coals ablaze, and flames dart from his mouth.
“It’s a freakin dragon?” Puck said, eyes wide. Dean’s own eyes widened, stuck between fear and excitement. Fear, because they’d have to kill it, and excitement because, well, freakin’ dragon.
22 Strength resides in his neck; dismay goes before him.
23 The folds of his flesh are tightly joined; they are firm and immovable.
24 His chest is hard as rock, hard as a lower millstone.
25 When he rises up, the mighty are terrified; they retreat before his thrashing.
26 The sword that reaches him has no effect, nor does the spear or the dart or the javelin.
27 Iron he treats like straw and bronze like rotten wood.
28 Arrows do not make him flee, sling stones are like chaff to him.
29 A club seems to him but a piece of straw, he laughs at the rattling of the lance.
30 His undersides are jagged potsherds, leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing-sledge.
31 He makes the depths churn like a boiling cauldron and stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment.
32 Behind him he leaves a glistening wake; one would think the deep had white hair.
33 Nothing on earth is his equal— a creature without fear.
34 He looks down on all that are haughty; he is king over all that are proud.
Bobby closed the book. “That’s all it says.”
“So, it’s unkillable,” Kurt said, voice flat.
“That,” Dean pointed at Kurt. “Is a defeatist attitude. Something has to be able to kill it.”
Kurt flung a hand toward the scripture. “That just said nothing on Earth--” Kurt stopped. He looked at Sam, who was looking back in dawning comprehension. Dean frowned. When had Kurt and Sam become knowledge buddies?
“Nothing on Earth,” Sam said. “But that doesn’t exclude unearthly means.”
Kurt frowned. “Do we have access to non-Earth weapons?”
“One of us does,” Dean said, and looked to Gabriel. Gabriel looked back, his face as blank as any newly-vesseled angel. Dean thought, in the right light, you might be able to mistake that expression for serene, but there was nothing serene about Gabriel’s eyes. Dean had to ask anyway, “Are there any angel weapons you think might work?”
Gabriel blinked, and the look was gone, replaced by the easy elasticity that characterized Gabriel as the Trickster. “None that I can think of, except maybe my Horn, but,” Gabriel sighed. “That’s supposed to bring about the end days, and--well--been there, done that.”
“What’s she doing here?” Bobby muttered, and Dean looked over to see Bobby staring out the window. Dean turned to look as well and saw Sheriff Mills park her cruiser in front of Bobby’s and make a dash for his door. A moment later Mills had banged into the house, calling for Bobby.
“Bobby, where are you? I got to--” She stopped when she saw the gathering.
“What is it?” Bobby asked.
Mills looked around, smiling at Puck, before sobering. “I was just formally requested to keep the Sioux Falls Sheriff Department away from any and all Roman Industries projects,” she said.
Bobby frowned. “That’s not good.”
“No, and?” Mills said. “The suit doing the asking? Was one of them.” She paused. “And I’m pretty sure he knew I knew.”
“Shitballs,” Bobby said. At the same time Puck said:
“Wait, you know?”
Mills glared at Bobby. “You didn’t tell him?”
“I didn’t?” Bobby glared right back. “You didn’t!”
“That’s not important,” Sam said. “They know we’re here.”
“They’ve known we’re here,” Bobby said, suddenly looking and sounding very tired. “They’ve known since the beginning. They just don’t rank us as a very high threat.”
“I think I’m insulted,” Dean said.
Bobby glared. “Better insulted than dead,” he said.
“That plant means they’re moving to the next level. Them building here is a warning.” Mills said.
“More than a warning,” Bobby said. “They’re coming for us; they told us when the news was leaked. They want us to dangle on a hook.”
Cas looked up. “We have one week to find a way to kill something with no earthly means of being killed.”
Bobby sighed. “Best get busy.”
Puck was now staying full-time at Bobby’s (and that was a conversation he never needed to have again. Ever.), splitting his time between training with Dean and Sam, and researching with Bobby and Castiel. His nights were spent with Kurt, curled around and tangled up with each other in the little bed in Bobby’s guest room, or, more often, hiding away in the van with Kurt trading lazy summer kisses.
