A Midnight Song

All previous disclaimers apply.

Author's Note: This is going to be a pretty short story. Just five chapters, so things will be moving very past. I hope not too fast to ruin the feeling of the story. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment. Happy Reading, T.H.


"Kurt, he really should be in a hospital." The voice was quiet, trying to veil a worry that couldn't be masked from Mike. It was so easy to read emotion in a human voice when you had been a wolf. And as a werewolf –God, he hated that term, but it was the best thing to describe him when he was more than human- his hearing was so keen that it was a simple thing, even through the fever that he could feel burning through his body, to understand every nuance in every word that was spoken by the sweet woman who was hovering over him. At least, he assumed she was sweet. He had come to partial awareness as she was cleaning his leg with what felt like fire. He'd wanted to scream, but had only been able to whimper. He'd wanted to pull away and roll over on his side to be violently sick, but his body had only had the energy to twitch slightly in protest. The woman had just stroked his hair gently and murmured reassurances even though she thought he was unconscious. She had come out to this cabin at least an hour from anything else and in the middle of a very dense forest to take care of a stranger just because her best friend had called her and told her that he had landed on his step, bleeding and nearly dead. And more than that, she was pregnant and she had come out alone. There was something familiar about her scent, but Mike couldn't place it.

"I understand that, Quinn," Kurt said, his voice just as quiet as hers as he held Mike's hand in his own and dabbed at his face with a cool, damp cloth. Mike wished he could moan or smile. He couldn't decide which. Because, Kurt, his angel, had taken a wounded, delirious, and completely naked man into his cabin, had tried to make him comfortable and clean him up and had called his best friend, the very pregnant doctor, to come and take care of said wounded, delirious, completely naked, possibly –probably- dying man. His angel had no sense of self preservation or the biggest heart of any human he had ever met. He thought that maybe it was both.

"I'm serious, Kurt," Quinn's voice snapped into a steel under velvet tone that Mike recognized because it was the same tone that Santana used when Brittany wanted something that wasn't going to be good for her, "He's dying, okay? There…I said it. His leg is infected and his fever is way beyond what I can help here. You have to let me take him to a hospital."

"You gave him the penicillin shot, Quinn. It's going to have to be good enough." Kurt dabbed the cloth on his upper chest and squeezed his hand.

"Why are you being like this?" Quinn finally raised her voice.

"Quinn," Kurt's hands left him and Mike wished he could express his displeasure, but he assumed that Kurt had taken Quinn's hands in his own and if it could convince Quinn that Mike needed to stay here he was all for it. His angel was perceptive. Already he trusted him with his very life, "He appeared on my door in the middle of the woods, completely naked, and with his leg torn up by an old hunter's trap. There's obviously something going on here. He…wants…needs to stay anonymous."

"How do you know that?" Quinn asked. Mike wanted to know the answer, too, and listened more intently.

"The same way you know that the father of your baby would have stayed with you if he could have." Kurt's answer was quiet and Mike wanted to hear more about the father of Quinn's baby, but Quinn had given him more than just an antibiotic, he thought, and with his heightened metabolism it was already kicking in.

He fell asleep.

The next time he woke, before he opened his eyes, he knew that he and Kurt were alone in the cabin. And Kurt had just taken a bath. He smelled clean and fresh, like lavender and roses. And he was singing. His voice was light and beautiful as he moved around the one room cabin. He was singing about birds and flowers and feeling good and it made Mike feel stronger. Strong enough to open his eyes. He moaned lightly at the pain that shot up his leg when he accidently shifted it and frowned when the singing stopped.

"You're awake." The voice reached him just a second before his angel was hovering over him as he had been that first night. Mike took a better look at the man who had saved his life. It had been hard to see anything but his bright eyes when he had been backlit in the dark night, but now Mike could see everything and what he saw took his breath away. His angel was pale like the moon with bright eyes –Even in this light he couldn't tell if they were green or blue. He wondered if he'd ever be able to- and rich, sable hair that was, at the moment, a little damp and falling in his eyes. He looked younger than he was according to the wisdom and life in his eyes. There was a pain behind them that Mike wished he could do something to erase as the pretty lips, the lower one fuller than the upper- turned up at the corners in a slight smile.

"I'm awake," Mike agreed, and would have slapped himself on the forehead if he'd felt stronger, and blinked slowly.

"You're alive," Kurt's smile widened.

"You're Kurt," Mike responded. Kurt's smile fell a little.

"How did you know that?"

