Fic: A Crash Course In Falling 4/6 (Glee, Kurt/Puck, NC17)
Title: A Crash Course In Falling 4/6
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Puck (Kurt/Blaine)
Rating: NC17
Word count: ~60,000 overall; ~9,500 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.
A/N: Fine, six chapters. I hate everything.
Kurt doesn’t think about the specialist his dad mentioned again until the next day. They’re side by side on the couch, arms and hips and thighs touching, watching an episode of True Life that Kurt’s already seen at least once. It’s the one about the women who regret their plastic surgery, and Kurt’s aware of the irony, but as soon as they show one of the girls in a doctor’s office, he remembers what his dad said about the specialist.
His wings flutter nervously against the couch cushions, and Kurt frowns and shifts his weight until they’re not trapped against his back. As soon as he moves Puck’s hand is on him, sliding up his spine to rest at the spot where feathers meet skin.
“What’s the problem?”
It’s not the first time Kurt’s been annoyed that his wings have a tendency to give away how he’s feeling. He’s not sure if anyone else can tell, but Puck can, and that’s bad enough. That’s one problem going through with the surgery would solve; if he didn’t have any wings to betray him, it would be a lot easier to have some modicum of control over his emotions.
“The doctor called to talk to my dad,” Kurt answers, not quite looking at Puck as he says it. “There’s a specialist in Seattle who thinks he might be able to remove my wings.”
“You mean, like…no,” Puck says, his hand sliding into the feathers at the base of Kurt’s wing as he speaks, as though he can keep them there just by holding on. “No way, Kurt. There’s no telling what that would do to you.”
He has a point; Kurt thought the same thing himself yesterday, after his father brought it up. After his father sort of indicated that he thought it was a good idea, and Kurt can’t help wondering how much of that has to do with his sudden connection to Puck.
“My dad thinks I should go see him. Just to see what he has to say.”
“What else is there to say? He wants to cut off your wings, Kurt,” Puck says, and he sounds so distressed about it that Kurt wishes he hadn’t brought it up. But Puck has a right to know that it’s an option, and Kurt really needs someone to talk to about it.
Puck’s fingers are stroking his right wing, carefully pushing through the feathers without bending them, as though he’s been doing it all his life. He’s good at it - better than Kurt, because at least he can reach all of them - and Kurt finds himself leaning into the touch. It feels fantastic, but it’s distracting, too, and he has to struggle to remember what they were talking about.
“But what if it affected the connection somehow? Maybe if the wings were gone…”
As soon as he says it Puck pulls his hand away, backing up on the couch until they’re not touching at all. Kurt's wings spread hopefully, but he doesn't let himself reach out for Puck, because they have to talk about this sooner or later.
"I already told you, I don't want it to stop."
"I know what you said," Kurt answers, his voice catching on the words, and this shouldn't be so hard, because it's just Puck. Kurt's not in love with him or anything, but the thought of giving him up makes his chest ache all the same. "But what if it's not real? What if it's just because of the wings? There's no telling how long all this will last, Puck. You can't blame me for wanting to know the truth."
"It's real," Puck says, voice fierce in a way Kurt hasn't heard for a long time. "You feel it just as much as I do. Just because you don't want it to be true doesn't mean it's just going to go away."
"I didn't say that." Kurt pauses, cheeks flushing at the look Puck gives him, because okay, he is kind of saying that. But the truth is he doesn't know what he wants, and until he's sure Puck really wants this and he's not just the victim of some weird wing-induced hysteria, Kurt can't let himself trust it. "I never said I don't want...us. I just want to cover all the bases."
He can tell Puck doesn't believe him, but it's the best that Kurt can offer, at least for now. Maybe Puck can just throw himself into a relationship without a second thought about consequences, but Kurt's never been that reckless. Sure, he went after Blaine, but only after carefully weighing the situation from all sides and deciding that he and Blaine were perfect for one another. There's nothing about him and Puck that makes sense, but that doesn't stop the pull Kurt feels in his gut every time Puck's anywhere near him, and that's the part Kurt can't trust.
Then again, if it's just lust, he should have gotten it out of his system already. But they’ve had sex more than once now, and the fact remains that Kurt still wants more. He inches a little closer on the couch before he realizes he's moving, reaching out and resting a hand on Puck's thigh.
"Please, Puck. You know I can't do this without you."
"I'm not going to fucking Seattle," Puck says, as though the city's personally offended him somehow. He probably wouldn't even know where Seattle is if it wasn't for Nirvana, but Kurt doesn't say so. Instead he inches closer still, and when his wing stretches out to stroke along Puck's shoulder, Puck reaches up to run his fingers along the tip. "How would we even get there? It's not like you can get on a plane and just hope nobody bumps into you the entire way across the country."
It's a valid question, one Kurt hasn't even considered, because he's been too busy trying not to think about this so-called specialist to worry about the logistics of traveling. "I don't know."
Puck lets out a frustrated breath, but he's stroking along the ridge of Kurt's wing now, and Kurt wants to crawl over him and hold him down so he can't let go again. He settles for inching even closer, facing Puck and drawing his other wing over his shoulder so Puck can run his hands along both ridges at once.
"Look, even if they could get rid of the wings," Puck says, his grip tightening for a second before he catches himself and eases up again, "it might not change anything. It's not like other people could touch you all of a sudden, right? So what's the difference?"
"That's the thing. There's no way of knowing unless we try."
"And if it works and this thing between us goes away?"
"Then I guess we'll know it wasn't real after all," Kurt answers, but just saying the words makes his chest ache, and he doesn't even try to keep the misery out of his voice.
Puck lets out a growl and lets go of Kurt's wings, then he grips Kurt's hips and yanks him forward to press their lips together. The kiss is hard and desperate and Kurt whimpers against his mouth and holds on, gripping Puck's shoulders too hard and trying to pull him even closer. Puck takes the hint and leans back on the couch, lets Kurt straddle his hips and push him back against the cushions and keep kissing him like it's his job. Like it's his only reason for living, and right now it feels like that's true.
"It's real," Puck murmurs against his mouth, hand in Kurt's hair and yanking hard enough to look in Kurt's eyes. His eyes are dark and determined, and Kurt's heart picks up speed at the sound of his voice. "It's real."
Kurt nods, because he's still not sure he believes it, but he knows Puck does. He slides his arms around Puck's shoulders to kiss him again, and they can't do this here, because his family will be back eventually, and he's pretty sure none of them would appreciate walking in on Kurt letting Puck fuck him on the living room couch.
He's never done that before -- never considered it, not even with Blaine -- and until he thinks it for the first time he has no idea it's even on the table. But Puck's hard and thrusting up against him, and when Kurt angles his ass to press down against Puck's lap, Puck lets out a wrecked moan that goes straight to Kurt's cock.