Sheriff Mills had joined their fight, doing what she could in town to keep track of the Big Mouths. She would send word each time she encountered a new one; by Wednesday, four days in, the count was over fifty. Roman was due to break ground on Monday; who knew how many would be lurking by then.
Puck was in the kitchen with Dean, cleaning and oiling the guns (okay, so Puck was making buckshot rounds with powdered boric acid and rock salt while Dean cleaned the guns, but he would still walk away smelling of gun oil, so, you know, close enough), half-listening to Bobby talk to Mills on the phone, when he saw Kurt freeze in the doorway, face white, and run off.
“The hell?” Bobby said as the front door slammed. Puck was already on his feet.
“I got it,” Puck said, and went after Kurt; he knew where he would be.
Sure enough, when Puck opened the back door of their van, Kurt was inside, curled in on himself, face red with tears, and shaking. Kurt flinched away from the light and Puck closed the door quickly behind him.
“Fuck,” Puck whispered, and wrapped his arm around Kurt; the other teen clung, but didn’t cry. “Babe...” Puck said against Kurt’s hair. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Kurt said. His voice cracked. “I was fine, I wasn’t even upset, and then Bobby was talking about them and I--I ran. I couldn’t breathe and I ran so far and I ended up here, and I’ve been here, and Puck--Noah, I’m scared.” Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, burying his head in Puck’s chest.
“It’s okay,” Puck said quietly into Kurt’s hair; he had been expecting something like this, had known Kurt wasn’t as fine as he had insisted he was. But there was nothing he could have done, nothing until now. Kurt shook his head.
“No, it’s not--it’s not okay. How can it be--What kind of Hunter am I if I--I can’t even--” Kurt broke off, and Puck ran his hand up and down Kurt’s back, soothing. He thought about the other day, when he saw Bobby sitting at his desk, tears in his eyes, staring at a mostly empty bottle of Jack. Or when he had heard Gabriel comforting Castiel. Or the way Sam had taken the gun from Puck during target practice after he had missed three times in a row, so tired from lack of sleep that he couldn’t focus, and he couldn’t sleep because to sleep was to dream.
What Puck said was: “I found Dean crying the other day.”
Kurt blinked, and pulled back to look Puck in the face. “What?”
Puck shrugged with one arm. “I went to get--something, I don’t remember what--out of Bobby’s garage, and Dean was there, sitting on a stack of tires, staring into space just wrecked, you know. I mean--Dean’s an original badass.”
“So what,” Kurt snapped. “I’m not as badass as Dean, so it’s okay?”
“No, that’s,” Puck sighed. This would be so much easier if he could use someone else’s words. “Shit. I’m saying Dean’s done this before, and he’s scared. We’re all scared.”
Kurt slumped in Puck’s arms, and Puck pulled him in a bit tighter. “I know that,” Kurt muttered. “I do. I just...” he trailed off... “I can’t believe I freaked out like that.”
“Hey,” Puck said, and touched his fingers to Kurt’s chin, tilting his head up. “You’re my boy. I got your back.”
Kurt smiled; it looked watery and loose, but real. Thank God. “How do you do that?” Kurt asked gently.
“Do what?” Puck asked, just as gentle.
“Make me feel better.”
Puck grinned. “I got mad skills.”
Kurt laughed, curling up into Puck again. “I like your ‘skills,’” Kurt muttered into Puck’s chest, and Puck grinned at the flirtatious tone that had crept into Kurt’s voice. It looked like the crisis had passed. He pulled back to make Kurt look at him.
“Oh yeah?” Puck teased, and leaned in.
“Yeah,” Kurt said against Puck’s mouth, and damn if his boy didn’t always have to have the last word. Well, Puck knew where his strengths lay.
Kurt was grinning and Puck pressed in to deepen the kiss, licking his way past Kurt’s lips to chase his tongue and suck--Kurt groaned into Puck’s mouth and pressed closer.
Puck broke the kiss, ducking his head to mouth along Kurt’s jaw, sucking a spot just below his ear. He heard his heart rushing in his ears as he licked along Kurt’s neck, and realized that breathy sound was Kurt whispering in his ear:
“God, yes--so good--Puck--Noah--yes, please--please!”
