Fic: A Crash Course In Falling 3/6 (Glee, Kurt/Puck, NC17)
Title: A Crash Course In Falling 3/6
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Puck (Kurt/Blaine)
Rating: NC17
Word count: 51,000+ overall; ~10,000 for this part
Summary: When people can’t see what’s standing right in front of them, sometimes the universe resorts to drastic measures. This is one of those times. So AU. So, so AU. Also, wingfic.
Dinner is weird, mainly due to the fact that it’s so normal. Well, except for the part where Finn spends the entire meal staring at Puck like he’s the one with wings, but other than that, it all feels almost…natural. Like Puck belongs there, and as hard as he tries to convince himself it’s just because Puck’s been hanging around so much all summer, Kurt knows it’s not true.
They spend the rest of the night hanging out in the living room with Finn, Kurt in his usual spot while they take turns killing each other in more and more violent ways in the game. But it feels different somehow, maybe because Kurt’s fairly sure that Puck plans on spending the night in his room instead of Finn’s. That’s where his things are, anyway, still sitting on the floor next to Kurt’s desk as though they belong there.
As though he belongs here, and the fact that his dad’s allowing it isn’t even the weirdest part.
They stay up later than normal, until all three of them are yawning and fighting to keep their eyes open. None of them wants to be the first to suggest they get some sleep, but it has to happen sometime, so finally Kurt stands up and stretches his wings and announces that he’s going to bed.
When he glances toward the couch Puck’s eyes are on him, watching his wings unfurl and flap silently against his shoulders. Kurt blushes and pulls them back in, then he crosses the living room and heads for the stairs without waiting to see if Puck’s going to follow.
Instead he brushes his teeth and washes his face, then he changes into a clean pair of pajama bottoms. When he opens the bathroom door Puck’s standing next to his bed, duffel bag sitting on the edge and rifling through the contents. Kurt glances toward his bedroom door to find Finn standing there, and when Puck notices he turns to look at Finn too.
“Dude, what?”
“Nothing,” Finn answers. “Just…see you tomorrow, I guess.”
Kurt understands how strange this must be for him. He knows Finn’s not a hundred percent comfortable with Kurt being gay, though he’s made pretty amazing strides in the past two years. But it has to be a bit of shock to see Kurt and Puck together, and even though nothing’s going on aside from a lot of heavy petting, it probably looks pretty suspicious from the outside.
It looks a little weird from where Kurt’s standing, too, and he laughs to himself before he can stop it. Thankfully Finn’s already gone, which means Puck’s the only one around to look at him like maybe he’s starting to lose it. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Kurt answers, watching Puck pull sweatpants and his toothbrush out of his bag before he adds, “it’s just that I can’t imagine you ever expected to find yourself sharing a bed with me.”
Puck looks down at his bag again, frowning at it for a few moments as though it’s offended him somehow. When he looks up again his shoulders are tense, and Kurt’s wings flutter unhappily.
“Yeah, I guess,” is all Puck says, then he crosses the room and shuts himself in Kurt’s bathroom.
Kurt knows it was the wrong thing to say, but he doesn’t know why. He has a feeling Finn might, and it’s tempting to head down the hall and ask him. But he’s not sure Finn will tell him the truth, and things are already weird enough without dragging his stepbrother into it.
Instead he crosses the room and shuts the door, leaning against it for a few seconds with his forehead pressed against cool wood. He has no idea what he’s doing, why he can’t just tell Puck to go sleep on Finn’s floor like he usually does. It would be better for both of them if he did, but he knows he’s not going to.
The bathroom door opens and he turns around, swallowing hard at the sight of Puck in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. They ride low on his hips, Puck’s abs on full display and Kurt blinks and drags his gaze up to Puck’s face. His eyes are dark, and when he reaches down and pulls the covers back, Kurt flushes and shuts off the light.
His legs feel like lead, and he’s not sure he can make them carry him all the way across the room. Then Puck slides between the sheets and looks over at him again, and Kurt’s wings flap so wildly they actually propel him forward. He feels his face burning and he’s glad he turned off the light so Puck won’t see. He finds himself next to the bed without any real idea how he got there, and when Puck pulls the sheet back for him Kurt sits down hard on the edge of the mattress.
And he’s not some virgin, but it would almost be easier if this was about sex. If he knew what Puck wanted from him, but Kurt still has no idea why he’s even here.
He stretches out on the cool sheets, rolling onto his stomach and tucking one arm under his pillow. He turns to face Puck, heart skipping a beat when he finds Puck propped up on one elbow and watching him. Just...looking, as though he thinks Kurt’s worth looking at.
Finally he stretches out on his back, and Kurt’s not sure whether he’s disappointed or relieved that Puck’s not planning to touch him. Then a hand slides across the space between them, catching Kurt’s hand where it’s resting on the mattress, and when Puck slides their fingers together Kurt doesn’t ask what he thinks he’s doing. He doesn’t want to admit how much he wants Puck to touch him, but somehow Puck seems to know anyway.
Kurt should be embarrassed at how transparent he is. How needy he is, but he’s tired and he feels guilty about Blaine and he can’t bring himself to care if Puck knows how much he needs this. So he curls his fingers around Puck’s hand and holds on, and when Puck squeezes back, Kurt lets himself believe it means something.
~
When he wakes up the bed’s empty, and Kurt sits up in time to watch the bathroom door open. Puck’s wearing a pair of jeans and a black belt, chest bare and running a towel over his mohawk. When he spots Kurt he drops the towel over his shoulder, then he crosses to his bag to fish out a shirt.
“Where are you going?” Kurt blurts out, cringing as soon as the words escape him. Because it’s none of his business what Puck does with his time, but the thought of him leaving without so much as a goodbye makes his wings flutter anxiously.
“Finn has to swing by the recruiter to sign those papers. I said I’d go with.”
“Oh,” Kurt says, though what he thinks is, don’t go. He doesn’t want Puck anywhere near the recruiter, not if he’s still thinking about signing papers of his own. But he doesn’t have any right to ask that of Puck, so he keeps his mouth shut and watches Puck pull his McKinley Football shirt over his head.
“You okay?” Puck asks once he’s dressed, and Kurt flushes when he realizes he’s been staring.
“Of course,” Kurt lies, because it’s not like Puck can do anything about it. Kurt doesn’t have the right to ask him to stay, and he can’t invite himself along, no matter how much he might want to. Instead he stands up, intent on shutting himself in the bathroom until Puck and Finn are long gone.
He’s halfway there when a hand closes around his arm, and Kurt lets himself be pulled backwards. Puck’s free hand lands on his wing, stroking along the ridge before he digs his fingers into the feathers and carefully straightens a few that must have gotten ruffled in his sleep.
When Puck’s done he lets go, hands dropping to his sides and Kurt has to close his eyes for a moment before he speaks. “Thanks.”
“Any time,” Puck says, and this time when Kurt walks away, Puck lets him go.
When Kurt gets out of the shower Puck’s gone, but his bag’s still sitting on Kurt’s floor, so that means he’ll be back eventually. Kurt’s wings flutter restlessly at the thought, but he forces them back down and crosses to his dresser to pull out a couple drawers. Considering half his wardrobe has been rendered obsolete by his wings, Kurt figures the least he can do is consolidate some space and give Puck somewhere besides a duffel bag to store his clothes.
Not that he’s asked for space or even hinted at how long he’s staying, but even if it’s just for a few days, the least Kurt can do is try to be a good host. It gives him something to do, anyway, and by the time he hears the front door, he’s not only emptied a drawer for Puck, but rearranged his entire closet.
When he hears footsteps on the stairs Kurt’s pulse picks up speed, and he’s trying to figure out how to look like he’s not waiting for Puck when he finally appears in the doorway. He’s holding a cup Kurt recognizes instantly from the Lima Bean, and when Puck grins and crosses the room to hand it over, Kurt’s jaw drops.
“You brought me coffee?”
Puck shrugs, then his grin turns sort of sheepish, and Kurt has to remind himself that he’s not allowed to lean forward and kiss him. “I heard you bitching to Finn the other day about not being able to go out for your fix anymore.”
Kurt looks down at the cup wrapped in his hands, breathing in the tell-tales scents of coffee and chocolate. “Is this…? How did you know my order?”
“I just described you to the guy behind the counter and he knew exactly who I was talking about. I think that’s a sign of a serious addiction, dude.”
Kurt laughs, lifting the cup to hide his pleased smile as he takes a tentative sip. He hasn’t had a decent mocha since the last time Mercedes came by, bearing gifts to soften the blow of having to say goodbye without even being able to hug him. A sob catches Kurt by surprise, and he presses his hand to his mouth and closes his eyes.
“Kurt? Shit,” Puck says, then his hands are on Kurt, touching his face and then his neck. “Did I fuck up your order or something?”
“No,” Kurt answers, drawing a shaky breath and pressing forward into Puck’s warmth. He doesn’t even think about what he’s doing, but when Puck’s arms go around him to pull him close, Kurt figures he doesn’t mind. “This was surprisingly thoughtful of you, Puck. Thanks.”
“It’s just coffee,” Puck says, but he doesn’t let go. Kurt sniffs against his shoulder again, then he lifts his head far enough to look at Puck.
“I cleared out the top drawer of the dresser for you. If you’re staying awhile I thought it would be easier than living out of a gym bag.”
“Yeah?” Puck says, glancing toward the dresser in question before he turns back to smile at Kurt. “Thanks.”
“It’s just a drawer,” Kurt says, blushing when Puck huffs a soft laugh.
His wings flutter and Puck glances at them, one hand coming up to brush the spot where they meet his back. Kurt bites his lip at the sensation, willing his body not to react to the combination of Puck’s hands on him and the warmth of his body pressed against Kurt. It’s a losing battle, but when Puck’s other hand slides into his hair and he leans in a little, Kurt forgets to care.
He forgets about the coffee clutched in his hand, forgets about everything he’s lost in the past two months, and he even forgets to wonder why Puck’s doing this. All he knows is that Puck’s about to kiss him, and there’s no way in the world Kurt’s going to stop him.
Which is exactly the reason his stepbrother chooses that moment to shout down the hall.
“Hey, you guys want to order a pizza or something? Oh,” Finn says, and Kurt glances toward the door to find him standing there.
Puck swears under his breath and lets go of Kurt, taking a deep breath before he turns to look at Finn. “Yeah, sure, dude. Just give me a couple minutes.”
“Yeah, okay,” Finn answers, but he doesn’t move from the doorway. Instead he stands there watching Puck pick his bag up off the floor and drop it on the bed, pulling a stack of t-shirts out and carrying them across the room to the dresser.
For a moment Kurt stands them watching them both, but when he realizes Finn’s not going to leave them alone again he rolls his eyes and slides past Finn into the hall. “Fine, I’ll call. But don’t complain when all you get is vegetables.”
It takes a second for his words to penetrate whatever stupor Finn’s fallen into, but when he finally realizes what Kurt’s said he turns away from the sight of Puck moving into Kurt’s room. “Wait, what? Kurt, wait up,” he calls, hurrying down the stairs to catch Kurt before he gets to the menu drawer.
Kurt digs the menu for the pizza place out of the drawer and hands it over, then he leans against the counter and sips his mocha while he listens to Finn order two large pizzas with half a cow and an entire pig on them. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t complain, mostly because he knows that soon enough he’s not going to have to fight Finn for the right to choose the toppings anymore.
Everyone’s moving on, it seems, and Kurt…he’s stuck in Lima with an incurable medical condition and no real prospects for any kind of future. That is, unless he wants to join the circus. At least it would be performing, he thinks, frowning down at his coffee until Finn hangs up the phone.
“Why did you tell Puck not to visit me in the hospital?”
Finn looks up, eyes going wide, then he glances over his shoulder to make sure Puck’s not lurking in the doorway. “He told you that?”
“At the time he thought I’d asked you to.”
Finn has the grace to blush, at least, then he sighs and crosses the room to pull a soda out of the fridge. “Come on, bro, you know how Puck is.”