Puck's hands slide up his back, gripping the joints of his wings and digging his thumbs into the tender skin there, making Kurt gasp and press down harder against him. He rocks forward, seeking some friction - anything to relieve the pressure already building in his groin - and he knows he's going to come in his pants, but he doesn't really care. All he cares about is the way Puck's kissing him, like he can't get enough, like he'll never get enough no matter how many times they do this.
"Puck," Kurt whispers against his mouth, and he's pretty sure Puck can't hear him, but he says it again anyway. "Puck, I want..."
It's not really a surprise when the garage door opens, but when Kurt hears his dad and Finn's voices in the kitchen he scrambles off Puck's lap and then off the couch. For a second Puck just blinks up at him, looking confused and sort of lost, and Kurt's heart clenches hard as he holds out a hand for Puck to take.
Finally Puck gets with the program and lets Kurt pull him to his feet and toward the stairs, tripping over their own footsteps in their hurry to get to Kurt's room before Finn or his dad walk in and see them. One look and they'd both know exactly what Kurt and Puck were doing before they came in, and Kurt's not ready to deal with that yet. Not until he figures out what they'd be walking in on, exactly; if it's just sex that's one thing, but it hasn't felt like 'just’ anything since the start.
When they get to his room Puck kicks the door shut and reaches out to catch Kurt around the waist, pulling him close, and Kurt expects another bruising kiss. Instead Puck just looks for a second, dark eyes searching Kurt's face for the answer to some question he hasn't asked.
"Tell me you don't want me."
"Of course I want you," Kurt says, cheeks flushing, because he assumed that much, at least, was obvious. "That's not the problem."
"We want each other," Puck answers, hands moving in distracting little circles on Kurt's back, and that's so not playing fair. "I don’t see a problem."
Kurt rolls his eyes, because honestly, at this point he's fairly sure Puck's being deliberately obtuse. "We can't stay locked up in my bedroom forever."
"Doesn't sound like such a bad plan to me," Puck says, leaning in to open his mouth against the side of Kurt's neck. Kurt lets out a breathy sigh, but he tightens his hands on Puck's shoulders and does his best to push him to a safe distance. Considering Puck's built of solid muscle, he doesn't succeed in much more than making Puck laugh, but he eases his grip on Kurt enough to kiss his way up his jaw instead.
"As appealing as that sounds right now, eventually we're going to get tired of these four walls. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life in hiding? I had plans, you know."
"Plans change," Puck answers, his voice low and rough and sending a thrill of want down Kurt's spine. He presses closer to the warmth of Puck's chest, and when Puck's mouth lands on his neck again, Kurt tilts his head to give him better access.
"What about your plan to enlist?"
Puck's mouth stills on his skin, but he doesn't straighten up right away. Kurt feels Puck inhale against his neck, fingers flexing against his back before he pulls back to look at Kurt. "Like I said, plans change."
Reliefs floods Kurt as soon as he says it, and he knows it must show on his face, because Puck smiles and reaches up to run a thumb along his bottom lip. "What, you thought I was going to ditch you to go off and play soldier with Finn?"
"As far as I knew it was still on the table," Kurt answers. And he knows what changed Puck's mind, knows that it's this weird pull between them that might not even be real. Except it feels real, and no matter how hard Kurt denies it, it doesn't seem to be going anywhere.
"Finn's going to have plenty of guys to watch his back. He doesn't need me," Puck says, doesn't add, like you do, but Kurt hears it anyway. He doesn't bother denying it, because they both know it's true. They need each other, for whatever reason, whether it's because of Kurt's wings or something else entirely.
He leans in to kiss Puck again, lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, and Puck makes a noise in the back of his throat and turns into him. Puck kisses him slow, hands sliding up and down his back like he's trying to memorize Kurt. His fingers brush Kurt's wings, stroking along the feathers and sending little shivers of pleasure to coil in Kurt's belly. It's nothing like their kiss in the living room; that was all heat and desperate urgency, but somehow this is even better, because it feels almost like a promise of things to come.
His father's right downstairs, Finn too, but all Kurt can think about is getting Puck as close as possible. He wants to crawl inside him, pull him close and never, ever let go. It hits him with a force he doesn't expect, making his knees wobble and then Puck's arms are tightening around him and moving him backwards toward the bed. And that's a great idea, but Kurt has an even better one, so he leans in to press a soft kiss to Puck's lips, then he shoves until Puck sits down hard on the edge of the mattress.
"Wait right here," he says, pulling away before Puck can ask what he thinks he's doing. And he's not really prepared for this, but if he gives himself time to think he'll talk himself out of it, so he focuses on the memory of Puck's hands on him and reaches into a drawer for one of the condoms his father handed over during the second most embarrassing sex talk of his life.
He hadn't gone so far as to buy lube, which is probably for the best, since Kurt probably would have died of humiliation, which means he wouldn't have needed the condoms in the first place. But they're going to need something, so Kurt hesitates with his hand over a jar before he blushes and picks it up.
Supplies in hand, he crosses back to the bed to find Puck still sitting exactly where Kurt left him, shirt gone but his pants still on, and Kurt rolls his eyes and drops the jar and the condom on the mattress. Puck glances down at them for a second, then he looks up at Kurt, and if there was any chance of Kurt changing his mind, it's gone as soon as Puck looks at him.
"Yeah?"
Kurt nods, blushing as he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down his thighs, leaving him standing in front of Puck in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Puck swallows hard and stands up, unbuttoning his own jeans and kicking off shoes and socks before he shoves his jeans down to join the rest of his clothes on the floor.
The quick break in action hasn't done anything to diminish his erection, and when Kurt remembers just how big it is his heart picks up speed for a whole new reason. Because there's no way he's actually going to get that thing inside of him, no matter how much part of him wants to try.
And he must look like he's thinking about hyperventilating, like that's not completely humiliating, because suddenly Puck's in front of him, hands on his shoulders and pulling him forward to press soft kisses to his cheeks and his eyes and his mouth. "Relax, babe. I'm gonna take good care of you."
It's such a cheesy thing to say that Kurt can't help laughing, but instead of asking Puck just how much porn he's watched during his high school career, he just nods and lets Puck hook his thumbs into Kurt's boxer briefs and slide them down his thighs. Kurt steps out of them and lets Puck pull him back toward the bed, then he lets Puck sit down and move back on the mattress until Kurt has enough room to straddle his thighs again.
He sort of expects Puck to jump right to the action; they got a decent head start downstairs, after all, but he doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. His hands run up and down Kurt’s back slowly, as though they’ve got all the time in the world, pupils blown wide with lust and something else as he looks back at Kurt.
It’s the something else that makes Kurt’s heart stutter, and when Puck says his name Kurt presses forward to kiss him hard. He’s only vaguely aware that they’re moving, but the next time he comes up for air Puck’s back is pressed against his headboard and his hands are on Kurt’s hips to rock them together.
