BEFORE! // kurt cobain

five

Tracy woke and looked next to her to find that she had fallen asleep on Kurt on her couch. She wasn't upset at all, not even worried. All she did was smile. They had played Monopoly, Uno, and watched Wheel of Fortune up until about five in the morning. It wasn't until five-thirty that they had collapsed onto the couch. It was now nine in the morning and Tracy couldn't fight the urge that she was supposed to be making breakfast or something. She looked at Kurt again, analyzing all his facial features. For some reason, even though his eyes were closed, she could still see his bright lagoon eyes.

For the first time in decades, Tracy finally felt like this was somebody she could just lounge with and he wouldn't mind being with her in the house doing nothing. In order for her to get up, she had to somehow maneuver around Kurt's arms without waking him. She slowly got up and kept inching back towards the floor until she fell back first off the couch.
"Fuck." Tracy tried her hardest to whisper, but Kurt had already jolted up to see her lying on the floor.

"T, what the hell? Are you okay?" Kurt got up and tried to help her off the floor, but she refused to get up. She felt paralyzed from numerous things at the moment: Her back actually hitting the hardwood floor and Kurt's voice in the morning. Kurt's voice laced with worry, "Hey if you can't get up, I can call nine-one-one." Her eyes widened and she sat up instantly, she had a phobia of hospitals and she wasn't gonna tell Kurt why this early into their relationship, or whatever the hell they're doing.

Kurt rubbed soothing circles on Tracy's back trying his best to numb her pain. He was new to this whole concept of caring for another person, especially a girl. He didn't hate it, he was just surprised at how great it somewhat felt to be obligated to protect another person from harm. As he kept on with her back, Tracy had her face lying sideways on his lap due to the fact that she was still on the floor. "Kurt?" "Yeah?"

"I have some waffles in the fridge, if you would like some." "Waffles? Hell yes."
Tracy proceeded to get up, but she was stopped by Kurt. "You gotta use the bathroom or something?"
"No, I'm gonna go make you your waffles."
Kurt looked at her with disbelief, "Tracy, this isn't 1945 where you're expected to make me breakfast before I wake."

There was a pause of small laughter and then Kurt spoke again. "Sit up here on the couch, turn the T.V. on and watch whatever. I will go make breakfast."
Kurt smiled at her and wandered off into the kitchen.
Not long after he was yelling for Tracy's toaster. "T, where's your toaster?"

Tracy grinned to herself, "Top shelf, but two cabinets over."
Kurt shuffled around, heaving the toaster to the counter and dropping in four waffles, two for each of them.
"Should I whip up some eggs, too?" he called.
"Do whatever. I'm sure it'll be great!"
She wasn't sure, obviously. It's not every day a fascinating stranger made her breakfast.
Alarm bells that she knew should have come earlier rang in her ears.
How the hell had she even gotten to this point in her life?
Could she even trust him?
For fuck's sake, their encounter at the bar had lasted two minutes at most, the guy had come to her window at the early hours of the morning specifically asking around her neighborhood for her in particular, and now he was making her breakfast.
What if he put something in it? What if everything they'd talked about last night had just been a ploy?
What if he was like every guy she'd ever met, only interested in the cherry grove between her legs?
She wrung her hands.
What if she was just overreacting?
She sunk back down into the couch, trying to ease her anxieties. She flipped on The Andy Griffith Show, hoping to keep her mind off everything and numb herself to all the noise in the kitchen.
A few minutes in, Kurt carried in two plates, mainly full of eggs, extending one out to her.
She gingerly took it and set it on her lap.
When Kurt saw the TV, his eyes lit up. "You like this show, too?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
He gave an agreeing smirk and began to eat his eggs.
With his mouth full, he said, "I wrote a song about Floyd, you know."
"You write songs?"
"Yeah, if you ever wanna hear them, my buddy Krist and I have written loads," he mumbled shyly.
"I'll gladly take you up on that offer." she smiled and continued eating her toast.