Kurt frowns, because he really doesn’t. Before graduation he hadn’t paid much attention, and now…the Puck he’s gotten to know over the past few weeks is nothing like the one he expected.
“And how is that, exactly?”
“He gets, like, obsessed.” Finn glances toward the door to make sure the coast is still clear, then he sinks into a chair and looks up at Kurt. “I know I was pissed about the whole Quinn thing for a long time, but he’s still my best friend. When he thinks he’s in love or whatever he goes all in. It’s like an obsession. Look how long he put up with Lauren’s bullshit.”
Kurt wasn’t paying much attention to Puck then either, but he vaguely remembers Puck following Lauren around, looking more like a big, dumb puppy than the bully Kurt thought he knew and loathed.
“So you’re saying Puck thinks he’s in love…with me?”
Kurt expects a laugh, maybe a ‘don’t be crazy, dude’ or a ‘Puck’s not gay’. But all he gets is a shrug, then Finn’s glancing over his shoulder again before he turns back and lowers his voice.
“All I know is he started asking a lot of questions as soon as you landed in the hospital. I just thought it would be a bad idea to encourage him or whatever. You’re with Blaine, and you’d probably never go for a guy like Puck anyway, and I just didn’t want him getting his heart broken and doing something stupid.”
“Like joining the Army,” Kurt says before he even realizes he’s thinking it, and when Finn winces he knows it’s true.
“He told you about that, too, huh? You guys sure have been talking a lot.”
“That’s all we’ve been doing, not that it’s any of your business,” Kurt says, raising an eyebrow when Finn opens his mouth to protest. Except it’s not exactly true, and Kurt’s almost positive that if Finn hadn’t interrupted them earlier, they wouldn’t be doing much talking right now.
Then again, maybe they should do some more talking, because Kurt’s still not convinced that all of this isn’t some weird shared delusion brought on by Kurt’s wings. They flutter indignantly at the thought, but Kurt rolls his eyes and ignores them.
Before Finn comes up with a reply they hear Puck’s footsteps on the stairs, and it shouldn’t matter, because he’s the same person Kurt left in his bedroom ten minutes ago. He’s the same person Kurt shared a bed with last night, and the night before that, but somehow knowing that Puck has feelings for him makes a difference.
His heart races when Puck walks into the kitchen, and he clutches the coffee cup to his chest and hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. When Puck grins at him his wings flap against the sink, and his whole face flushes when Puck laughs.
“Dude, we playing or what?” Puck asks, dragging his gaze away from Kurt long enough to look at Finn.
“Yeah, okay,” Finn says, but he’s still glancing between Puck and Kurt like he’s trying to figure out if he’s interrupting something.
Puck just snorts another laugh and heads for the fridge, helping himself to a Coke before he follows Finn into the living room. When they get there Finn starts to claim his spot on the couch, but Puck kicks his shin and nods toward the chair where Kurt usually sits. Finn frowns but moves over, then Puck holds out a hand for Kurt and pulls him down onto the couch.
It’s a little strange, curling against Puck’s side to watch them play, cuddled up against him as though they’re...something. Then again, they are something, even if neither of them have admitted it yet. He can feel it every time Puck touches him, feels the energy pulsing under his skin and the thrum of the connection between them. He’s pretty sure Puck can feel it too, that he felt it yesterday when Blaine touched him and that he feels it now, even when they’re just pressed together on the couch.
They spend the whole afternoon that way, Kurt curled against him and watching while they play. By the time his dad and Carole get home to make dinner the energy’s practically humming in his veins, and it seems like the most natural thing in the world to lean over and kiss Puck. He stops himself just in time, mainly because Finn’s been looking pretty confused all afternoon, and Kurt doesn’t want to short-circuit his brain and render him unable to serve his country.
He has no idea how he makes it through dinner. He doesn’t remember what movie they settle on that evening, either; all he remembers is being relegated to his chair so more people can sit on the couch than just him and Puck, and the weird looks his dad casts in his direction when his wings flutter every time Puck laughs.
They spend the whole night hanging out with Kurt’s family, and the weird thing is that it feels normal. It feels as though Puck belongs here, and not just because he’s been Finn’s best friend for as long as Kurt’s known them. It doesn’t even feel that strange to say goodnight to his dad and his stepmom and go upstairs with Puck, even though they all know he won’t be spending the night on Finn’s floor.
Kurt’s stomach flutters at the thought - his wings too - and he blushes when he catches Puck smirking at him. A hand lands in the center of his back, stroking the skin just below his wings, and Kurt gasps before he can stop himself. When they get to his room Kurt expects Puck to shut the door and pull him close, but instead he lets go of Kurt and heads for his drawer to pull out a pair of sweats.
Kurt lets him have the bathroom first, and by the time he finishes brushing his teeth and changing into his pajamas Puck’s stretched out in Kurt’s bed with his arms folded behind his head. Like he’s waiting, and Kurt’s wings flap hard against his shoulders as he crosses to the bed and climbs onto the mattress.
He slides under the sheet next to Puck, turning onto his side to study Puck’s profile in the darkness. “What did the recruiter say?”
Puck shrugs against the pillow, then he turns onto his side to face Kurt. “Not much. I told you, he just wanted Finn to sign some papers.”
Kurt’s pretty sure it’s a lie, but he doesn’t call Puck on it. Instead he nods and inches a little closer, his wings fluttering behind him as though they’re trying to propel him forward even while one of them is more or less trapped against the mattress.
Puck’s hand lands on his hip, easing Kurt toward him. “Come on, turn over.”
So Kurt does, blushing and stretching out on his stomach to let Puck run a hand along the ridge of his right wing. It stretches under his touch, flapping once, and Puck sucks in a breath and lets his fingers slide through the soft feathers.
“What’s it feel like?”
“Do you mean when you touch them?” Kurt asks, his face flushing even brighter red, because it’s one thing if Puck knows what he’s doing to Kurt, but it’s another thing to make him say it.
“I meant having them in the first place,” Puck answers, but Kurt can tell by the way he says it that Puck knows exactly what Kurt’s thinking.
“What does it feel like, having a completely useless set of wings?” Kurt sighs against the pillow and pushes himself up on his elbows, pushing Puck’s hand a little lower in the process. “I suppose I should be grateful that they stopped hurting after I figured out how to walk with them. I still forget they’re there sometimes, but then they start with their ridiculous flapping for no good reason.”
Puck smirks at him, hand sliding up the center of Kurt’s back to rest at the sensitive spot where wings meet skin. “Yeah, sometimes I can tell what you’re thinking by the way they move. Guess that means they’re not totally useless.”
Kurt’s laugh trails off into a choked sort of gasp when Puck’s fingers dig into the soft feathers close to his shoulder blade. His wings are sensitive - of course his wings are sensitive - but until Puck touched them for the first time he had no idea just how sensitive they could be. Each spot Puck finds is more responsive than the last, and when he runs his thumb along the underside of the ridge, Kurt bites down hard to hold back a moan.
“You like that?” Puck asks, voice low and husky and too close to Kurt’s ear, and there’s no way Kurt’s getting out of this with his dignity intact.
His wings betray him by fluttering softly, spreading just enough to let Puck’s hand sink even deeper into the soft down at the base of his feathers. Puck laughs in the darkness, the sound going straight to Kurt’s dick, and he fights not to move his hips against the mattress.
“Guess your wings like it, anyway,” Puck says, like he knows, and Kurt buries his face in the pillow so he won’t have to look at Puck while he dies of humiliation.
“Puck,” he murmurs, and he’s planning to tell Puck to stop, he really is, but the word comes out more like a moan than a warning.
He feels the mattress shift, then Puck’s hand is sliding down the center of his back, hot against Kurt’s skin and when he feels Puck’s lips brush against his shoulder, Kurt can’t hold back a gasp. His wings are stretched wide behind him, lifting as though they’re making room for Puck to move closer.
So he does, his mouth brushing Kurt’s cheek this time, then the soft skin just below his ear. He hears Puck whisper his name, and he knows he should make Puck stop, make him listen to reason, because this isn’t fair to either of them. But Puck’s hand is on his hip, nudging him gently until Kurt folds his wings close enough to turn on his side. When he does Puck’s looking at him, eyes dark and searching Kurt’s face like he’s looking for the answer to a question he hasn’t asked.
His arm’s around Kurt’s waist, bare chests pressed together and Kurt feels the pull of want in the base of his stomach. It’s not the first time, but it’s the first time it’s felt like this, as though there’s some invisible force drawing them together. Or not so invisible, Kurt thinks when his wings flutter impatiently behind him, then he pushes forward and kisses Puck hard.
Puck lets out a noise that could be surprise against Kurt’s mouth, and Kurt has a moment of panic where he thinks maybe he’s read this entire situation all wrong, but when he starts to pull away Puck’s grip tightens to hold him in place. His lips part under Kurt’s, tongue sliding along his bottom lip and dragging a gasp out of him, and as soon as Kurt’s mouth opens Puck pushes his tongue past Kurt’s teeth.
His hand slides up to grip Kurt’s wing joint where it meets his back, and Kurt lets out a helpless moan and arches back into the touch. He hears Puck’s low chuckle, feels it vibrate against his chest, but before Kurt has a chance to be embarrassed Puck’s moving again, rolling onto his back and pulling Kurt with him until he’s sprawled across Puck’s chest.
Until his wings are free, and when Puck strokes his other hand along the tip of Kurt’s left wing, he feels them vibrate with pleasure. Puck breaks the kiss to look up at him, his expression open and raw in a way Kurt hasn’t seen since that whole mess with Quinn and their baby. Then again, he hasn’t really been paying much attention to Puck this whole time, and according to Finn, he’s missed a lot.
Kurt reaches up to curve his hand around Puck’s cheek, thumb dragging along stubble and just looking, his heart pounding so hard he’s sure Puck can feel it. Sure Puck can tell how terrified he is that none of this is real, that he’s going to wake up any second and be alone with his wings and the aching in his chest that only goes away when Puck’s touching him.
“Don’t tell me to stop,” Puck says, and he sounds desperate, as though he’s been thinking about kissing Kurt for a long time.
Kurt shakes his head and slides his thumb along Puck’s bottom lip, then he presses forward and kisses Puck again. Puck moans against his mouth and pushes his fingers into the downy feathers where Kurt’s wing meets his back, tugging just hard enough to make his wings stretch out behind him. And Kurt didn’t even know he could do that, so he doesn’t know how Puck figured it out, but he doesn’t bother to ask.
Nothing about this surprises him anymore, not even the fact that Puck seems to have developed psychic powers when it comes to Kurt’s wings. They flap once, wildly, then they start to vibrate again, and when Kurt lets out a helpless moan Puck grips his hips and drags him close until Kurt’s stretched out between his legs.
It shouldn’t surprise him that Puck’s hard, but Kurt gasps anyway, arching forward before he can stop himself to slide their cocks together. Puck moans and lets go of his wings to slide his hand down Kurt’s back, then he grips Kurt’s ass to rock them together.
Kurt’s done this before, but with Blaine it was usually sweet and slow, soft touches and breathy gasps and kisses that went on forever. Puck’s hands are anything but soft, his kisses are rough and urgent and the sounds he’s making let Kurt know exactly how much he wants this. His fingers bite into Kurt’s skin to drag him closer, teeth grazing Kurt’s jaw and then his neck as Puck sucks a mark into pale skin.
He clutches at Kurt like he can’t get close enough, rocking up helplessly in search of more friction, and it dawns on Kurt that this is likely the first time in years that Puck doesn’t really know what he’s doing in bed. The thought is terrifying, but his wings stretch and arc up over his shoulders at the thought, as though they’re proud of being Puck’s first something, which is just ridiculous, because it’s not like his wings are the ones with the experience here.
He tilts his head to find Puck’s mouth again, making soothing noises in his throat as he kisses Puck until he stops fighting for more. His hands press against the mattress on either side of Puck’s hips and he lifts up a little, just enough to look in Puck’s eyes.
“Can I…?” he asks, sliding a hand between them to grip the edge of Puck’s waistband, and Puck nods frantically and lets go of Kurt to push his sweatpants down his hips.