Kurt bites down on a moan, trying to stay quiet because it’s the middle of the day and his dad and Finn are right downstairs. That’s a good enough reason to stop, to pull away and tell Puck this is a bad idea and they can pick things up later, once everyone’s asleep. Except this feels important somehow, as though it’s more than just Kurt wanting to be as close to Puck as possible.
He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but he’s not willing to give it up. Just the thought makes his stomach drop as though he’s on a rollercoaster, and when Puck’s hand leaves his hip to curve around his ass, Kurt lets out a sharp, surprised breath and blushes hard.
Puck’s low chuckle rumbles against his neck, vibrating in his chest and making Kurt blush even harder. And he should have known that Puck would have some experience with this, regardless of the fact that Kurt’s almost positive he’s the first man Puck’s been with. His hands are sure, at any rate, fingers pushing Kurt’s cheeks apart and his thumb sliding across Kurt’s opening and making him shudder.
He registers Puck’s whispered shh and thinks about being offended, but Puck’s sucking on his neck now, and the sensation drives every other thought out of Kurt’s brain. His world narrows down to the rough drag of Puck’s thumb teasing his entrance and the hot, wet suction on Kurt’s skin, and when Puck’s thumb disappears Kurt has to bite his lip to hold back a disappointed whine.
Puck feels around for the jar of cream he’s actually managed to drag up the bed with them, glancing down at it for a second before he looks up at Kurt again. “What is this stuff?”
“Very expensive eye cream,” Kurt says, and he’d thought he was already at maximum blush capacity, but somehow his skin gets even hotter. “It’s the best I can do on short notice.”
“Works for me,” Puck says, then his twists the lid off the jar and digs a finger in. Kurt spares a moment of regret for the amount of money they’re about to waste, then Puck’s finger is circling his opening, and he decides it’s worth it. His head drops forward, eyes closed and focusing on the tease of Puck’s finger circling him - circling but not pushing inside - and Kurt makes an impatient noise and pushes back into his touch.
The tip of Puck’s finger slides inside him and Kurt freezes, because that’s exactly what he was aiming for, but he didn’t really expect it until it actually happened. It feels…a little weird, certainly, but not painful at all, and he takes a breath and forces his eyes open to look at Puck.
Puck who’s looking right back at him, eyes almost black now and his expression an odd mixture of lust and surprise. Like maybe he didn’t really expect Kurt to go through with it, and now that he knows Kurt’s serious, he’s not so sure of himself.
Then their eyes meet and Puck lets out a sound that doesn’t even sound human, his finger sliding a little deeper as he presses forward to kiss Kurt again. Kisses him and kisses him, tongue sliding past his teeth and breathing hard against his mouth and his finger pushing in and out of Kurt, agonizingly slow, keeping time with his tongue where it’s fucking Kurt’s mouth.
Kurt’s aware that he’s breathing hard, panting through his nose and his fingers digging into Puck’s shoulders to pull him closer, probably leaving marks, but Puck doesn’t seem to mind. The hand that’s not busy working Kurt open slides up his back, gripping the joint of Kurt’s left wing and dragging a moan out of Kurt.
His fingers push through the soft, downy feathers along the wing joint until Kurt’s rocking back against Puck, pushing for more until Puck’s finger is buried as deep inside him as it can get. He thinks about how they must look, wishes for a moment that he could see, then blushes all over again.
Puck’s finger slides out of him and Kurt moans at the loss, then he fumbles for the jar of cream again and Kurt writes the entire thing off as a loss. Worth it, he thinks and starts to laugh, but the sound shifts to a moan when Puck slides two fingers inside him.
He’s still taking his time, letting Kurt set the pace, and Kurt can’t decide if it’s uncharacteristically sweet or if Puck just can’t stand to cause Kurt any pain when he knows he’ll be able to feel it too. Then again, Kurt’s not sure if their connection works that way. He knows Puck can feel it when someone else touches him, and he knows Puck can feel it when he’s upset, but they haven’t really tested the limits of their connection yet.
Kurt considers asking, but then Puck angles his wrist a little and hits a spot inside Kurt that makes his whole body shudder, and he forgets what he was thinking about.
“Oh,” Kurt hears himself breathe, as though it’s taken him by surprise, and when Puck laughs again it’s filled with so much affection that Kurt can’t bring himself to mind.
He knows what a prostate is, obviously, and apparently Puck does too, because he hits it again, rubbing deliberately this time, and Kurt moans and drops his head onto Puck’s shoulder. “Puck…”
His voice is broken and desperate and he can’t manage more than Puck’s name, but somehow he gets it. He’s pulling his fingers free, at any rate, letting go of Kurt’s wings too, then he’s reaching for the condom and tearing the package open. He swears at it for a second when it resists his slick fingers, and Kurt laughs against his shoulder and reaches for Puck’s hand.
He pulls the condom out of Puck’s grip and opens it with shaking fingers, then he sits back on his heels and reaches for Puck’s cock. Puck groans and thrusts up once, then he stills his hips with an effort to let Kurt roll the condom down. Maybe it’s a mistake, because as soon as he touches Puck he remembers exactly how much bigger his dick is than his fingers, and Kurt swallows at the thought of opening enough to take Puck inside him.
Fingers are one thing; the strange sense of fullness is almost enjoyable after a while, but even with just two fingers he could feel his tight ring of muscle stretching nearly to its limit. This is…this is probably crazy, but when Puck looks up at him and raises an eyebrow, Kurt just nods and reaches for the jar of cream to slick up Puck’s cock.
“It’ll be easier if you bend over,” Puck says, like he’s an expert all of a sudden, and when Kurt remembers that he probably is, he flushes and nods. Before he can climb off Puck’s lap a hand lands on his hip to hold him still, then Puck’s leaning up and kissing him hard.
He hooks an arm around Kurt’s waist and pulls him flush against Puck’s chest, fingers grazing his feathers and making Kurt hum against his mouth and squirm in his lap. For a second he thinks maybe Puck’s changed his mind, that he wants to do it just like this, and Kurt wouldn’t mind. But the next thing he knows they’re moving, Puck’s hands on him to push him backwards and then onto his knees to brace his elbows on the mattress.
Kurt has a second to feel self-conscious about being on display like this before Puck’s hand slides down his back, knees easing Kurt’s legs a little further apart and his hand landing on Kurt’s ass to pull him open.
“Damn, that’s hot,” Puck says, and Kurt’s blushing again, but his wings are spread and fluttering, and when a hand strokes down his feathers Kurt thinks that might be what Puck’s talking about.
Puck’s fingers dig in, following the line of Kurt’s wing until Kurt’s making a noise that sounds a little like a purr and pushing back against him. When he feels Puck’s cock slide against his ass he tenses, but Puck’s hand keeps stroking through his feathers and he’s making soft noises in his throat, and before Kurt realizes what’s happening Puck’s pushing inside him.