It sent a jolt down Puck’s spine, and skin--he needed skin--he had tried, tried so hard to be good, to not rush this but Fuck Kurt was here, hot and willing in his arms and how could Puck say no anymore, and--naked, they needed to be--
Kurt’s hands fumbled at Puck’s belt and Puck wondered wildly if Kurt could read minds, because he was just--
Kurt was still talking, babbling, “Please, please, I want--I want--!”
“You sure?” Puck asked, because he wasn’t that guy, not anymore, and he had to be sure and--. “Here? Now?”
“Yes!” Kurt cried. “We’re Hunters, Puck. We’re living on borrowed time, and we’ve waited long enough. Now, please, take your pants off!”
Puck laughed--it bubbled out of him even as he leaned back to strip off his shirt, letting Kurt open his pants. Kurt’s hand were shaking, arousal or nerves Puck wasn’t sure, but when he hesitated, Kurt grabbed his pants and yanked, and Puck found himself grinning as he wiggled out of his pants, stripping the rest of the way, unashamedly naked. His grin turned smug and he flexed, loving the way Kurt flushed and couldn’t look away.
“See anything you like,” Puck pouted his lips, and Kurt snorted, but his hands were pulling off his shirt, stripping off his jeans, and--Puck licked his lips. “Well, damn,” Puck said. “If I hadn’t seen it myself, there’s no way I’d believe you fit that in those tight-ass jeans of yours.”
Kurt flushed, and Puck loved the way it spread down his chest; he reached out a hand to trace its path, and Kurt pounced, surging forward, hands grasping Puck’s face to pull him in for a kiss, as their bodies met. Kurt gasped at that first press of bare skin, and Puck braces his hands on Kurt’s waist, pulling him in, moving them together, cocks aligned and it felt so good, friction eased to just this side of rough with sweat and precome. Puck felt lightheaded; it had never felt like this before, so good, feeling sparking and swelling, and his heart felt full, and they weren’t even kissing anymore, just gasping against each other’s mouths, and it was hot--so hot--and, fuck, too soon--too soon--
Puck pulled away with a gasp, “Fuck.”
“What?” Kurt asked, voice higher and rough at the edge. “Why’d you stop?”
“More,” Puck said. “I want more.”
“Then--” Kurt’s eyes widened. “Oh. You--” he licked his lips. “What kind of more?”
“I don’t,” Puck shook his head. “No lube.” Well, they had the sunblock, but no way was their first time going to smell like artificial coconut; too many memories.
Kurt swallowed. “We’ll get some,” he said. “For next time. And--condoms.”
Condoms. Fuck. “I’m clean,” he said. “I’ve been getting tested.”
“Good,” Kurt said. “Me, too, I mean. But, for that--”
“Yeah,” Puck said. “I know, I just... You should know.”
“Yes,” Kurt nodded, and fuck Kurt must be as sex-addled as he was, because he’d never seen him so distracted. Kurt leaned in, ran his tongue over Puck’s scar, where his nipple ring used to be, and that shouldn’t be hot, but Puck was starting to get the idea that everything they did would be hot, and--
“Uh. I have an idea.” Kurt said, and he was pushing Puck, making him lay down on his side, and fuck if Puck wasn’t loving this side of Kurt; what would be bossy and controlling became aggressive and, fuck, dominant, and it had to be natural, because Kurt had said he’s never done this before, and Puck was just the fucking luckiest bro on the planet, and--
Kurt lay in front of him, or rather; his cock was in front of Puck’s face which meant Kurt’s head was--
“Oh, Fuck!” Puck cried out as Kurt wrapped a spit-slick hand around Puck’s cock, and stroked it once, twice, before leaning forward and licking across the head with his hot, wet tongue. He watched, wide eyed and panting, as Kurt slowly licked his way around the head, red lips stretched wide, glistening when he finally wrapped them around Puck’s cock and sucked. Puck’s eyes closed and his head fell back with a groan. “Fuck me,” Puck moaned.
Kurt pulled off with an obscene little pop, and said, “We said next time,” He smirked, and rolled his hips forward, catching Puck’s attention. Puck wrapped a hand around Kurt’s cock, and Kurt rewarded him by sucking Puck’s cock back into his mouth. Puck stroked, but it was too dry, he couldn’t--he pulled his hand away, licked his hand to get it as wet as possible, and wrapped it back around Kurt. Kurt groaned, and Puck shuddered at the sensation.