He’s not wearing any underwear; that’s no surprise, just like it’s not really a surprise that the stories about Puck are mostly true. The heat curling in the base of Kurt’s stomach tightens and he reaches out, wrapping a hand around Puck’s dick and stroking a few times. He’s not really an expert, and Puck’s probably had plenty of hand jobs before, but when Kurt ventures a glance at him Puck doesn’t look like he’s thinking about complaining.
His lips are parted and his fingers are curled around the sheet on either side of him, hips rocking up into Kurt’s grip and looking at Kurt like he’s the best thing Puck’s ever seen. Like he’s actually enjoying this, and Kurt figures it shouldn’t be a surprise that Puck’s flexible enough to take his pleasure where he can.
Still, he’s not expecting Puck to reciprocate, because there’s stroking his wings and there’s letting Kurt touch him, and okay, there’s even kissing, but touching Kurt’s dick is a whole different story. So he’s not surprised when Puck pushes up off the mattress, gripping Kurt’s hips and choking out, “wait.”
Kurt lets go of him automatically, ignores the choked sound Puck makes and the way his heart plummets into his stomach. He ignores the way his wings droop, too, because he’s the one who’s about to die of humiliation here, so they don’t get a vote.
But instead of pushing him off and making excuses, Puck pulls Kurt up onto his knees until he’s straddling Puck’s legs, then he grips his pajamas and yanks them down until Kurt’s cock springs free. His hands grip Kurt’s thighs to drag him closer, and when Kurt’s wings stretch to their full length and flap around him, Puck barks a surprised laugh.
“That’s so fucking hot,” he says, then he tugs Kurt forward, pressing their lips together and pushing his tongue past Kurt’s teeth to kiss him hard. His hand closes around Kurt’s cock, palm rough and just this side of too dry, but Kurt doesn’t care, because Puck’s touching him, and it feels more amazing than he ever thought it could.
Kurt’s own hand slides between them to grip Puck again, matching his rhythm until they’re rocking together, breathing the same air while Kurt’s wings beat around them. Puck nips at his bottom lip, tongue sliding out to soothe the sting and Kurt presses forward and kisses him again. His free hand rests on the back of Puck’s neck to keep him upright, fingers splayed and stroking little patterns in the base of his ridiculous mohawk.
And apparently Puck likes it, at least if the noises he’s making are anything to go by. He rocks up a little harder into Kurt’s grip, murmuring against Kurt’s mouth now, and when Kurt hears Puck say, “come on,” in the second before he pushes his fingers into the feathers at the center of Kurt’s back, Kurt lets out a cry and comes.
For a second Kurt’s frozen in place, hand still gripping Puck’s cock loosely as he tries to catch his breath. His wings are vibrating with pleasure, and when Puck strokes a soothing hand through the feathers Kurt chokes out another gasp.
He’s not prepared for his wings to be that sensitive; sure, they respond to Puck’s touch readily enough, but suddenly they’re too sensitive, and he moans and pushes forward to kiss Puck again. He lets go of Puck’s cock long enough to slide his palm through the come already cooling on his belly, then he grips Puck again and fists him harder than ever.
Puck moans low in his throat and rocks up into Kurt’s grip, tongue thrusting in and out of Kurt’s mouth in time with his strokes until finally he’s tensing and moaning Kurt’s name as he comes. When he comes down his hands aren’t buried in Kurt’s wings anymore, and Kurt can’t decide if it’s a relief or a disappointment.
He doesn’t have much time to think about it, though, because Puck’s pushing him up and off his lap, sliding down onto the mattress and dragging Kurt with him to kiss him again. It’s softer this time, slow and lazy and familiar in a way it probably shouldn’t be. But that’s just another one of those things that doesn’t really surprise Kurt anymore, so Kurt just kisses him back like this is exactly what they were made for.
His pajamas are still down around his thighs, but when Kurt pulls away to drag them back up, Puck’s hand reaches out to stop him. When Kurt looks up at him he grins, then he grasps the sides of Kurt’s pants and drags them down his legs to join Puck’s sweatpants where he’s already kicked them off.
Warm hands slide up his sides, tugging him forward until he’s stretched out next to Puck again, wings folded behind him and his ear pressed to Puck’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. Puck’s hand slides up his back under his wings, pressed to Kurt’s skin and stroking along his spine until Kurt sighs and settles a little further against him.
They still haven’t talked about any of this, about what Puck wants or where they go from here. Kurt has no idea if Puck is planning to stick around, or if he’s just helping Kurt adjust to his new life. There’s no way he’ll stick around forever; Kurt would never expect him to, not when he got dragged into this mess without his permission. But he’s here now, and even if it’s not for good, Kurt will take what he can get.
~
He wakes up to stifling heat, a heavy arm draped across his waist and Puck’s face pressed into the back of his neck. His wings are trapped between them, and it’s not uncomfortable, exactly, but Puck’s putting out enough heat to power a small engine. Kurt tries to squirm out from under his arm, but all it does is make Puck snort against his neck and clamp down even tighter on his waist.
Kurt rolls his eyes and covers Puck’s hand with his own, but when he tries to lift Puck’s arm, all that happens is Puck sliding their fingers together and huffing a hot breath against his skin. And it’s still too hot, but it’s kind of cute, too. Kurt never would have expected Puck to be a cuddler, though it’s no surprise that he’s aggressive about it.
He smiles to himself and flexes his wings a little, fluttering them softly against Puck’s chest. There’s not much room for them to move, but he feels Puck twitch behind him, so Kurt does it again. This time he shrugs his shoulders at the same time, letting the feathers at the tops of his left wing brush across Puck’s cheek.
There’s a disgruntled murmur near his ear, then the grip on his waist loosens and Puck pulls away far enough to let Kurt sit up. When he looks down Puck’s scrubbing a hand across his face, blinking sleepily and Kurt has half a mind to push him back down onto the mattress and kiss him again. Instead he watches while Puck slowly wakes up, frowning in the direction of Kurt’s wings as they flutter softly behind him.
“What the hell, babe?”
Kurt flushes at the term of endearment, but he’s not going to read anything into it. It’s probably just one of those things Puck says to whoever he happens to be sleeping with; it doesn’t mean anything, except that maybe Puck’s not going to climb out of bed and put as much distance as he can between them while he tells Kurt this was a mistake.
It’s a bigger relief than Kurt expects, and he takes a deep breath and reaches behind him to straighten the feathers he can reach so he doesn’t have to look at Puck. “You were crushing my feathers.”
He feels the mattress shift, then Puck’s sliding behind him and leaning in to brush his lips against the back of Kurt’s neck. “Sorry.”
“No harm done,” Kurt says, and when Puck reaches out to push his hand away from his feathers, Kurt doesn’t argue. Instead he lets Puck take over, eyes closed and head dropping forward as Puck carefully works his feathers back into place.
“Better?” Puck says after a few moments, but his fingers are still stroking Kurt’s feathers, tracing the ridges until Kurt’s wings spread wide and flap once.
Kurt nods and forces his eyes open, then he turns far enough to look over his shoulder at Puck. “Much. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Puck says, sliding a hand around the back of Kurt’s neck and pulling him forward to press their lips together. He tastes like stale sleep and Puck, and Kurt breathes in deep through his nose and turns into the kiss.
He shouldn’t want this. He aches for it, in his chest and his gut and even his wings. But even as he’s turning into Puck there’s a voice in the back of his head telling him to stop, that it’s not real and he’s only going to hurt more people in the end.
“Puck...”
He can hear the regret in his voice, and when Puck tenses against him Kurt knows he hears it too. Then Puck pulls away and Kurt feels it in his chest, has to fight to keep from reaching out and dragging him close again. But he can’t, not without making things even worse, so instead he keeps his hands to himself and ignores the way his feathers droop.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that...”
“Yeah, I get it,” Puck interrupts, already climbing off the bed and reaching for his sweatpants where they’re still lying on the floor. “I know I’m not your first choice here.”
Kurt opens his mouth to deny it, then closes it again when he realizes he doesn’t know what to say. The truth is that he doesn’t miss Blaine as much as he should; he hasn’t missed Blaine as much as he expected for the past few weeks now, and when he did come around it mostly ended in an argument. But Kurt feels like he should miss him -- he should miss them -- and the fact that there’s at least a part of him that really, really wants Puck makes him feel even worse.
“It’s not about being first choice,” he says instead, but when Puck looks at him he knows it was the wrong thing to say. But it’s true; if he could choose, knowing what he does now…well, he’s not entirely sure what choice he’d make. Even after a few days Puck’s gotten under his skin, and just watching him walk across Kurt’s room to shut himself in the bathroom makes Kurt’s chest feel too tight. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that Puck’s his only choice, and if that’s the only reason he’s here, Kurt would rather not choose at all.
He sighs and stands up to retrieve his pajamas from their spot on the floor, pulling them back on just in time for the bathroom door to open again. Kurt turns toward the sound, arms crossed over his chest and watching as Puck crosses the room again to dig a clean t-shirt out of his drawer.
“Puck…” he tries again, but he still has no idea what to say.
“It’s cool,” Puck says without looking at him. “I’m gonna go see what’s for breakfast.”
Before Kurt can come up with the right words to stop him Puck’s gone, and he’s only down in the kitchen, but Kurt still feels a little like he just ruined everything.
~
Puck leaves not long after breakfast. He barely looks at Kurt when he stands up and announces that he’s going out for awhile, and Kurt doesn’t ask where he’s going. It’s none of his business - even less now than it was when they woke up together - and anyway he’s not sure if he wants to know.
His wings aren’t happy about it; they spend most of the day moping, hanging listlessly at his back and refusing to so much as flutter at the opening strains of “Defying Gravity”. But he spends most of the day shut up in his room, so it’s not as though there’s anyone there to notice. Certainly not Puck, because dinner comes and goes and there’s still no sign of him.
Kurt spends most of the day trying not to think about all the places Puck might have gone, who he’s with and what they’re doing together. After all, Puck’s not the one who can’t touch other people, and just the thought is enough to turn Kurt’s stomach.
The longer he’s gone the worse Kurt feels; his feathers droop pathetically at his back, and the aching hole in his chest gets a little harder to ignore with each passing hour. He considers calling Puck, or maybe sending him a text to say I’m sorry and please come home. Except that it’s not Puck’s home, not really, and Kurt still doesn’t have the right to expect anything from him.
It doesn’t even make any sense, because he never felt like this before they figured out Puck could touch him. Or maybe he just didn’t notice, because he was so busy being miserable about his lost future that he didn’t realize there was something even bigger missing.
He’s been pushing his food around his plate since Carole coaxed him down to dinner, and he knows he’s doing a lousy job of convincing them not to worry about him. But he can’t help it, not when it’s been over eight hours since his…well, sort of argument with Puck, and he hasn’t gotten so much as a text.
“Everything okay, son?” his dad asks, and Kurt drags his gaze away from his mostly uneaten dinner and looks up at his father.
“Fine,” he lies, because it’s not fine, but there’s no way he can tell his dad that he had sex with Puck and then tried to take it back even though he didn’t really want to, and now Puck’s probably never going to speak to him again.
“I got a call from the doctor today,” his dad says, and something about the way he says it makes Kurt’s wings flutter nervously. His dad watches the motion for a second, then he clears his throat and shifts in his chair. “There’s this specialist he’s been talking to out in Seattle. He thinks he might be able to take care of your wings.”
“’Take care of’?” Kurt repeats, his wings folding flat against his back, and at least they’re not moping anymore.
“You know, remove them,” his dad says. “You’d still have the…other problem, but at least you wouldn’t have to worry so much about people seeing you.”
Kurt’s heart lurches at the thought, though he can’t tell if it’s hope or something else. For a second he wishes more than anything that Puck was here, but with or without wings, he still wouldn’t be able to touch anyone but Puck, so it doesn’t really matter.
“Would it be dangerous?”
His dad shrugs, glancing across the table at Carole, and Kurt knows him well enough to know that means the answer is yes.