The stretch is uncomfortable in a way that Puck’s fingers weren’t, and when his breath catches and his fingers curl around the sheets underneath him, Puck stops moving. Both his hands are on Kurt’s wings now, sliding along the ridges and pushing his thumbs into the soft down just under the bone.
Slowly Kurt starts to relax, muscles unclenching to let Puck in a little further. He bites down hard on his arm, fighting to keep quiet so his dad doesn’t come up to investigate and walk in on something he can’t unsee. But thinking about his dad right now definitely isn’t helping him relax, so Kurt focuses on the feeling of Puck’s hands stroking along his wings and his cock pushing slowly inside him.
He’s not sure how long it takes before Puck’s all the way in; moments, probably, but it feels as though time has stopped somehow. His thighs are shaking and he’s not sure how he’s holding himself up, but when Puck’s hands find the joints of his wings and press against the spot where they meet his back, Kurt groans and pushes back to meet him.
That’s all Puck needs to start moving, slow at first and then faster, rocking his hips in time with Kurt’s backwards thrusts. His hands are still buried in Kurt’s wings, pushing through his feathers carefully, and Kurt would admire his concentration if his brain hadn’t melted out his ear when Puck pushed inside him. As it is, all he can do is feel, rocking back against Puck, and it still hurts a little, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting more.
More and more, and when Puck leans forward and presses a kiss between Kurt’s shoulder blades, he moans and pushes back even harder. Puck’s arm slides around his waist for the second time, then Kurt’s being pulled backwards, his head falling back onto Puck’s shoulder and leaning hard against his chest.
His wings are spread wide to let Puck press close, mouth on the side of Kurt’s neck and his thrusts are more shallow now, but he’s hitting that spot over and over. Puck’s hand closes around Kurt’s dick, gripping hard and letting Kurt thrust up into his hand, rocking between Puck’s cock and his fist. It’s way too much, and when Kurt feels heat coiling tight in his stomach his wings curl around Puck’s shoulders without his permission.
He tries to coax them open, but before he manages Puck’s mouth leaves his neck to whisper in his ear. “It’s cool. I like them.”
Kurt parts his lips to answer, but all he manages is a soft sigh, his wings fluttering softly against Puck’s skin. He thinks he should be embarrassed, but Puck doesn’t seem to mind, and when Puck’s grip twists a little and his thumb slides across the head of Kurt’s cock, he clenches hard around Puck and comes.
Puck thrusts up one last time, hard, then he tenses against Kurt, his arm tightening around Kurt’s waist as he lets go too. He’s breathing hard against Kurt’s neck, still trapped in the circle of Kurt’s wings, and for a second Kurt wishes they could just stay like this. He knows as soon as Puck moves things will be weird again, that his brain will turn back on and he won’t be able to stop the worry from crowding in.
He’ll have to start thinking about doctors and his dad and why Puck’s doing all this in the first place, about what’s going to happen if he’s stuck with his wings forever, and what’s going to happen if he’s not. His wings droop a little at the thought, slipping from around Puck’s shoulders, and a second later Puck pulls out of him.
Kurt winces at the sensation, biting his lip to keep from making any noise as Puck presses one last kiss to the side of his neck and then climbs off the bed. Kurt collapses onto the mattress, stretching out on his stomach and closing his eyes as he listens to Puck moving around in the bathroom.
The mattress dips next to him before Kurt’s ready, then Puck’s hands are on him again, curving around his back and tracing the ridges of his wings. He doesn’t want to like it, doesn’t want to lean back into it, because he still doesn’t know what any of this means. But Puck’s hands are warm and familiar, and Kurt finds himself rolling onto his side to curve against Puck’s chest, and if he lets Puck hold him for a little while, it’s not really hurting anyone.
~
Kurt waits until Puck falls asleep, steady breath against his neck and the warm weight of Puck’s arm draped around his waist making it hard to wiggle out from under him without waking him. But Puck’s a fairly heavy sleeper, as it turns out, so Kurt manages to climb out of bed undetected, crossing to the bathroom to clean up a little before he pulls his clothes back on.
He’s moving a little slower than usual, and he’s just as glad that Puck’s asleep so he won’t witness the way Kurt winces every so often when he turns the wrong way. Then again, there’s a good chance he’ll be able to feel Kurt’s discomfort anyway, and the thought alone is enough to make Kurt blush all over again.
For a moment or two he stands at the end of the bed and just looks at Puck, naked and completely unself-conscious, and Kurt knows it wouldn’t be any different if he weren’t fast asleep. And he knows Puck wants to be here -- if nothing else, he believes at least that much -- but there’s still the lingering feeling in the back of Kurt’s mind that he should feel guilty about it.
There’s the way things worked out with Blaine, sure, and the amount of worry and stress he’s putting his dad through, when they all know he’s never going to be a hundred percent out of the woods when it comes to his heart. But worse even than both of those is the nagging worry that somehow he’s keeping Puck here against his will, that he’s got it in his head that he can’t leave, not as long as Kurt needs him.
He doesn’t want to be someone’s charity project. He doesn’t want Puck sticking around out of some misplaced sense of obligation, no matter how much it would hurt Kurt if he did leave. And it would hurt, both physically and emotionally, which is the part Kurt’s having the hardest time with.
He didn’t expect to have feelings for Puck, especially considering their history. Then again, he never would have predicted that Puck would be attracted to him in any way, yet there he is, spread out in Kurt’s bed like he belongs there. The thought makes Kurt’s heart flutter in time with his wings, and he feels them trying to propel him forward, back into bed to curl around Puck and breathe in as much of him as he can.
Kurt turns away before he gives in to the urge, pulling his bedroom door open and then closing it behind him, leaving Puck alone to drool on his pillow and dream about football or sex or being a rock star. His wings flutter again, disgruntled at not getting their way, and Kurt rolls his eyes and ignores them as he makes his way downstairs.
He finds his dad in the living room, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other, and Kurt watches him flip through channels until he lands on an old episode of Deadliest Catch. Kurt laughs under his breath and crosses to the couch, curling into the corner and smiling when his dad looks up at him.
“Someday you’re going to announce that you’re retiring to spend the rest of your days fishing in Alaska, aren’t you?”
His dad laughs and sets his beer down, then he turns down the volume and looks over at Kurt. “I don’t think I’m really cut out for that job. I have thought about taking Carole up there, though. They have these cruises on the Bering Sea, and after you can ride a train across Canada. She’d probably like that.”
Kurt smiles at the thought of his dad and Carole becoming one of those couples that go on cruises, raiding the midnight buffets and playing tourist in every port and sending back postcards with palm trees on them to let Kurt know how much fun they’re having. Because of course he’ll still be here, stuck in the house like Mrs. Rochester, the secret everyone knows about but no one discusses.