"I heard you and your friend, Quinn, talking when she was patching me up. I couldn't sleep through the pain."

"She wasn't sure you would come through. You shouldn't have come through. Your fever was at one hundred and three at its highest. You should have died."

Mike considered saying, "I'm just unique like that, baby," but decided that that was his inner Puck speaking and decided on, "You're right. I should have."

"I'm glad you didn't," Kurt admitted shyly.

"Me, too."

"Are you thirsty? Hungry? You've been out for three days almost."

"Some water would be nice, please."

He tried to sit up as Kurt went to get a glass and was thrilled when he could, despite the way the pain shooting up and down his leg made him feel nauseous. He finally settled against the headboard of the bed and bit back a sharp cry as he adjusted his wounded leg. The sweat pouring down his face and the way he could barely keep himself upright against the pillows and the wall of the cabin were testament to just how weak he was. He was glad Kurt didn't try to stop him or help him in anyway. He once again thought that his angel was very perceptive for a human. He knew that Mike wanted, needed, to do it on his own. It was a matter of pride, but it was a relief when he came over and wiped Mike's face down with a cool cloth without a word before going back to the sink to get the water.

Mike took that time, while his leg throbbed, to study the cabin. It was bigger than he had thought at first. The queen size bed was pushed into the corner farthest from the door. There was a full kitchen in one corner. The couch in front of the large fireplace and the large dining room set were both new and expensive. There was art decorating the walls and if Mike's eyes weren't fooling him, they were all originals. The only other room had to be a bathroom and Mike was willing to bet that it held a full tub and probably a vanity. Kurt didn't seem like the type not to keep expensive product and lotion around. His complexion was too perfect and the smells were subtle enough that Mike knew the lotions had to be expensive. There was a lot of money put into this small cabin, especially considering there was running water and electricity this far out into the forest. Either Kurt made a lot or someone who cared a lot about him did. Or both. Mike smiled at him as he crossed the room with a glass of water. Puck would have called him a 'prissy miss' if he saw the expensive clothes and the way Kurt walked, so graceful, so quiet, but to Mike he was perfect.

"Here," Kurt sat on the edge of the bed and handed Mike the tall glass of water. They both laughed a little when Mike's fingers were still too weak to hold the glass and he almost dropped it. Kurt took the glass back and held it to Mike's lips. They never took their eyes off of each other as he sipped slowly. Mike could feel his heart speeding up and he watched the color rise to Kurt's cheeks and knew that he was feeling it, too.

Was this it? Was this what Santana had felt the first time she saw Brittany? Was this what Puck had run from after the night with the girl he had never spoken of again?

"Where have you been sleeping?" He asked.

"On the couch," Kurt answered.

"You…uh…you don't have to."

"No…" Kurt took Mike's hand, "I guess I don't. What's your name?"

"Mike," He answered automatically, "Mike Chang."

"I'm Kurt Hummel."

"Hello, Kurt." They smiled at each other.

It felt so right, so natural, when, an hour later after a shared meal of soup that Kurt had to feed him, they laid side by side in the bed. Mike reached across the sheets for Kurt's hand and smiled when he found Kurt doing the same. They both laughed quietly and Kurt turned onto his side to wrap his arm around Mike's waist and lay his head on his shoulder. Mike wrapped his arm around Kurt and dared to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Is this okay?" Kurt asked quietly.

"I don't know," Mike answered honestly, "But, it feels right."

"Yes it does." Kurt agreed. It only took a few minutes for Kurt to fall asleep and Mike was just allowing himself to be calmed by Kurt's deep even breaths when the mournful howling started and his heart clenched.

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, willing himself to shift, even just a little. Tears began to roll down his cheeks when, still, nothing happened. What was he going to do if he never got to run with the pack again? He had never considered being fully human. The wolf was a part of who he was. He loved being a wolf. His only happy times had been as a wolf. What would he do if he was stuck in a human body for the rest of his natural life? What would he do if he never got to run through a forest with Brittany again or curl up with Santana on a winter's night or wrestle with Puck in a meadow just because they could? They were his family and they would always love him, but their truest nature, and his, was to be a wolf. He knew that if he could never shift again he would lose them to their nature and he would forever yearn to be running with them.

Then, he looked down at Kurt. What would he do if he never got to see Kurt's smile again? What would he do if he never got to hold Kurt again? How much would he regret if he never got to make love to Kurt?

His pack or the human he knew was his true mate. Which would he choose if it ever came down to it? He had never hated himself more than when he realized that he didn't have an answer to the question.