“We’ll support you no matter what decision you make, honey,” Carole says, and when Kurt looks over at her she’s giving him that watery smile that means she’s trying not to cry. “You know we love you no matter what. We just want you to be happy.”
“But you think I should do it.”
“Couldn’t hurt to talk to the guy,” his dad says, but he sighs like he doesn’t really like the idea any more than Kurt does. “You don’t have to commit to anything until you’re comfortable.”
Kurt knows what they’re not saying. The situation’s not getting any better, and at least this way he’d have a chance at some kind of life. He’d still have to be careful every time he went out, and he’d have to avoid crowds at all costs, but at least people wouldn’t stare at him everywhere he went. It would be better for everyone, for his dad’s career and Kurt’s too, and even for Puck.
He remembers the way Puck touched his wings just that morning, before Kurt ruined everything, but he pushes the memory aside and ignores the way his wings lift sort of hopefully.
“Just think about it, son,” his dad says, pushing away from the table and picking up his plate. “It’s your decision.”
Kurt nods and looks down at his plate again, his stomach turning at the thought of food. The ache in his chest is worse than ever, and by the time he drags himself back up to his room he feels like crying. There’s not even anyone he can call, because Blaine hates him and Mercedes is in L.A., even Rachel’s gone off to New York to live the life Kurt will never have, and Puck…he has no idea where he stands with Puck.
He’s contemplating just going to bed when he hears the doorbell, and when his wings spread and flap hard against his shoulders, he knows exactly who it is. A minute later he hears Puck’s footsteps on the stairs, and he braces himself for the moment when Puck walks into his room and starts packing his things.
He’s aching and exhausted and he doesn’t understand why, but he knows all it would take is a touch from Puck to make everything right again. It doesn’t make any sense, and he doesn’t have any right to ask, but when Puck appears in his doorway he stands up anyway.
“Hey,” Puck says, voice a little rough, and Kurt’s wings stretch in response.
“Hi,” he answers, arms crossed over his chest and feeling more naked than ever. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”
Puck shrugs and glances over his shoulder toward the hall, as though maybe he’s thinking about leaving again. Instead he shuts the door and turns back to Kurt, and his expression makes Kurt’s heart skip a beat.
“I probably shouldn’t have.”
“Yes, you should,” Kurt says before he can stop himself, because he has no idea what they’re doing, but he knows now that Puck belongs here. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. You’re not second choice, Puck. It’s just…I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”
The whole time he talks he’s edging closer to Puck, wings fluttering frantically behind him in an effort to move him forward. He doesn’t see Puck move, but Kurt knows he must have, because suddenly he’s right there, and when Kurt reaches out a hand, Puck catches it.
As soon as Puck touches him Kurt’s whole body relaxes, and he knows it should embarrass him that he needs this so much, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when Puck’s looking just as relieved as he feels, as though spending the entire day apart has been just as hard on him as it was on Kurt.
Puck’s hand slides up his arm to touch the edge of his wing, fingers stroking Kurt’s feathers and sending a shiver straight down his spine. “What, I can’t just like hanging out with you?”
Kurt’s laugh is shaky, and he reaches up and catches Puck’s hand where it’s tracing the curve of his shoulder now. “It’s not as though I’m complaining. It’s just…unexpected, that’s all. You’re possibly the last person I’d expect to want to be with me. Well, except maybe Finn.”
Puck smiles down at their hands where Kurt’s still holding onto him, then he pulls his hand away and Kurt has to stop himself from reaching out again. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly your type either, right?”
Kurt wants to laugh again, because he’s heard Puck say a lot of dumb things in his time, but that’s possibly the dumbest one yet. The truth is Puck’s pretty much exactly his type, now that he actually stops to think about it. Except that Puck actually looks like he means it - looks like it’s hurting him a little to say it - so Kurt takes a chance and steps forward.
“You’re right. Handsome, well-built, actually able to touch me…not my type at all.”
He expects Puck to laugh at that, maybe flash one of those cocky smiles Kurt’s seen a million times and pull Kurt into his arms. Instead he gets a frown, then Puck looks away and lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I get that we’re stuck with each other.”
“But we’re not,” Kurt says, arms crossed over his chest, and he can’t believe how badly he’s messing this up, but it’s not as though he has a lot of experience with convincing someone that he’s attracted to them. “I mean, you’re not stuck with me. You can leave any time you want, which you demonstrated quite clearly this morning.”
He doesn’t mean to sound so bitter. He’s only stating facts, and it’s nothing Puck doesn’t already know. But his wings are already protesting, fluttering anxiously behind him and no matter how Kurt tries, he can’t get them to behave.
“You actually believe that,” Puck says, in a tone that tells Kurt he’s not even surprised. “You think I can just fuck off whenever and forget about all this? I told you already, I can feel it.”
“Fine, for some bizarre reason you can feel some shadow of the pain I feel when someone touches me. But no one touched me today except you. There was nothing to feel.”
Puck rolls his eyes, then he steps forward and reaches out, and Kurt bites his lip when Puck’s fingers trace the ridge of his left wing. “It’s not just when somebody else is touching you. Why do you think your dad said I could move in? There’s some kind of link between us. It’s strong enough that it showed up on those tests they did at the hospital.”
He pauses, his hand sliding around the back of Kurt’s neck to splay his fingers across Kurt’s skin. “You think I don’t feel the way you relax when I touch you? You think I couldn’t tell how much today sucked? It sucked for me, too, Kurt. The second I get more than ten feet away from you it feels like I’m drowning.”
Kurt’s breath catches in his throat, his hand coming up to curl in the front of Puck’s shirt. “Why is this happening to us?”
They both know there’s no answer to that, so Kurt’s not surprised when Puck just shakes his head and drags Kurt forward to press their lips together. Kurt doesn’t hesitate before he kisses Puck back, grip tightening as though he thinks maybe Puck’s going to try to get away.
The hollow ache in his chest started to ease the second Puck touched him again, and now that Puck’s kissing him Kurt feels like he could fly. That is, if his wings actually worked, and Kurt wants to laugh at the thought, but he’s too busy surging forward to kiss Puck harder. His arms slide around Puck’s neck, wings flapping behind him as Puck moves them backwards until Kurt’s thighs hit the bed.
Kurt sits down hard, Puck dropping to his knees in front of Kurt and pressing his hands to Kurt’s thighs. He leans in and opens his mouth against Kurt’s neck, breathing in deep and gripping Kurt’s legs hard enough to leave bruises.
“I don’t know why it’s happening,” Puck says, voice muffled against his skin, “but I don’t want it to stop.”
Kurt’s hands grip Puck’s shirt again, tugging this time until Puck gets with the program and pulls back long enough to tug it over his head. He drops it on the floor before he reaches for the front of Kurt’s pants, and he can honestly say that never in a million years would he have expected to see Noah Puckerman on his knees in front of him.
But there he is, and when he pulls Kurt’s pants open and slides a hand inside, Kurt bites down hard on his lip and closes his eyes. A second later he opens them again, his whole face flushing at the sight of his dick sliding between Puck’s lips.
It’s not his first blow job - though it’s pretty close - so he manages not to come at the mere sight of Puck with his eyes closed and his cheeks hollowed, one hand still pressed against Kurt’s thigh and the other wrapped loosely around the base of his cock. Puck’s probably been on the receiving end of a lot more blow jobs than Kurt, but that doesn’t mean he understands anything about technique.
In a way it makes Kurt feel a little better that Puck’s less than expert at this, because Kurt’s not exactly a blow job savant or anything, and Puck’s going to know it the first time Kurt goes down on him. Still, there’s something about the sight of Puck’s mouth wrapped around him, eyes dark with lust when he looks up at Kurt, and as soon as he sees Kurt’s flushed cheeks and his red, open lips, Puck sucks a little harder.
Kurt makes a noise he’ll deny all the way to his deathbed and reaches out, sliding a hand along Puck’s scalp and stroking the soft skin there. He’s not really the hair-pulling type, not that Puck has much hair to pull on anyway, but he wants Puck to know he appreciates the effort.
He wants Puck to know he’s enjoying this, but mostly he wants Puck to know that Kurt’s not sorry they’re stuck with each other.
“Puck, I…” he says, and that’s as far as he gets, but Puck must understand somehow, because he pulls off and leans up to kiss Kurt hard, fist still stroking hard until Kurt tenses and thrusts up into his grip and comes.
Puck waits until he stops shaking before he lets go, fingers sliding through the wet heat on Kurt’s stomach before he reaches down to tug his jeans open and pull out his own cock. He’s still kissing Kurt, free hand on the back of Kurt’s neck and holding him in place. Kurt moans against his mouth, pushing at his shoulders to try to get Puck closer, onto the bed where Kurt can return the favor. But before he can make Puck understand what he wants Puck’s gasping and tensing against him, his own come mingling with Kurt’s as he lets go.
Kurt’s hands are on Puck’s cheeks, feathering soft kisses against Puck’s mouth and jaw while he waits for Puck’s breathing to even out. “I would have…”
“Couldn’t wait,” Puck says, then he lets out a shaky laugh and presses forward to kiss Kurt again. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
“Where were you?” Kurt asks, whispering the words against his mouth, and he doesn’t intend for them to sound quite so needy, but that’s how they come out.
“My mom’s house,” Puck answers, finally pushing off his knees to climb onto the bed next to Kurt. They stretch out side by side, Puck’s arm sliding around his waist to bury his fingers in the soft feathers at Kurt’s back. “She finally kicked me out; said watching me mope was giving her a headache.”
Kurt smiles and reaches for the edge of the sheet, doing his best to clean them up before he curls into Puck and presses as much of them together as he can. Puck’s fingers are still stroking through his wings, slow and soft and Kurt doesn’t try to hold back a sigh when warm fingers curl around the joint where his wing meets his back.
“And here I thought maybe you just missed me.”
“I tried not to. I tried not to think about you all day, but I couldn’t stop.”
“And yet you managed to stay away for a long time,” Kurt says, not even bothering to try to keep the accusation out of his voice.
“I thought you wanted me to,” Puck answers, his arm tightening around Kurt’s waist. “Seemed like you weren’t that crazy about having me around.”
Kurt sighs, forehead pressing against Puck’s shoulder and brushing his lips against warm skin. “I didn’t want you to leave. I just didn’t understand what was happening to us. I still don’t.”
Puck rolls onto his back, pulling Kurt with him until Kurt’s head is pillowed on his chest. His wings stretch out, flapping once before they settle down to curl around Kurt’s shoulders and Puck’s chest.
“Maybe God just wanted us together, and this is His way of letting us know.”
“I don’t believe in God,” Kurt says, frowning against Puck’s chest.
“Fine, the universe, then,” Puck answers. “Call it what you want, babe, but if we were meant to be together it was going to happen one way or the other.”
“That’s not the way it works and you know it.” Kurt pushes up on one elbow to look down at Puck, frowning when he realizes Puck’s actually being serious. “People aren’t cosmically destined for each other, no matter what Broadway and Hollywood want us to believe.”
“People don’t just grow wings, either.”
“That’s a low blow,” Kurt says, but he doesn’t pull away when Puck’s hand strokes down the center of his back.
“Doesn’t make it any less true.” Puck lets go of Kurt’s wing and shifts up onto his elbows, leaning up to catch Kurt’s lips in a soft kiss. “I’m just saying, maybe somebody was trying to get our attention.”
“By giving me wings.”
“Yeah, well, you can be kind of stubborn,” Puck says, grinning when Kurt frowns.
“That’s rich, coming from you,” he answers, but his hand betrays him by curving around Puck’s cheek, holding him up so Puck can kiss him again.
And he still doesn’t believe in destiny or soulmates, but Puck seems to, and so far Kurt hasn’t come up with a better explanation. Something neither of them can see or touch is making him crave Puck’s presence, making him need Puck in a way he’s never needed anyone before. Whether it’s some strange chemical reaction or a grand plan neither of them has any control over, he can’t deny that he wants Puck.
He lets Puck pull him back down onto the mattress, arms strong around his waist and kissing Kurt like he’s trying to prove a point. That they really do belong together, maybe, and there’s a part of Kurt that wants to believe he’s right.