“Where’s Puckerman?” his dad asks, gaze carefully trained on the screen again as one of the crews pulls a mostly empty crab pot aboard.
“Sleeping,” Kurt answers, and it doesn’t have to mean anything, but he blushes anyway.
His dad nods and reaches for his beer again, and Kurt tells himself it doesn’t mean anything. There’s no reason for his dad to know what they were doing before Puck fell asleep; Kurt’s fairly sure they managed to be quiet, at any rate, and besides, his dad’s the one who assumed there was something going on between them and let Puck move in anyway.
“You thought any more about what the doctor said?” his dad asks, looking away from the TV long enough to watch Kurt shrug.
“A little. Puck thinks it’s a bad idea.”
His dad raises his eyebrows at that, but he doesn’t comment. Instead he sets his beer back on the table and turns back to the TV. “What do you think?”
“I understand why he doesn’t want me to do it,” Kurt answers, though he knows that’s not what his father meant. His wings flutter behind him, making it clear that they’re on Puck’s side, and Kurt swallows a frustrated sigh and leans back against the couch cushions to trap them in place.
“Listen, son, I appreciate what Puckerman’s doing for you and all, but it’s not his decision. If you want to go hear what this doctor has to say...”
“How would we even get to Seattle?” Kurt interrupts, Puck’s words echoing in his head. “It’s not as though I can fly commercial.”
“Being a Senator comes with some perks. If you want to see this guy, we’ll get you there.”
“Our taxpayer dollars at work?” Kurt says, smiling when his dad laughs. “It’s not that I want to be stuck with wings forever. But even if this doctor can remove them, we have no idea what will happen. What if it makes things even worse?”
What if they take them off and even Puck can’t touch me anymore? he doesn’t say. What if he doesn’t want to?
He’s fairly sure his father hasn’t developed the ability to read his mind, but he frowns as though he knows what Kurt’s thinking all the same. Maybe it’s just because he’s known Kurt his whole life, or maybe Kurt’s just gotten really bad at hiding his feelings since he sprouted a pair of wings, but somehow he can tell his father knows he’s thinking about Puck. Somehow he knows this all boils down to the two of them, and there’s no way Kurt can make a decision without him, no matter what his dad says.
“You’re going to have to be the one to decide if that’s a risk you’re willing to take,” his dad says, then he sighs and turns back to the TV. “It’s your life, son.”
Kurt’s pretty sure that what his dad means is that it might be his only chance to have a life. He might even be right, and there’s a huge part of Kurt that wants to take it. But taking the chance that this might give him his life back means taking another, even bigger chance that he’ll lose what he’s already got, and he’s not sure it’s worth the trade-off.
~
When Puck wakes up, Kurt doesn’t mention the conversation with his dad. He doesn’t want to start another argument, and anyway they’ve both already said everything there is to say. Puck likes his wings; whether it’s because he’s the only one who can touch them, or if he’s developed a fetish, Kurt isn’t sure, but whatever the reason, Puck wants them to stay. He’s made that much perfectly clear, so Kurt doesn’t see the need to point out that his father’s already worked out a plan to get them to Seattle the minute Kurt says the word.
If Kurt’s quieter than usual at dinner no one seems to notice; he hasn’t had much to say recently anyway, considering he never leaves the house unless it’s to go see a doctor. Besides, the closer they get to the day Finn leaves for basic training, the quieter everyone’s gotten, and Kurt knows his dad and Carole have more to worry about than just his strange predicament. They’re supposed to be moving to D.C. in the fall, and no one’s brought it up since graduation day, but Kurt has a feeling those plans are on hold, at least until he figures out what he’s going to do.
After dinner Finn and Puck commandeer the living room television for some kind of video game marathon, and Kurt sticks around to watch for awhile, trying to pretend everything’s normal. But there’s only so much of watching the two of them blow things up that he can stand, and finally he excuses himself and goes to bed early.
He’s not sure what time it is when Puck finally follows him upstairs, but he’s still awake with the bedroom door opens, and when Puck shuts off the bathroom light and slides under the covers, Kurt turns onto his side and presses his cheek to the warmth of Puck’s bare chest. Puck’s arms slide around him, heavy against his waist and brushing the bottom of Kurt’s wings. He feels Puck’s lips brush the top of his head, and Kurt has to squeeze his eyes shut and wait for his heart to stop racing.
“If you stay,” Kurt says, grateful for the darkness, because he’s positive he wouldn’t be brave enough to say this in the daylight, “If you stay, and if I don’t go to Seattle, what happens then?”
Puck’s arms tighten around his waist as though maybe he’s expecting Kurt to try to pull away. As though he can keep Kurt with him if he just holds on hard enough, and Kurt swallows hard and turns his face a little further into Puck’s neck while he waits for an answer.
“Guess we can’t stay here forever. Your dad’s been pretty cool about letting me crash here so far, but even he’s probably got his limits. And there’s no way my mom’s letting us move in, unless you can get knocked up now too.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Kurt mumbles against his skin, feels Puck’s answering laugh vibrate in his chest.
“So I guess that means we’re going to have to think about getting our own place eventually. I’ve pretty much blown most of the pool cleaning season already, but it’s not like it ever brought in all that much money anyway.”
“You want to…move in together.”
“I figure we’re already kind of living together, right?” Puck says, but he doesn’t sound quite as sure as he was a few seconds ago.
And the thing is, Kurt doesn’t hate the idea. He knows he should; it’s way too soon, and they don’t know anything about how long this thing between them will last. But Kurt once promised Blaine they’d last forever, and that hadn’t worked out so well, so maybe his chances with Puck aren’t any worse than anybody else’s.
Besides, Puck’s right that they can’t stay here forever; he knows his dad won’t ask him to leave, but it’s impossible to say how long he’ll put up with Puck hanging around and sharing Kurt’s bed. He knows his dad didn’t love the idea to begin with, and if he refuses to see this specialist because Puck doesn’t want him to, that’s probably going to get worse.
That doesn’t mean that moving in together is the answer, especially when Kurt has no idea what he’s going to do with the rest of his life, and Puck doesn’t have much more direction than he does. He can’t expect Puck to support him, to pay all the bills while Kurt stays hidden away in some cheap apartment like a 1950s housewife. Technically they’re not even dating, and Kurt wants to laugh at the thought, because it’s so absurd, but instead he bites his lip and leans a little further into Puck.
“My dad won’t kick us out. Not right away, at least.”
“Yeah?” Puck says, his hand moving on Kurt’s back now to drag him a little closer. “Guess that gives us some time to make a new plan.”
Kurt nods and closes his eyes to listen to Puck’s heart beat through his chest. “I suppose it does.”
He wonders how much thought Puck’s put into all of this -- it sounds as though he’s been thinking it through, at any rate -- but he doesn’t ask. Instead he focuses on the feeling of Puck’s fingers pushing through his feathers, slow and deliberate, taking pains not to bend them in the wrong direction. Kurt shivers against him and buries his face in Puck’s neck, mouth open against his pulse point and scraping his teeth along Puck’s skin.