Puck licked his lips as he watched his hand work Kurt’s cock, and not giving himself any time to really think about it, leaned forward and mirrored Kurt’s earlier actions. Kurt twitched under him, obviously making an effort to keep still, and Puck appreciated it. The last time Puck had done anything like this, the cock was blue silicone and attached to Mrs. Thompson. But Puck remembered, and he dropped his jaw, and tried to remember his teeth, and went down as far as he could. Kurt cried out around Puck’s cock, the sound muffled, and Puck groaned at the sound; Kurt snapped his hips forward and Puck rolled with it, licking with his tongue because fuck this was so much better than cool silicone, hot and hard and alive; He tried to get a rhythm, because he knew how good that could be, but Kurt’s thrusts were irregular, the taste of precome heavy in Puck’s mouth and it was good, so good; he was drooling, his face wet, but it didn’t matter, because he could--
“Oh, oh!” Kurt cried, pulling off Puck’s cock, and he tried to pull back but Puck followed, and tried to swallow as much as he could because he knew and he wanted Kurt to--wanted to give that to Kurt, wanted to show him how much he--
Kurt’s mouth was back, hot and eager, sucking hard as his hand worked, twisting around the base, and shit his other hand cupped Puck’s balls, one finger reaching behind and pressing--
Puck’s orgasm took him by surprise and he shouted, sparks flashing behind his eyes and fuck, Fuck!
He slumped back, and Kurt pulled back, coughing, one hand pressed to his mouth.
“Fuck,” Puck gasped. “Sorry, I--”
Kurt waved him off, color high on his cheeks. “S’ok,” he said, his voice deeper than Puck expected and raspy and fuck that was hot.
Puck reached out, and pulled Kurt in for a kiss, the taste of them mingling on their tongues. He pressed their foreheads together. “You didn’t have to.”
Kurt smiled. “I know,” he said. He shrugged. “You did, and I--I kinda wanted to.”
“‘s hot,” Puck said. Kurt giggled, and pressed in closer, chest to chest, tangling their legs together. He pressed his face to Puck’s neck, and Puck pressed a kiss to Kurt’s hair.
“That. Was awesome,” Kurt said. Puck laughed.
“We should do that again.” Kurt said, and Puck grinned.
“I like the way you think.” Kurt grinned up at him and Puck leaned in for another kiss, when there was a sudden banning on the back door. They froze. Kurt cleared his throat.
“You two lovebirds might wanna put your pants on,” Dean called through the door, his voice sounding odd until Puck realized why; there was no trace of humor. “They’re early.”
Kurt followed Puck out of the van, smoothing down his shirt. Sam and Dean stood by the door, faces grim. Kurt swallowed, the fear from before threatening to choke him, but he pushed it down. This wasn’t the first time he’d faced off against a larger threat--he didn’t back down then, he wouldn’t back down now.
He looked around the yard; it was empty.
“Where--?” Kurt asked.
“Just outside the gates,” Sam said, leading them back towards the house. “They have the place surrounded.”
“How many?” Puck asked.
After a long moment, Dean said, “A lot.”
“Bobby said it was over a hundred,” Kurt said, remembering the defeated sound of Bobby’s voice. “It’s why I ran,” he swallowed. “We barely got away from one, and now we have to face over a hundred.”
“We don’t have to kill them all,” Sam said. “Just hold them off until we can kill Dick. Cut off the head, the snake dies. We kill Roman, we kill Leviathan.” He paused. “In theory.”
“Wonderful,” Kurt muttered as they approached the house. The others were gathered on the porch, arming themselves. Louder, he said. “Why are they waiting? It’s not like the wards will do anything to them.”
“Dick’s playing head games,” Dean growled as he cocked his shotgun.
“It’s a classic technique,” Sam said. “Let your enemy see your strength, so they will be disheartened.” Kurt nodded along; it was a tactic he had used himself with some of his more daring ensembles. Of course, that tactic only worked when the other party recognized your strength. And there was a world of difference between High School fashion and fighting Leviathan.
“Okay, Sam Tzu,” Dean snorted. “What about if you’re the smaller party?”
Sam shrugged. “Know thy enemy...?”
“We do not know Leviathan,” Castiel said. “Or we would know more about how to defeat it.”