Part Four
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Puck (Kurt/Blaine)
Rating: NC17
Word count: 51,000+ overall; ~10,000 for this part
Summary: When people can’t see what’s standing right in front of them, sometimes the universe resorts to drastic measures. This is one of those times. So AU. So, so AU. Also, wingfic.
Dinner is weird, mainly due to the fact that it’s so normal. Well, except for the part where Finn spends the entire meal staring at Puck like he’s the one with wings, but other than that, it all feels almost…natural. Like Puck belongs there, and as hard as he tries to convince himself it’s just because Puck’s been hanging around so much all summer, Kurt knows it’s not true.
They spend the rest of the night hanging out in the living room with Finn, Kurt in his usual spot while they take turns killing each other in more and more violent ways in the game. But it feels different somehow, maybe because Kurt’s fairly sure that Puck plans on spending the night in his room instead of Finn’s. That’s where his things are, anyway, still sitting on the floor next to Kurt’s desk as though they belong there.
As though he belongs here, and the fact that his dad’s allowing it isn’t even the weirdest part.
They stay up later than normal, until all three of them are yawning and fighting to keep their eyes open. None of them wants to be the first to suggest they get some sleep, but it has to happen sometime, so finally Kurt stands up and stretches his wings and announces that he’s going to bed.
When he glances toward the couch Puck’s eyes are on him, watching his wings unfurl and flap silently against his shoulders. Kurt blushes and pulls them back in, then he crosses the living room and heads for the stairs without waiting to see if Puck’s going to follow.
Instead he brushes his teeth and washes his face, then he changes into a clean pair of pajama bottoms. When he opens the bathroom door Puck’s standing next to his bed, duffel bag sitting on the edge and rifling through the contents. Kurt glances toward his bedroom door to find Finn standing there, and when Puck notices he turns to look at Finn too.
“Dude, what?”
“Nothing,” Finn answers. “Just…see you tomorrow, I guess.”
Kurt understands how strange this must be for him. He knows Finn’s not a hundred percent comfortable with Kurt being gay, though he’s made pretty amazing strides in the past two years. But it has to be a bit of shock to see Kurt and Puck together, and even though nothing’s going on aside from a lot of heavy petting, it probably looks pretty suspicious from the outside.
It looks a little weird from where Kurt’s standing, too, and he laughs to himself before he can stop it. Thankfully Finn’s already gone, which means Puck’s the only one around to look at him like maybe he’s starting to lose it. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Kurt answers, watching Puck pull sweatpants and his toothbrush out of his bag before he adds, “it’s just that I can’t imagine you ever expected to find yourself sharing a bed with me.”
Puck looks down at his bag again, frowning at it for a few moments as though it’s offended him somehow. When he looks up again his shoulders are tense, and Kurt’s wings flutter unhappily.
“Yeah, I guess,” is all Puck says, then he crosses the room and shuts himself in Kurt’s bathroom.
Kurt knows it was the wrong thing to say, but he doesn’t know why. He has a feeling Finn might, and it’s tempting to head down the hall and ask him. But he’s not sure Finn will tell him the truth, and things are already weird enough without dragging his stepbrother into it.
Instead he crosses the room and shuts the door, leaning against it for a few seconds with his forehead pressed against cool wood. He has no idea what he’s doing, why he can’t just tell Puck to go sleep on Finn’s floor like he usually does. It would be better for both of them if he did, but he knows he’s not going to.
The bathroom door opens and he turns around, swallowing hard at the sight of Puck in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. They ride low on his hips, Puck’s abs on full display and Kurt blinks and drags his gaze up to Puck’s face. His eyes are dark, and when he reaches down and pulls the covers back, Kurt flushes and shuts off the light.
His legs feel like lead, and he’s not sure he can make them carry him all the way across the room. Then Puck slides between the sheets and looks over at him again, and Kurt’s wings flap so wildly they actually propel him forward. He feels his face burning and he’s glad he turned off the light so Puck won’t see. He finds himself next to the bed without any real idea how he got there, and when Puck pulls the sheet back for him Kurt sits down hard on the edge of the mattress.
And he’s not some virgin, but it would almost be easier if this was about sex. If he knew what Puck wanted from him, but Kurt still has no idea why he’s even here.
He stretches out on the cool sheets, rolling onto his stomach and tucking one arm under his pillow. He turns to face Puck, heart skipping a beat when he finds Puck propped up on one elbow and watching him. Just...looking, as though he thinks Kurt’s worth looking at.
Finally he stretches out on his back, and Kurt’s not sure whether he’s disappointed or relieved that Puck’s not planning to touch him. Then a hand slides across the space between them, catching Kurt’s hand where it’s resting on the mattress, and when Puck slides their fingers together Kurt doesn’t ask what he thinks he’s doing. He doesn’t want to admit how much he wants Puck to touch him, but somehow Puck seems to know anyway.
Kurt should be embarrassed at how transparent he is. How needy he is, but he’s tired and he feels guilty about Blaine and he can’t bring himself to care if Puck knows how much he needs this. So he curls his fingers around Puck’s hand and holds on, and when Puck squeezes back, Kurt lets himself believe it means something.
~
When he wakes up the bed’s empty, and Kurt sits up in time to watch the bathroom door open. Puck’s wearing a pair of jeans and a black belt, chest bare and running a towel over his mohawk. When he spots Kurt he drops the towel over his shoulder, then he crosses to his bag to fish out a shirt.
“Where are you going?” Kurt blurts out, cringing as soon as the words escape him. Because it’s none of his business what Puck does with his time, but the thought of him leaving without so much as a goodbye makes his wings flutter anxiously.
“Finn has to swing by the recruiter to sign those papers. I said I’d go with.”
“Oh,” Kurt says, though what he thinks is, don’t go. He doesn’t want Puck anywhere near the recruiter, not if he’s still thinking about signing papers of his own. But he doesn’t have any right to ask that of Puck, so he keeps his mouth shut and watches Puck pull his McKinley Football shirt over his head.
“You okay?” Puck asks once he’s dressed, and Kurt flushes when he realizes he’s been staring.
“Of course,” Kurt lies, because it’s not like Puck can do anything about it. Kurt doesn’t have the right to ask him to stay, and he can’t invite himself along, no matter how much he might want to. Instead he stands up, intent on shutting himself in the bathroom until Puck and Finn are long gone.
He’s halfway there when a hand closes around his arm, and Kurt lets himself be pulled backwards. Puck’s free hand lands on his wing, stroking along the ridge before he digs his fingers into the feathers and carefully straightens a few that must have gotten ruffled in his sleep.
When Puck’s done he lets go, hands dropping to his sides and Kurt has to close his eyes for a moment before he speaks. “Thanks.”
“Any time,” Puck says, and this time when Kurt walks away, Puck lets him go.
When Kurt gets out of the shower Puck’s gone, but his bag’s still sitting on Kurt’s floor, so that means he’ll be back eventually. Kurt’s wings flutter restlessly at the thought, but he forces them back down and crosses to his dresser to pull out a couple drawers. Considering half his wardrobe has been rendered obsolete by his wings, Kurt figures the least he can do is consolidate some space and give Puck somewhere besides a duffel bag to store his clothes.
Not that he’s asked for space or even hinted at how long he’s staying, but even if it’s just for a few days, the least Kurt can do is try to be a good host. It gives him something to do, anyway, and by the time he hears the front door, he’s not only emptied a drawer for Puck, but rearranged his entire closet.
When he hears footsteps on the stairs Kurt’s pulse picks up speed, and he’s trying to figure out how to look like he’s not waiting for Puck when he finally appears in the doorway. He’s holding a cup Kurt recognizes instantly from the Lima Bean, and when Puck grins and crosses the room to hand it over, Kurt’s jaw drops.
“You brought me coffee?”
Puck shrugs, then his grin turns sort of sheepish, and Kurt has to remind himself that he’s not allowed to lean forward and kiss him. “I heard you bitching to Finn the other day about not being able to go out for your fix anymore.”
Kurt looks down at the cup wrapped in his hands, breathing in the tell-tales scents of coffee and chocolate. “Is this…? How did you know my order?”
“I just described you to the guy behind the counter and he knew exactly who I was talking about. I think that’s a sign of a serious addiction, dude.”
Kurt laughs, lifting the cup to hide his pleased smile as he takes a tentative sip. He hasn’t had a decent mocha since the last time Mercedes came by, bearing gifts to soften the blow of having to say goodbye without even being able to hug him. A sob catches Kurt by surprise, and he presses his hand to his mouth and closes his eyes.
“Kurt? Shit,” Puck says, then his hands are on Kurt, touching his face and then his neck. “Did I fuck up your order or something?”
“No,” Kurt answers, drawing a shaky breath and pressing forward into Puck’s warmth. He doesn’t even think about what he’s doing, but when Puck’s arms go around him to pull him close, Kurt figures he doesn’t mind. “This was surprisingly thoughtful of you, Puck. Thanks.”
“It’s just coffee,” Puck says, but he doesn’t let go. Kurt sniffs against his shoulder again, then he lifts his head far enough to look at Puck.
“I cleared out the top drawer of the dresser for you. If you’re staying awhile I thought it would be easier than living out of a gym bag.”
“Yeah?” Puck says, glancing toward the dresser in question before he turns back to smile at Kurt. “Thanks.”
“It’s just a drawer,” Kurt says, blushing when Puck huffs a soft laugh.
His wings flutter and Puck glances at them, one hand coming up to brush the spot where they meet his back. Kurt bites his lip at the sensation, willing his body not to react to the combination of Puck’s hands on him and the warmth of his body pressed against Kurt. It’s a losing battle, but when Puck’s other hand slides into his hair and he leans in a little, Kurt forgets to care.
He forgets about the coffee clutched in his hand, forgets about everything he’s lost in the past two months, and he even forgets to wonder why Puck’s doing this. All he knows is that Puck’s about to kiss him, and there’s no way in the world Kurt’s going to stop him.
Which is exactly the reason his stepbrother chooses that moment to shout down the hall.
“Hey, you guys want to order a pizza or something? Oh,” Finn says, and Kurt glances toward the door to find him standing there.
Puck swears under his breath and lets go of Kurt, taking a deep breath before he turns to look at Finn. “Yeah, sure, dude. Just give me a couple minutes.”
“Yeah, okay,” Finn answers, but he doesn’t move from the doorway. Instead he stands there watching Puck pick his bag up off the floor and drop it on the bed, pulling a stack of t-shirts out and carrying them across the room to the dresser.
For a moment Kurt stands them watching them both, but when he realizes Finn’s not going to leave them alone again he rolls his eyes and slides past Finn into the hall. “Fine, I’ll call. But don’t complain when all you get is vegetables.”
It takes a second for his words to penetrate whatever stupor Finn’s fallen into, but when he finally realizes what Kurt’s said he turns away from the sight of Puck moving into Kurt’s room. “Wait, what? Kurt, wait up,” he calls, hurrying down the stairs to catch Kurt before he gets to the menu drawer.
Kurt digs the menu for the pizza place out of the drawer and hands it over, then he leans against the counter and sips his mocha while he listens to Finn order two large pizzas with half a cow and an entire pig on them. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t complain, mostly because he knows that soon enough he’s not going to have to fight Finn for the right to choose the toppings anymore.
Everyone’s moving on, it seems, and Kurt…he’s stuck in Lima with an incurable medical condition and no real prospects for any kind of future. That is, unless he wants to join the circus. At least it would be performing, he thinks, frowning down at his coffee until Finn hangs up the phone.
“Why did you tell Puck not to visit me in the hospital?”
Finn looks up, eyes going wide, then he glances over his shoulder to make sure Puck’s not lurking in the doorway. “He told you that?”
“At the time he thought I’d asked you to.”
Finn has the grace to blush, at least, then he sighs and crosses the room to pull a soda out of the fridge. “Come on, bro, you know how Puck is.”
Kurt frowns, because he really doesn’t. Before graduation he hadn’t paid much attention, and now…the Puck he’s gotten to know over the past few weeks is nothing like the one he expected.