The grip on his feathers tightens for a second before Puck forces his fingers to relax, and Kurt hears the way his breathing changes. He mouths his way up Puck’s neck and along his jaw, one hand braced against the center of Puck’s chest as Puck turns into him and presses their lips together.
Instantly he’s overwhelmed with the need to be as close to Puck as possible, some magnetic force pulling them together and making him push for more. And Puck lets him, lets Kurt push him back against the mattress and slide a knee between Puck’s thighs, arms around Kurt’s waist and rocking them together while they kiss.
Puck’s hands are everywhere, sliding along his wings and his skin, down to his ass and making Kurt hiss against his mouth. Pulling Kurt closer and closer, as though he’s just as desperate for contact as Kurt is, and no matter how hard Puck kisses him or how tight he holds on, it’s not enough.
“Kurt,” Puck murmurs, over and over against his mouth, and every time he hears it Kurt’s wings stretch and flutter behind him.
He’s not sure which of them comes first. He doesn’t remember making the decision to close his hand around Puck’s cock, doesn’t know how long they rock together, Puck’s hand keeping rhythm with Kurt’s own, until they’re not kissing so much as sharing air, foreheads pressed together and wet heat coating hands and stomachs.
Puck catches his breath first, leaning up to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of Kurt’s neck. He kisses Kurt’s jaw, then his lips, and when Kurt opens his mouth Puck takes the invitation gladly. He lets Puck ease him back onto the mattress, wings folded tight against his back and his arms around Puck’s neck to pull him close, never breaking the kiss as Puck stretches out on top of him.
He knows if they don’t stop long enough to clean up they’re going to stick together, but he can’t bring himself to care when Puck’s still kissing him like he needs this to breathe. Like he needs Kurt just as much as Kurt needs him, and it’s a crazy thought, but that’s exactly how it feels, and Kurt desperately wants to believe it.
~
They don’t wake up stuck together, exactly, but there’s dried come on Kurt’s stomach, flaking and itchy and he makes a face and rolls away from Puck to frown down at it. His pajamas are long gone, though he has no memory of taking them off, and his head’s a little fuzzy, as though he’s been drinking.
Kurt sits up on the mattress, pulling out of Puck’s grip completely and stretching his wings behind him, but there’s a weird pull in some of the feathers on the right side, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t reach the spot that’s giving him trouble.
He’s still trying when Puck wakes up, blinking and sitting up to lean in and brush his lips against Kurt’s neck. “Babe, what are you doing?”
“There’s something wrong with my wing,” he says, frowning and twisting a little harder to try to see the damage. “It feels like some of the feathers are...stuck.”
He’s still got a grip on the tip of his right wing, holding it in place as he tries in vain to turn far enough to see the problem. When Puck’s hands push his away Kurt lets out a frustrated breath, but Puck can certainly reach better than he can, so Kurt surrenders to his touch. His fingers push through Kurt’s feathers carefully, but when they reach the spot in question and try to separate his feathers, Kurt feels a dull tug.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry,” Puck says, fingers moving more gently this time, but after a few seconds he stops and clears his throat. “Uh.”
“What?” Kurt asks, panic rising in his throat, because honestly, it’s bad enough he has wings without them mutating on him or something. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, relax. It’s just...I think maybe I touched your wing last night, after you came on my hand. Your feathers are kind of...stuck together.”
Kurt feels his whole face flush, and when Puck snickers behind him Kurt elbows him in the stomach. “It’s not funny.”
“Come on, babe, it’s kind of funny,” Puck says, rubbing his stomach, but his abs are made out of Teflon, so Kurt’s pretty sure he didn’t even feel it.
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to wash these stupid things?” Kurt asks, pulling out of Puck’s grip and climbing off the bed. His feather flutter behind him, but it feels weird when some of them can’t move, and he rolls his eyes and heads for the bathroom.
Puck catches up with him just as he turns the shower on, arms sliding around his waist and pressing what Kurt assumes are apologetic kisses to the back of his neck. They feel nice, at any rate, and Kurt sighs and lets Puck steer him under the water.
“How do you wash them, anyway?” Puck asks, hands on Kurt’s back and letting the spray hit his wings.
“I’ve tried a few different things, but it’s been hard to reach them. They mostly seem to take care of themselves, but I can’t really tell if I’m keeping up with them.”
Kurt twists his head and tries to watch as Puck runs his hands over the damp feathers, fingers spreading them gently as he gets close to spot where they’re stuck together with Kurt’s come, apparently. He makes a face and turns away again, head down and eyes falling closed to focus on the way Puck’s touching him.
“So are you supposed to use soap or what?”
Kurt blushes, and he’s glad he’s not facing Puck now, because he can’t face Puck when he admits that he’s actually researched this. “Apparently you’re only supposed to use fresh water. That’s how people bathe their parrots, anyway.”
“What’d you do, buy a book or something?”
He hears Puck’s soft snort of laughter, but his fingers are moving carefully through Kurt’s feathers, working them apart until Kurt can’t feel them pulling at all anymore.
“Of course not. I googled it,” Kurt says, stretching his wings experimentally. They feel a lot better, so he doesn’t complain when Puck leans forward to rest his forehead against Kurt’s shoulder. That is, until he feels Puck shaking, and Kurt scowls and shrugs him off. “I’m glad you find this so amusing. There’s no precedent for this, what was I supposed to do? You try living with a pair of wings and see if you do any better.”
“No way, babe,” Puck answers, hands back on the ridges of Kurt’s wings to stroke along his feathers. “I don’t know anybody else who could pull off this look.”
Kurt’s feathers bristle under Puck’s touch and he feels himself tense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Puck sighs against his neck as he pulls Kurt a little closer, hands leaving his wings to rest on his hips. “It means you’re the only person I know who’s badass enough to pull off wings. You rock this look, babe. I wish everybody could see it.”
Kurt’s pretty sure Puck’s just sucking up now, but he can’t quite hold back a snort of laughter. And maybe there would have been a time when he could have made wings look amazing, but now that he doesn’t have a choice, it’s a little harder to see the humor in the situation. As it stands, he can only get away with this ‘look’ one day a year, and even on Halloween he’ll have to worry about people accidentally touching him.
Puck’s mouth is moving against his neck again, sucking slow kisses into his skin until Kurt’s breathless and leaning back into him. It’s not necessarily leading anywhere. It could; Kurt knows all he has to do is turn around and slide his arms around Puck’s neck and they could both forget about conversation for a while longer. Instead Kurt covers the hand that’s resting on his stomach, fingers sliding through Puck’s and holding on.
“What if I did go to Seattle?”
“What do you mean?” Puck asks, and Kurt feels the way he tenses.