“True,” Dean said. “But it doesn’t know us, either.” He grinned. “These great super-spooks--Yellow-Eyes, Mike and Lucy, the Mother--they always underestimate us.
“It knows you well enough to send over a hundred after you. It may not seem like a lot, until you remember that one of them is worth several humans,” Crowley said from behind Kurt. Kurt jumped, and glared at the King of Hell. Crowley wiggled his fingers at Kurt, and blew him a kiss. “You’re finally recognized as a threat,” he raised a glass in a toast. “Mazel tov.”
“You saying it’s scared of us?” Sam asked, incredulous.
“Should be” Dean muttered. “We’re gonna kick its ass.”
“No,” Bobby said, coming out of the house. He handed Puck and Kurt each a shotgun, and a small pouch of shells. “It’s not afraid; it’s just smart enough to exert a little effort.” Bobby looked at Crowley and scowled. “Your reinforcements?”
“Already in place,” Crowley said. “I’ve got my demons guarding the perimeter.” There was a deep growl from the empty space next to Crowley and Kurt saw Sam and Dean both flinch away. Kurt stepped back as Crowley placed his hand on the air--at his shoulder? “And of course, my babies are dying for a little action.”
“Speaking of action,” Puck said. “Where’s Gabriel?”
“Here,” Gabriel said. Kurt turned; Gabriel was sitting on the roof of the porch, feet dangling off the edge. Kurt wondered how long he had been sitting there, if he had just gotten there or had been there all along, hidden from sight.
“You ready?” Sam called up.
“I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?” Gabriel grumbled. “I hate this kind of fighting. I prefer a more personal approach.”
“You mean you like to trick and run away,” Dean said.
“Of course,” Gabriel grinned. “Much more fun. I--” Gabriel paused, sitting up straight. “I have to go.”
“What?” Sam said.
“I’m being called.” Gabriel’s voice was odd; strained and distant, and without a sound, he disappeared.
“Well that’s just great,” Crowley said. “He’s always had shit timing.”
“What are we going to do?” Kurt said. Gabriel was their trump card. Without him--they had nothing.
“You could try prayer, if you really want,” Crowley snarked.
“We hope they don’t attack until Gabriel gets back,” Sam said, trying to interject some calm. “And if they do, that we can hold them off.”
There was a scream, a barely human howl, and the sound of crunching bones. It came from the far west corner of the property, and everyone spun towards the sound.
“Fuck me,” Puck muttered as the sound spread down the line like dominoes. Faster than Kurt thought possible, the sound had surrounded the property. He adjusted the grip on his gun, muscle memory checking over the weapon.
“Here,” Puck said, and handed Kurt a machete in a sheath. Kurt strapped it to his back, checking that it was low enough to pull free with ease. Puck grabbed another from the pile on the stairs, and slung it over his shoulder. Puck looked up, eyes meeting Kurt’s.
This was a moment, Kurt knew, that was ripe for drama; a stirring speech, a poignant admission, a witty one-liner, a music swell culminating in a kiss--but those screams weren't music, and there were no words left to say.
“So here’s the plan,” Bobby said. “Don’t die.”
“Good plan,” Puck said.
“They’ve got numbers, but we’ve got the home field advantage,” Bobby said. “We’re gonna try to keep them outside the fence for as long as possible, but once they break through, stay out of the open. And remember, shooting them will slow them down, cutting their heads off will stop them, but it’s only temporary. The farther away the head goes, the longer it’ll be down.”
The screaming stopped.
Kurt froze. There was absolute silence; no voices, no animals, not even wind. The hellhound next to Crowley growled like the rumble of a speeding train when one’s stuck on the tracks. Puck pressed close against Kurt’s side, and Kurt reached grabbed Puck’s hand tight in his own.
The hellhound quieted. Kurt had the sudden hope that maybe, just maybe, the demons were enough. His heart beat wildly; he was very aware of the sweat on his face, down the back of his neck, pooling at the base of his spine. It seemed such a small thing to notice, but there it was, getting ever more present, but Kurt couldn’t move to wipe his face, to rub his neck, to press a hand to the small of his back. Kurt couldn’t move--he couldn’t--
Wrenching metal screamed through the silence, and with a sound like the end of the world, Leviathan rammed the gates.