“And how is that, exactly?”
“He gets, like, obsessed.” Finn glances toward the door to make sure the coast is still clear, then he sinks into a chair and looks up at Kurt. “I know I was pissed about the whole Quinn thing for a long time, but he’s still my best friend. When he thinks he’s in love or whatever he goes all in. It’s like an obsession. Look how long he put up with Lauren’s bullshit.”
Kurt wasn’t paying much attention to Puck then either, but he vaguely remembers Puck following Lauren around, looking more like a big, dumb puppy than the bully Kurt thought he knew and loathed.
“So you’re saying Puck thinks he’s in love…with me?”
Kurt expects a laugh, maybe a ‘don’t be crazy, dude’ or a ‘Puck’s not gay’. But all he gets is a shrug, then Finn’s glancing over his shoulder again before he turns back and lowers his voice.
“All I know is he started asking a lot of questions as soon as you landed in the hospital. I just thought it would be a bad idea to encourage him or whatever. You’re with Blaine, and you’d probably never go for a guy like Puck anyway, and I just didn’t want him getting his heart broken and doing something stupid.”
“Like joining the Army,” Kurt says before he even realizes he’s thinking it, and when Finn winces he knows it’s true.
“He told you about that, too, huh? You guys sure have been talking a lot.”
“That’s all we’ve been doing, not that it’s any of your business,” Kurt says, raising an eyebrow when Finn opens his mouth to protest. Except it’s not exactly true, and Kurt’s almost positive that if Finn hadn’t interrupted them earlier, they wouldn’t be doing much talking right now.
Then again, maybe they should do some more talking, because Kurt’s still not convinced that all of this isn’t some weird shared delusion brought on by Kurt’s wings. They flutter indignantly at the thought, but Kurt rolls his eyes and ignores them.
Before Finn comes up with a reply they hear Puck’s footsteps on the stairs, and it shouldn’t matter, because he’s the same person Kurt left in his bedroom ten minutes ago. He’s the same person Kurt shared a bed with last night, and the night before that, but somehow knowing that Puck has feelings for him makes a difference.
His heart races when Puck walks into the kitchen, and he clutches the coffee cup to his chest and hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. When Puck grins at him his wings flap against the sink, and his whole face flushes when Puck laughs.
“Dude, we playing or what?” Puck asks, dragging his gaze away from Kurt long enough to look at Finn.
“Yeah, okay,” Finn says, but he’s still glancing between Puck and Kurt like he’s trying to figure out if he’s interrupting something.
Puck just snorts another laugh and heads for the fridge, helping himself to a Coke before he follows Finn into the living room. When they get there Finn starts to claim his spot on the couch, but Puck kicks his shin and nods toward the chair where Kurt usually sits. Finn frowns but moves over, then Puck holds out a hand for Kurt and pulls him down onto the couch.
It’s a little strange, curling against Puck’s side to watch them play, cuddled up against him as though they’re...something. Then again, they are something, even if neither of them have admitted it yet. He can feel it every time Puck touches him, feels the energy pulsing under his skin and the thrum of the connection between them. He’s pretty sure Puck can feel it too, that he felt it yesterday when Blaine touched him and that he feels it now, even when they’re just pressed together on the couch.
They spend the whole afternoon that way, Kurt curled against him and watching while they play. By the time his dad and Carole get home to make dinner the energy’s practically humming in his veins, and it seems like the most natural thing in the world to lean over and kiss Puck. He stops himself just in time, mainly because Finn’s been looking pretty confused all afternoon, and Kurt doesn’t want to short-circuit his brain and render him unable to serve his country.
He has no idea how he makes it through dinner. He doesn’t remember what movie they settle on that evening, either; all he remembers is being relegated to his chair so more people can sit on the couch than just him and Puck, and the weird looks his dad casts in his direction when his wings flutter every time Puck laughs.
They spend the whole night hanging out with Kurt’s family, and the weird thing is that it feels normal. It feels as though Puck belongs here, and not just because he’s been Finn’s best friend for as long as Kurt’s known them. It doesn’t even feel that strange to say goodnight to his dad and his stepmom and go upstairs with Puck, even though they all know he won’t be spending the night on Finn’s floor.
Kurt’s stomach flutters at the thought - his wings too - and he blushes when he catches Puck smirking at him. A hand lands in the center of his back, stroking the skin just below his wings, and Kurt gasps before he can stop himself. When they get to his room Kurt expects Puck to shut the door and pull him close, but instead he lets go of Kurt and heads for his drawer to pull out a pair of sweats.
Kurt lets him have the bathroom first, and by the time he finishes brushing his teeth and changing into his pajamas Puck’s stretched out in Kurt’s bed with his arms folded behind his head. Like he’s waiting, and Kurt’s wings flap hard against his shoulders as he crosses to the bed and climbs onto the mattress.
He slides under the sheet next to Puck, turning onto his side to study Puck’s profile in the darkness. “What did the recruiter say?”
Puck shrugs against the pillow, then he turns onto his side to face Kurt. “Not much. I told you, he just wanted Finn to sign some papers.”
Kurt’s pretty sure it’s a lie, but he doesn’t call Puck on it. Instead he nods and inches a little closer, his wings fluttering behind him as though they’re trying to propel him forward even while one of them is more or less trapped against the mattress.
Puck’s hand lands on his hip, easing Kurt toward him. “Come on, turn over.”
So Kurt does, blushing and stretching out on his stomach to let Puck run a hand along the ridge of his right wing. It stretches under his touch, flapping once, and Puck sucks in a breath and lets his fingers slide through the soft feathers.
“What’s it feel like?”
“Do you mean when you touch them?” Kurt asks, his face flushing even brighter red, because it’s one thing if Puck knows what he’s doing to Kurt, but it’s another thing to make him say it.
“I meant having them in the first place,” Puck answers, but Kurt can tell by the way he says it that Puck knows exactly what Kurt’s thinking.
“What does it feel like, having a completely useless set of wings?” Kurt sighs against the pillow and pushes himself up on his elbows, pushing Puck’s hand a little lower in the process. “I suppose I should be grateful that they stopped hurting after I figured out how to walk with them. I still forget they’re there sometimes, but then they start with their ridiculous flapping for no good reason.”
Puck smirks at him, hand sliding up the center of Kurt’s back to rest at the sensitive spot where wings meet skin. “Yeah, sometimes I can tell what you’re thinking by the way they move. Guess that means they’re not totally useless.”
Kurt’s laugh trails off into a choked sort of gasp when Puck’s fingers dig into the soft feathers close to his shoulder blade. His wings are sensitive - of course his wings are sensitive - but until Puck touched them for the first time he had no idea just how sensitive they could be. Each spot Puck finds is more responsive than the last, and when he runs his thumb along the underside of the ridge, Kurt bites down hard to hold back a moan.
“You like that?” Puck asks, voice low and husky and too close to Kurt’s ear, and there’s no way Kurt’s getting out of this with his dignity intact.
His wings betray him by fluttering softly, spreading just enough to let Puck’s hand sink even deeper into the soft down at the base of his feathers. Puck laughs in the darkness, the sound going straight to Kurt’s dick, and he fights not to move his hips against the mattress.
“Guess your wings like it, anyway,” Puck says, like he knows, and Kurt buries his face in the pillow so he won’t have to look at Puck while he dies of humiliation.
“Puck,” he murmurs, and he’s planning to tell Puck to stop, he really is, but the word comes out more like a moan than a warning.
He feels the mattress shift, then Puck’s hand is sliding down the center of his back, hot against Kurt’s skin and when he feels Puck’s lips brush against his shoulder, Kurt can’t hold back a gasp. His wings are stretched wide behind him, lifting as though they’re making room for Puck to move closer.
So he does, his mouth brushing Kurt’s cheek this time, then the soft skin just below his ear. He hears Puck whisper his name, and he knows he should make Puck stop, make him listen to reason, because this isn’t fair to either of them. But Puck’s hand is on his hip, nudging him gently until Kurt folds his wings close enough to turn on his side. When he does Puck’s looking at him, eyes dark and searching Kurt’s face like he’s looking for the answer to a question he hasn’t asked.
His arm’s around Kurt’s waist, bare chests pressed together and Kurt feels the pull of want in the base of his stomach. It’s not the first time, but it’s the first time it’s felt like this, as though there’s some invisible force drawing them together. Or not so invisible, Kurt thinks when his wings flutter impatiently behind him, then he pushes forward and kisses Puck hard.
Puck lets out a noise that could be surprise against Kurt’s mouth, and Kurt has a moment of panic where he thinks maybe he’s read this entire situation all wrong, but when he starts to pull away Puck’s grip tightens to hold him in place. His lips part under Kurt’s, tongue sliding along his bottom lip and dragging a gasp out of him, and as soon as Kurt’s mouth opens Puck pushes his tongue past Kurt’s teeth.
His hand slides up to grip Kurt’s wing joint where it meets his back, and Kurt lets out a helpless moan and arches back into the touch. He hears Puck’s low chuckle, feels it vibrate against his chest, but before Kurt has a chance to be embarrassed Puck’s moving again, rolling onto his back and pulling Kurt with him until he’s sprawled across Puck’s chest.
Until his wings are free, and when Puck strokes his other hand along the tip of Kurt’s left wing, he feels them vibrate with pleasure. Puck breaks the kiss to look up at him, his expression open and raw in a way Kurt hasn’t seen since that whole mess with Quinn and their baby. Then again, he hasn’t really been paying much attention to Puck this whole time, and according to Finn, he’s missed a lot.
Kurt reaches up to curve his hand around Puck’s cheek, thumb dragging along stubble and just looking, his heart pounding so hard he’s sure Puck can feel it. Sure Puck can tell how terrified he is that none of this is real, that he’s going to wake up any second and be alone with his wings and the aching in his chest that only goes away when Puck’s touching him.
“Don’t tell me to stop,” Puck says, and he sounds desperate, as though he’s been thinking about kissing Kurt for a long time.
Kurt shakes his head and slides his thumb along Puck’s bottom lip, then he presses forward and kisses Puck again. Puck moans against his mouth and pushes his fingers into the downy feathers where Kurt’s wing meets his back, tugging just hard enough to make his wings stretch out behind him. And Kurt didn’t even know he could do that, so he doesn’t know how Puck figured it out, but he doesn’t bother to ask.
Nothing about this surprises him anymore, not even the fact that Puck seems to have developed psychic powers when it comes to Kurt’s wings. They flap once, wildly, then they start to vibrate again, and when Kurt lets out a helpless moan Puck grips his hips and drags him close until Kurt’s stretched out between his legs.
It shouldn’t surprise him that Puck’s hard, but Kurt gasps anyway, arching forward before he can stop himself to slide their cocks together. Puck moans and lets go of his wings to slide his hand down Kurt’s back, then he grips Kurt’s ass to rock them together.
Kurt’s done this before, but with Blaine it was usually sweet and slow, soft touches and breathy gasps and kisses that went on forever. Puck’s hands are anything but soft, his kisses are rough and urgent and the sounds he’s making let Kurt know exactly how much he wants this. His fingers bite into Kurt’s skin to drag him closer, teeth grazing Kurt’s jaw and then his neck as Puck sucks a mark into pale skin.
He clutches at Kurt like he can’t get close enough, rocking up helplessly in search of more friction, and it dawns on Kurt that this is likely the first time in years that Puck doesn’t really know what he’s doing in bed. The thought is terrifying, but his wings stretch and arc up over his shoulders at the thought, as though they’re proud of being Puck’s first something, which is just ridiculous, because it’s not like his wings are the ones with the experience here.
He tilts his head to find Puck’s mouth again, making soothing noises in his throat as he kisses Puck until he stops fighting for more. His hands press against the mattress on either side of Puck’s hips and he lifts up a little, just enough to look in Puck’s eyes.
“Can I…?” he asks, sliding a hand between them to grip the edge of Puck’s waistband, and Puck nods frantically and lets go of Kurt to push his sweatpants down his hips.