“You know what I mean. You said if I didn’t go that we’d be...together. That if nothing changes you’ll stay. But what if the doctor could remove them? What if they were gone and everything else went back to normal?”
Puck lets out a heavy sigh against his neck, then he lets go, and Kurt has to force himself to turn around and face Puck. When he sees Puck’s expression he wants to take it back, but he needs to know, so instead he crosses his arms over his chest and waits.
“What, you think I’d bail? What the hell, Kurt?”
“I’m just asking,” Kurt says, but he can hear the edge in his voice, so he knows Puck can hear it too.
He reaches over to shut the water off, because the last thing they need is for his dad to come up to yell at him about wasting water and find them naked and having some kind of stand-off in the shower. Puck doesn’t even seem to notice; he’s too busy staring at Kurt like he can’t decide whether to walk away or just shake him really hard.
Personally, Kurt would prefer neither. What he wants is for Puck to tell him it wouldn’t make a difference, that he doesn’t understand why any more than Kurt does, but somehow the feelings that were foisted upon him by Kurt’s wings became real. Only Puck’s never been all that eloquent, so Kurt’s not surprised when all he comes up with is, “Seriously, what the fuck?”
Kurt heaves a sigh that probably sounds irritated, but the truth is he’s just tired of wondering. It hasn’t even been that long since this thing between them started, but already Kurt’s lost all control of his feelings, and he needs to know that Puck’s in just as deep as he is.
The problem is that he can’t think of a way to say all of that without humiliating himself, and the longer the silence stretches out, the more positive Kurt is that Puck’s going to turn around and walk out right now. Then it won’t matter what decision Kurt makes about his wings, because Puck will be gone either way.
“Puck…”
His voice breaks on the single word, and he claps a hand over his mouth and holds back a sob. He doesn’t even know why, but once it starts he can’t stop it, and he reaches up to wipe angrily at his eyes.
“Are you crying?”
“I’m fine,” Kurt lies, because Puck still hasn’t answered him, and there’s no way Kurt’s going to admit how much this means to him until he knows where he stands.
“The hell you are,” Puck says, and when Kurt hears the tightness in his voice he remembers that Puck can feel it when he’s upset. And that’s just great, because Kurt can’t even die of humiliation in private anymore.
He waits for Puck to freak out, to make up some excuse and make his escape before Kurt really falls apart. Instead Puck moves forward, then his hands are on Kurt’s shoulders and he’s tugging, pressing Kurt against his still-wet chest and wrapping strong arms around him.
“I told you already, this is real. I’m not going anywhere.”
“But…”
“No,” Puck says, pushing the word out through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to bail, babe. So unless you tell me to get out, I’m staying.”
Kurt feels his breath hitch, so he presses his forehead against Puck’s shoulder until he regains enough control to talk without losing it again. It takes longer than he’d like, but Puck’s hands are moving on him the whole time, stroking slowly through his feathers until they stop fluttering frantically and settle down.
“I want you to stay,” he finally answers, then he takes one last deep breath and looks up.
“Good,” Puck says, voice low and rough and sending a shiver straight down Kurt’s spine. Then Puck leans in and kisses him, wet and dirty and by the time he lets Kurt up for air they’re both panting.
Puck’s hands are still buried in his wings, fingers pushing the feathers apart and stroking through the soft down. Kurt feels it in his whole body, every nerve ending on fire and all he wants to do is push forward and press himself against Puck from his mouth to his knees. He knows for a fact Puck wouldn’t mind, but when he tries to move Puck’s grip on his wings tightens to hold him in place.
“Please don’t let them do anything to your wings,” Puck says, voice wrecked and desperate, and Kurt’s heart aches at the sound. “I’ll do whatever you want, I don’t care, just don’t let anybody else touch them, okay?”
Before he even finishes Kurt’s nodding, pressing forward to brush kisses against Puck’s lips and his cheek. He hears the shaky breath Puck takes in, but instead of pulling back and asking if he’s okay, Kurt just kisses him again.
“I won’t,” he whispers, and “I promise,” and he doesn’t doubt for a second that he means it.
Part Five
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Puck (Kurt/Blaine)
Rating: NC17
Word count: ~60,000 overall; ~9,500 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.
A/N: Fine, six chapters. I hate everything.
Kurt doesn’t think about the specialist his dad mentioned again until the next day. They’re side by side on the couch, arms and hips and thighs touching, watching an episode of True Life that Kurt’s already seen at least once. It’s the one about the women who regret their plastic surgery, and Kurt’s aware of the irony, but as soon as they show one of the girls in a doctor’s office, he remembers what his dad said about the specialist.
His wings flutter nervously against the couch cushions, and Kurt frowns and shifts his weight until they’re not trapped against his back. As soon as he moves Puck’s hand is on him, sliding up his spine to rest at the spot where feathers meet skin.
“What’s the problem?”
It’s not the first time Kurt’s been annoyed that his wings have a tendency to give away how he’s feeling. He’s not sure if anyone else can tell, but Puck can, and that’s bad enough. That’s one problem going through with the surgery would solve; if he didn’t have any wings to betray him, it would be a lot easier to have some modicum of control over his emotions.
“The doctor called to talk to my dad,” Kurt answers, not quite looking at Puck as he says it. “There’s a specialist in Seattle who thinks he might be able to remove my wings.”
“You mean, like…no,” Puck says, his hand sliding into the feathers at the base of Kurt’s wing as he speaks, as though he can keep them there just by holding on. “No way, Kurt. There’s no telling what that would do to you.”
He has a point; Kurt thought the same thing himself yesterday, after his father brought it up. After his father sort of indicated that he thought it was a good idea, and Kurt can’t help wondering how much of that has to do with his sudden connection to Puck.
“My dad thinks I should go see him. Just to see what he has to say.”
“What else is there to say? He wants to cut off your wings, Kurt,” Puck says, and he sounds so distressed about it that Kurt wishes he hadn’t brought it up. But Puck has a right to know that it’s an option, and Kurt really needs someone to talk to about it.
Puck’s fingers are stroking his right wing, carefully pushing through the feathers without bending them, as though he’s been doing it all his life. He’s good at it - better than Kurt, because at least he can reach all of them - and Kurt finds himself leaning into the touch. It feels fantastic, but it’s distracting, too, and he has to struggle to remember what they were talking about.
“But what if it affected the connection somehow? Maybe if the wings were gone…”
As soon as he says it Puck pulls his hand away, backing up on the couch until they’re not touching at all. Kurt's wings spread hopefully, but he doesn't let himself reach out for Puck, because they have to talk about this sooner or later.
"I already told you, I don't want it to stop."
"I know what you said," Kurt answers, his voice catching on the words, and this shouldn't be so hard, because it's just Puck. Kurt's not in love with him or anything, but the thought of giving him up makes his chest ache all the same. "But what if it's not real? What if it's just because of the wings? There's no telling how long all this will last, Puck. You can't blame me for wanting to know the truth."