He’s not wearing any underwear; that’s no surprise, just like it’s not really a surprise that the stories about Puck are mostly true. The heat curling in the base of Kurt’s stomach tightens and he reaches out, wrapping a hand around Puck’s dick and stroking a few times. He’s not really an expert, and Puck’s probably had plenty of hand jobs before, but when Kurt ventures a glance at him Puck doesn’t look like he’s thinking about complaining.
His lips are parted and his fingers are curled around the sheet on either side of him, hips rocking up into Kurt’s grip and looking at Kurt like he’s the best thing Puck’s ever seen. Like he’s actually enjoying this, and Kurt figures it shouldn’t be a surprise that Puck’s flexible enough to take his pleasure where he can.
Still, he’s not expecting Puck to reciprocate, because there’s stroking his wings and there’s letting Kurt touch him, and okay, there’s even kissing, but touching Kurt’s dick is a whole different story. So he’s not surprised when Puck pushes up off the mattress, gripping Kurt’s hips and choking out, “wait.”
Kurt lets go of him automatically, ignores the choked sound Puck makes and the way his heart plummets into his stomach. He ignores the way his wings droop, too, because he’s the one who’s about to die of humiliation here, so they don’t get a vote.
But instead of pushing him off and making excuses, Puck pulls Kurt up onto his knees until he’s straddling Puck’s legs, then he grips his pajamas and yanks them down until Kurt’s cock springs free. His hands grip Kurt’s thighs to drag him closer, and when Kurt’s wings stretch to their full length and flap around him, Puck barks a surprised laugh.
“That’s so fucking hot,” he says, then he tugs Kurt forward, pressing their lips together and pushing his tongue past Kurt’s teeth to kiss him hard. His hand closes around Kurt’s cock, palm rough and just this side of too dry, but Kurt doesn’t care, because Puck’s touching him, and it feels more amazing than he ever thought it could.
Kurt’s own hand slides between them to grip Puck again, matching his rhythm until they’re rocking together, breathing the same air while Kurt’s wings beat around them. Puck nips at his bottom lip, tongue sliding out to soothe the sting and Kurt presses forward and kisses him again. His free hand rests on the back of Puck’s neck to keep him upright, fingers splayed and stroking little patterns in the base of his ridiculous mohawk.
And apparently Puck likes it, at least if the noises he’s making are anything to go by. He rocks up a little harder into Kurt’s grip, murmuring against Kurt’s mouth now, and when Kurt hears Puck say, “come on,” in the second before he pushes his fingers into the feathers at the center of Kurt’s back, Kurt lets out a cry and comes.
For a second Kurt’s frozen in place, hand still gripping Puck’s cock loosely as he tries to catch his breath. His wings are vibrating with pleasure, and when Puck strokes a soothing hand through the feathers Kurt chokes out another gasp.
He’s not prepared for his wings to be that sensitive; sure, they respond to Puck’s touch readily enough, but suddenly they’re too sensitive, and he moans and pushes forward to kiss Puck again. He lets go of Puck’s cock long enough to slide his palm through the come already cooling on his belly, then he grips Puck again and fists him harder than ever.
Puck moans low in his throat and rocks up into Kurt’s grip, tongue thrusting in and out of Kurt’s mouth in time with his strokes until finally he’s tensing and moaning Kurt’s name as he comes. When he comes down his hands aren’t buried in Kurt’s wings anymore, and Kurt can’t decide if it’s a relief or a disappointment.
He doesn’t have much time to think about it, though, because Puck’s pushing him up and off his lap, sliding down onto the mattress and dragging Kurt with him to kiss him again. It’s softer this time, slow and lazy and familiar in a way it probably shouldn’t be. But that’s just another one of those things that doesn’t really surprise Kurt anymore, so Kurt just kisses him back like this is exactly what they were made for.
His pajamas are still down around his thighs, but when Kurt pulls away to drag them back up, Puck’s hand reaches out to stop him. When Kurt looks up at him he grins, then he grasps the sides of Kurt’s pants and drags them down his legs to join Puck’s sweatpants where he’s already kicked them off.
Warm hands slide up his sides, tugging him forward until he’s stretched out next to Puck again, wings folded behind him and his ear pressed to Puck’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. Puck’s hand slides up his back under his wings, pressed to Kurt’s skin and stroking along his spine until Kurt sighs and settles a little further against him.
They still haven’t talked about any of this, about what Puck wants or where they go from here. Kurt has no idea if Puck is planning to stick around, or if he’s just helping Kurt adjust to his new life. There’s no way he’ll stick around forever; Kurt would never expect him to, not when he got dragged into this mess without his permission. But he’s here now, and even if it’s not for good, Kurt will take what he can get.
~
He wakes up to stifling heat, a heavy arm draped across his waist and Puck’s face pressed into the back of his neck. His wings are trapped between them, and it’s not uncomfortable, exactly, but Puck’s putting out enough heat to power a small engine. Kurt tries to squirm out from under his arm, but all it does is make Puck snort against his neck and clamp down even tighter on his waist.
Kurt rolls his eyes and covers Puck’s hand with his own, but when he tries to lift Puck’s arm, all that happens is Puck sliding their fingers together and huffing a hot breath against his skin. And it’s still too hot, but it’s kind of cute, too. Kurt never would have expected Puck to be a cuddler, though it’s no surprise that he’s aggressive about it.
He smiles to himself and flexes his wings a little, fluttering them softly against Puck’s chest. There’s not much room for them to move, but he feels Puck twitch behind him, so Kurt does it again. This time he shrugs his shoulders at the same time, letting the feathers at the tops of his left wing brush across Puck’s cheek.
There’s a disgruntled murmur near his ear, then the grip on his waist loosens and Puck pulls away far enough to let Kurt sit up. When he looks down Puck’s scrubbing a hand across his face, blinking sleepily and Kurt has half a mind to push him back down onto the mattress and kiss him again. Instead he watches while Puck slowly wakes up, frowning in the direction of Kurt’s wings as they flutter softly behind him.
“What the hell, babe?”
Kurt flushes at the term of endearment, but he’s not going to read anything into it. It’s probably just one of those things Puck says to whoever he happens to be sleeping with; it doesn’t mean anything, except that maybe Puck’s not going to climb out of bed and put as much distance as he can between them while he tells Kurt this was a mistake.
It’s a bigger relief than Kurt expects, and he takes a deep breath and reaches behind him to straighten the feathers he can reach so he doesn’t have to look at Puck. “You were crushing my feathers.”
He feels the mattress shift, then Puck’s sliding behind him and leaning in to brush his lips against the back of Kurt’s neck. “Sorry.”
“No harm done,” Kurt says, and when Puck reaches out to push his hand away from his feathers, Kurt doesn’t argue. Instead he lets Puck take over, eyes closed and head dropping forward as Puck carefully works his feathers back into place.
“Better?” Puck says after a few moments, but his fingers are still stroking Kurt’s feathers, tracing the ridges until Kurt’s wings spread wide and flap once.
Kurt nods and forces his eyes open, then he turns far enough to look over his shoulder at Puck. “Much. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Puck says, sliding a hand around the back of Kurt’s neck and pulling him forward to press their lips together. He tastes like stale sleep and Puck, and Kurt breathes in deep through his nose and turns into the kiss.
He shouldn’t want this. He aches for it, in his chest and his gut and even his wings. But even as he’s turning into Puck there’s a voice in the back of his head telling him to stop, that it’s not real and he’s only going to hurt more people in the end.
“Puck...”
He can hear the regret in his voice, and when Puck tenses against him Kurt knows he hears it too. Then Puck pulls away and Kurt feels it in his chest, has to fight to keep from reaching out and dragging him close again. But he can’t, not without making things even worse, so instead he keeps his hands to himself and ignores the way his feathers droop.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that...”
“Yeah, I get it,” Puck interrupts, already climbing off the bed and reaching for his sweatpants where they’re still lying on the floor. “I know I’m not your first choice here.”
Kurt opens his mouth to deny it, then closes it again when he realizes he doesn’t know what to say. The truth is that he doesn’t miss Blaine as much as he should; he hasn’t missed Blaine as much as he expected for the past few weeks now, and when he did come around it mostly ended in an argument. But Kurt feels like he should miss him -- he should miss them -- and the fact that there’s at least a part of him that really, really wants Puck makes him feel even worse.
“It’s not about being first choice,” he says instead, but when Puck looks at him he knows it was the wrong thing to say. But it’s true; if he could choose, knowing what he does now…well, he’s not entirely sure what choice he’d make. Even after a few days Puck’s gotten under his skin, and just watching him walk across Kurt’s room to shut himself in the bathroom makes Kurt’s chest feel too tight. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that Puck’s his only choice, and if that’s the only reason he’s here, Kurt would rather not choose at all.
He sighs and stands up to retrieve his pajamas from their spot on the floor, pulling them back on just in time for the bathroom door to open again. Kurt turns toward the sound, arms crossed over his chest and watching as Puck crosses the room again to dig a clean t-shirt out of his drawer.
“Puck…” he tries again, but he still has no idea what to say.
“It’s cool,” Puck says without looking at him. “I’m gonna go see what’s for breakfast.”
Before Kurt can come up with the right words to stop him Puck’s gone, and he’s only down in the kitchen, but Kurt still feels a little like he just ruined everything.
~
Puck leaves not long after breakfast. He barely looks at Kurt when he stands up and announces that he’s going out for awhile, and Kurt doesn’t ask where he’s going. It’s none of his business - even less now than it was when they woke up together - and anyway he’s not sure if he wants to know.
His wings aren’t happy about it; they spend most of the day moping, hanging listlessly at his back and refusing to so much as flutter at the opening strains of “Defying Gravity”. But he spends most of the day shut up in his room, so it’s not as though there’s anyone there to notice. Certainly not Puck, because dinner comes and goes and there’s still no sign of him.
Kurt spends most of the day trying not to think about all the places Puck might have gone, who he’s with and what they’re doing together. After all, Puck’s not the one who can’t touch other people, and just the thought is enough to turn Kurt’s stomach.
The longer he’s gone the worse Kurt feels; his feathers droop pathetically at his back, and the aching hole in his chest gets a little harder to ignore with each passing hour. He considers calling Puck, or maybe sending him a text to say I’m sorry and please come home. Except that it’s not Puck’s home, not really, and Kurt still doesn’t have the right to expect anything from him.
It doesn’t even make any sense, because he never felt like this before they figured out Puck could touch him. Or maybe he just didn’t notice, because he was so busy being miserable about his lost future that he didn’t realize there was something even bigger missing.
He’s been pushing his food around his plate since Carole coaxed him down to dinner, and he knows he’s doing a lousy job of convincing them not to worry about him. But he can’t help it, not when it’s been over eight hours since his…well, sort of argument with Puck, and he hasn’t gotten so much as a text.
“Everything okay, son?” his dad asks, and Kurt drags his gaze away from his mostly uneaten dinner and looks up at his father.
“Fine,” he lies, because it’s not fine, but there’s no way he can tell his dad that he had sex with Puck and then tried to take it back even though he didn’t really want to, and now Puck’s probably never going to speak to him again.
“I got a call from the doctor today,” his dad says, and something about the way he says it makes Kurt’s wings flutter nervously. His dad watches the motion for a second, then he clears his throat and shifts in his chair. “There’s this specialist he’s been talking to out in Seattle. He thinks he might be able to take care of your wings.”
“’Take care of’?” Kurt repeats, his wings folding flat against his back, and at least they’re not moping anymore.
“You know, remove them,” his dad says. “You’d still have the…other problem, but at least you wouldn’t have to worry so much about people seeing you.”
Kurt’s heart lurches at the thought, though he can’t tell if it’s hope or something else. For a second he wishes more than anything that Puck was here, but with or without wings, he still wouldn’t be able to touch anyone but Puck, so it doesn’t really matter.
“Would it be dangerous?”
His dad shrugs, glancing across the table at Carole, and Kurt knows him well enough to know that means the answer is yes.
“We’ll support you no matter what decision you make, honey,” Carole says, and when Kurt looks over at her she’s giving him that watery smile that means she’s trying not to cry. “You know we love you no matter what. We just want you to be happy.”
“But you think I should do it.”
“Couldn’t hurt to talk to the guy,” his dad says, but he sighs like he doesn’t really like the idea any more than Kurt does. “You don’t have to commit to anything until you’re comfortable.”
Kurt knows what they’re not saying. The situation’s not getting any better, and at least this way he’d have a chance at some kind of life. He’d still have to be careful every time he went out, and he’d have to avoid crowds at all costs, but at least people wouldn’t stare at him everywhere he went. It would be better for everyone, for his dad’s career and Kurt’s too, and even for Puck.
He remembers the way Puck touched his wings just that morning, before Kurt ruined everything, but he pushes the memory aside and ignores the way his wings lift sort of hopefully.
“Just think about it, son,” his dad says, pushing away from the table and picking up his plate. “It’s your decision.”
Kurt nods and looks down at his plate again, his stomach turning at the thought of food. The ache in his chest is worse than ever, and by the time he drags himself back up to his room he feels like crying. There’s not even anyone he can call, because Blaine hates him and Mercedes is in L.A., even Rachel’s gone off to New York to live the life Kurt will never have, and Puck…he has no idea where he stands with Puck.
He’s contemplating just going to bed when he hears the doorbell, and when his wings spread and flap hard against his shoulders, he knows exactly who it is. A minute later he hears Puck’s footsteps on the stairs, and he braces himself for the moment when Puck walks into his room and starts packing his things.
He’s aching and exhausted and he doesn’t understand why, but he knows all it would take is a touch from Puck to make everything right again. It doesn’t make any sense, and he doesn’t have any right to ask, but when Puck appears in his doorway he stands up anyway.
“Hey,” Puck says, voice a little rough, and Kurt’s wings stretch in response.
“Hi,” he answers, arms crossed over his chest and feeling more naked than ever. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”
Puck shrugs and glances over his shoulder toward the hall, as though maybe he’s thinking about leaving again. Instead he shuts the door and turns back to Kurt, and his expression makes Kurt’s heart skip a beat.
“I probably shouldn’t have.”
“Yes, you should,” Kurt says before he can stop himself, because he has no idea what they’re doing, but he knows now that Puck belongs here. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. You’re not second choice, Puck. It’s just…I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”
The whole time he talks he’s edging closer to Puck, wings fluttering frantically behind him in an effort to move him forward. He doesn’t see Puck move, but Kurt knows he must have, because suddenly he’s right there, and when Kurt reaches out a hand, Puck catches it.
As soon as Puck touches him Kurt’s whole body relaxes, and he knows it should embarrass him that he needs this so much, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when Puck’s looking just as relieved as he feels, as though spending the entire day apart has been just as hard on him as it was on Kurt.
Puck’s hand slides up his arm to touch the edge of his wing, fingers stroking Kurt’s feathers and sending a shiver straight down his spine. “What, I can’t just like hanging out with you?”
Kurt’s laugh is shaky, and he reaches up and catches Puck’s hand where it’s tracing the curve of his shoulder now. “It’s not as though I’m complaining. It’s just…unexpected, that’s all. You’re possibly the last person I’d expect to want to be with me. Well, except maybe Finn.”
Puck smiles down at their hands where Kurt’s still holding onto him, then he pulls his hand away and Kurt has to stop himself from reaching out again. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly your type either, right?”
Kurt wants to laugh again, because he’s heard Puck say a lot of dumb things in his time, but that’s possibly the dumbest one yet. The truth is Puck’s pretty much exactly his type, now that he actually stops to think about it. Except that Puck actually looks like he means it - looks like it’s hurting him a little to say it - so Kurt takes a chance and steps forward.
“You’re right. Handsome, well-built, actually able to touch me…not my type at all.”
He expects Puck to laugh at that, maybe flash one of those cocky smiles Kurt’s seen a million times and pull Kurt into his arms. Instead he gets a frown, then Puck looks away and lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I get that we’re stuck with each other.”
“But we’re not,” Kurt says, arms crossed over his chest, and he can’t believe how badly he’s messing this up, but it’s not as though he has a lot of experience with convincing someone that he’s attracted to them. “I mean, you’re not stuck with me. You can leave any time you want, which you demonstrated quite clearly this morning.”
He doesn’t mean to sound so bitter. He’s only stating facts, and it’s nothing Puck doesn’t already know. But his wings are already protesting, fluttering anxiously behind him and no matter how Kurt tries, he can’t get them to behave.
“You actually believe that,” Puck says, in a tone that tells Kurt he’s not even surprised. “You think I can just fuck off whenever and forget about all this? I told you already, I can feel it.”
“Fine, for some bizarre reason you can feel some shadow of the pain I feel when someone touches me. But no one touched me today except you. There was nothing to feel.”
Puck rolls his eyes, then he steps forward and reaches out, and Kurt bites his lip when Puck’s fingers trace the ridge of his left wing. “It’s not just when somebody else is touching you. Why do you think your dad said I could move in? There’s some kind of link between us. It’s strong enough that it showed up on those tests they did at the hospital.”
He pauses, his hand sliding around the back of Kurt’s neck to splay his fingers across Kurt’s skin. “You think I don’t feel the way you relax when I touch you? You think I couldn’t tell how much today sucked? It sucked for me, too, Kurt. The second I get more than ten feet away from you it feels like I’m drowning.”
Kurt’s breath catches in his throat, his hand coming up to curl in the front of Puck’s shirt. “Why is this happening to us?”
They both know there’s no answer to that, so Kurt’s not surprised when Puck just shakes his head and drags Kurt forward to press their lips together. Kurt doesn’t hesitate before he kisses Puck back, grip tightening as though he thinks maybe Puck’s going to try to get away.
The hollow ache in his chest started to ease the second Puck touched him again, and now that Puck’s kissing him Kurt feels like he could fly. That is, if his wings actually worked, and Kurt wants to laugh at the thought, but he’s too busy surging forward to kiss Puck harder. His arms slide around Puck’s neck, wings flapping behind him as Puck moves them backwards until Kurt’s thighs hit the bed.
Kurt sits down hard, Puck dropping to his knees in front of Kurt and pressing his hands to Kurt’s thighs. He leans in and opens his mouth against Kurt’s neck, breathing in deep and gripping Kurt’s legs hard enough to leave bruises.
“I don’t know why it’s happening,” Puck says, voice muffled against his skin, “but I don’t want it to stop.”
Kurt’s hands grip Puck’s shirt again, tugging this time until Puck gets with the program and pulls back long enough to tug it over his head. He drops it on the floor before he reaches for the front of Kurt’s pants, and he can honestly say that never in a million years would he have expected to see Noah Puckerman on his knees in front of him.
But there he is, and when he pulls Kurt’s pants open and slides a hand inside, Kurt bites down hard on his lip and closes his eyes. A second later he opens them again, his whole face flushing at the sight of his dick sliding between Puck’s lips.
It’s not his first blow job - though it’s pretty close - so he manages not to come at the mere sight of Puck with his eyes closed and his cheeks hollowed, one hand still pressed against Kurt’s thigh and the other wrapped loosely around the base of his cock. Puck’s probably been on the receiving end of a lot more blow jobs than Kurt, but that doesn’t mean he understands anything about technique.
In a way it makes Kurt feel a little better that Puck’s less than expert at this, because Kurt’s not exactly a blow job savant or anything, and Puck’s going to know it the first time Kurt goes down on him. Still, there’s something about the sight of Puck’s mouth wrapped around him, eyes dark with lust when he looks up at Kurt, and as soon as he sees Kurt’s flushed cheeks and his red, open lips, Puck sucks a little harder.
Kurt makes a noise he’ll deny all the way to his deathbed and reaches out, sliding a hand along Puck’s scalp and stroking the soft skin there. He’s not really the hair-pulling type, not that Puck has much hair to pull on anyway, but he wants Puck to know he appreciates the effort.
He wants Puck to know he’s enjoying this, but mostly he wants Puck to know that Kurt’s not sorry they’re stuck with each other.
“Puck, I…” he says, and that’s as far as he gets, but Puck must understand somehow, because he pulls off and leans up to kiss Kurt hard, fist still stroking hard until Kurt tenses and thrusts up into his grip and comes.
Puck waits until he stops shaking before he lets go, fingers sliding through the wet heat on Kurt’s stomach before he reaches down to tug his jeans open and pull out his own cock. He’s still kissing Kurt, free hand on the back of Kurt’s neck and holding him in place. Kurt moans against his mouth, pushing at his shoulders to try to get Puck closer, onto the bed where Kurt can return the favor. But before he can make Puck understand what he wants Puck’s gasping and tensing against him, his own come mingling with Kurt’s as he lets go.
Kurt’s hands are on Puck’s cheeks, feathering soft kisses against Puck’s mouth and jaw while he waits for Puck’s breathing to even out. “I would have…”
“Couldn’t wait,” Puck says, then he lets out a shaky laugh and presses forward to kiss Kurt again. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
“Where were you?” Kurt asks, whispering the words against his mouth, and he doesn’t intend for them to sound quite so needy, but that’s how they come out.
“My mom’s house,” Puck answers, finally pushing off his knees to climb onto the bed next to Kurt. They stretch out side by side, Puck’s arm sliding around his waist to bury his fingers in the soft feathers at Kurt’s back. “She finally kicked me out; said watching me mope was giving her a headache.”
Kurt smiles and reaches for the edge of the sheet, doing his best to clean them up before he curls into Puck and presses as much of them together as he can. Puck’s fingers are still stroking through his wings, slow and soft and Kurt doesn’t try to hold back a sigh when warm fingers curl around the joint where his wing meets his back.
“And here I thought maybe you just missed me.”
“I tried not to. I tried not to think about you all day, but I couldn’t stop.”
“And yet you managed to stay away for a long time,” Kurt says, not even bothering to try to keep the accusation out of his voice.
“I thought you wanted me to,” Puck answers, his arm tightening around Kurt’s waist. “Seemed like you weren’t that crazy about having me around.”
Kurt sighs, forehead pressing against Puck’s shoulder and brushing his lips against warm skin. “I didn’t want you to leave. I just didn’t understand what was happening to us. I still don’t.”
Puck rolls onto his back, pulling Kurt with him until Kurt’s head is pillowed on his chest. His wings stretch out, flapping once before they settle down to curl around Kurt’s shoulders and Puck’s chest.
“Maybe God just wanted us together, and this is His way of letting us know.”
“I don’t believe in God,” Kurt says, frowning against Puck’s chest.
“Fine, the universe, then,” Puck answers. “Call it what you want, babe, but if we were meant to be together it was going to happen one way or the other.”
“That’s not the way it works and you know it.” Kurt pushes up on one elbow to look down at Puck, frowning when he realizes Puck’s actually being serious. “People aren’t cosmically destined for each other, no matter what Broadway and Hollywood want us to believe.”
“People don’t just grow wings, either.”
“That’s a low blow,” Kurt says, but he doesn’t pull away when Puck’s hand strokes down the center of his back.
“Doesn’t make it any less true.” Puck lets go of Kurt’s wing and shifts up onto his elbows, leaning up to catch Kurt’s lips in a soft kiss. “I’m just saying, maybe somebody was trying to get our attention.”
“By giving me wings.”
“Yeah, well, you can be kind of stubborn,” Puck says, grinning when Kurt frowns.
“That’s rich, coming from you,” he answers, but his hand betrays him by curving around Puck’s cheek, holding him up so Puck can kiss him again.
And he still doesn’t believe in destiny or soulmates, but Puck seems to, and so far Kurt hasn’t come up with a better explanation. Something neither of them can see or touch is making him crave Puck’s presence, making him need Puck in a way he’s never needed anyone before. Whether it’s some strange chemical reaction or a grand plan neither of them has any control over, he can’t deny that he wants Puck.
He lets Puck pull him back down onto the mattress, arms strong around his waist and kissing Kurt like he’s trying to prove a point. That they really do belong together, maybe, and there’s a part of Kurt that wants to believe he’s right.
Part Four