"It's real," Puck says, voice fierce in a way Kurt hasn't heard for a long time. "You feel it just as much as I do. Just because you don't want it to be true doesn't mean it's just going to go away."
"I didn't say that." Kurt pauses, cheeks flushing at the look Puck gives him, because okay, he is kind of saying that. But the truth is he doesn't know what he wants, and until he's sure Puck really wants this and he's not just the victim of some weird wing-induced hysteria, Kurt can't let himself trust it. "I never said I don't want...us. I just want to cover all the bases."
He can tell Puck doesn't believe him, but it's the best that Kurt can offer, at least for now. Maybe Puck can just throw himself into a relationship without a second thought about consequences, but Kurt's never been that reckless. Sure, he went after Blaine, but only after carefully weighing the situation from all sides and deciding that he and Blaine were perfect for one another. There's nothing about him and Puck that makes sense, but that doesn't stop the pull Kurt feels in his gut every time Puck's anywhere near him, and that's the part Kurt can't trust.
Then again, if it's just lust, he should have gotten it out of his system already. But they’ve had sex more than once now, and the fact remains that Kurt still wants more. He inches a little closer on the couch before he realizes he's moving, reaching out and resting a hand on Puck's thigh.
"Please, Puck. You know I can't do this without you."
"I'm not going to fucking Seattle," Puck says, as though the city's personally offended him somehow. He probably wouldn't even know where Seattle is if it wasn't for Nirvana, but Kurt doesn't say so. Instead he inches closer still, and when his wing stretches out to stroke along Puck's shoulder, Puck reaches up to run his fingers along the tip. "How would we even get there? It's not like you can get on a plane and just hope nobody bumps into you the entire way across the country."
It's a valid question, one Kurt hasn't even considered, because he's been too busy trying not to think about this so-called specialist to worry about the logistics of traveling. "I don't know."
Puck lets out a frustrated breath, but he's stroking along the ridge of Kurt's wing now, and Kurt wants to crawl over him and hold him down so he can't let go again. He settles for inching even closer, facing Puck and drawing his other wing over his shoulder so Puck can run his hands along both ridges at once.
"Look, even if they could get rid of the wings," Puck says, his grip tightening for a second before he catches himself and eases up again, "it might not change anything. It's not like other people could touch you all of a sudden, right? So what's the difference?"
"That's the thing. There's no way of knowing unless we try."
"And if it works and this thing between us goes away?"
"Then I guess we'll know it wasn't real after all," Kurt answers, but just saying the words makes his chest ache, and he doesn't even try to keep the misery out of his voice.
Puck lets out a growl and lets go of Kurt's wings, then he grips Kurt's hips and yanks him forward to press their lips together. The kiss is hard and desperate and Kurt whimpers against his mouth and holds on, gripping Puck's shoulders too hard and trying to pull him even closer. Puck takes the hint and leans back on the couch, lets Kurt straddle his hips and push him back against the cushions and keep kissing him like it's his job. Like it's his only reason for living, and right now it feels like that's true.
"It's real," Puck murmurs against his mouth, hand in Kurt's hair and yanking hard enough to look in Kurt's eyes. His eyes are dark and determined, and Kurt's heart picks up speed at the sound of his voice. "It's real."
Kurt nods, because he's still not sure he believes it, but he knows Puck does. He slides his arms around Puck's shoulders to kiss him again, and they can't do this here, because his family will be back eventually, and he's pretty sure none of them would appreciate walking in on Kurt letting Puck fuck him on the living room couch.
He's never done that before -- never considered it, not even with Blaine -- and until he thinks it for the first time he has no idea it's even on the table. But Puck's hard and thrusting up against him, and when Kurt angles his ass to press down against Puck's lap, Puck lets out a wrecked moan that goes straight to Kurt's cock.
Puck's hands slide up his back, gripping the joints of his wings and digging his thumbs into the tender skin there, making Kurt gasp and press down harder against him. He rocks forward, seeking some friction - anything to relieve the pressure already building in his groin - and he knows he's going to come in his pants, but he doesn't really care. All he cares about is the way Puck's kissing him, like he can't get enough, like he'll never get enough no matter how many times they do this.
"Puck," Kurt whispers against his mouth, and he's pretty sure Puck can't hear him, but he says it again anyway. "Puck, I want..."
It's not really a surprise when the garage door opens, but when Kurt hears his dad and Finn's voices in the kitchen he scrambles off Puck's lap and then off the couch. For a second Puck just blinks up at him, looking confused and sort of lost, and Kurt's heart clenches hard as he holds out a hand for Puck to take.
Finally Puck gets with the program and lets Kurt pull him to his feet and toward the stairs, tripping over their own footsteps in their hurry to get to Kurt's room before Finn or his dad walk in and see them. One look and they'd both know exactly what Kurt and Puck were doing before they came in, and Kurt's not ready to deal with that yet. Not until he figures out what they'd be walking in on, exactly; if it's just sex that's one thing, but it hasn't felt like 'just’ anything since the start.
When they get to his room Puck kicks the door shut and reaches out to catch Kurt around the waist, pulling him close, and Kurt expects another bruising kiss. Instead Puck just looks for a second, dark eyes searching Kurt's face for the answer to some question he hasn't asked.
"Tell me you don't want me."
"Of course I want you," Kurt says, cheeks flushing, because he assumed that much, at least, was obvious. "That's not the problem."
"We want each other," Puck answers, hands moving in distracting little circles on Kurt's back, and that's so not playing fair. "I don’t see a problem."
Kurt rolls his eyes, because honestly, at this point he's fairly sure Puck's being deliberately obtuse. "We can't stay locked up in my bedroom forever."
"Doesn't sound like such a bad plan to me," Puck says, leaning in to open his mouth against the side of Kurt's neck. Kurt lets out a breathy sigh, but he tightens his hands on Puck's shoulders and does his best to push him to a safe distance. Considering Puck's built of solid muscle, he doesn't succeed in much more than making Puck laugh, but he eases his grip on Kurt enough to kiss his way up his jaw instead.
"As appealing as that sounds right now, eventually we're going to get tired of these four walls. Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life in hiding? I had plans, you know."
"Plans change," Puck answers, his voice low and rough and sending a thrill of want down Kurt's spine. He presses closer to the warmth of Puck's chest, and when Puck's mouth lands on his neck again, Kurt tilts his head to give him better access.
"What about your plan to enlist?"
Puck's mouth stills on his skin, but he doesn't straighten up right away. Kurt feels Puck inhale against his neck, fingers flexing against his back before he pulls back to look at Kurt. "Like I said, plans change."
Reliefs floods Kurt as soon as he says it, and he knows it must show on his face, because Puck smiles and reaches up to run a thumb along his bottom lip. "What, you thought I was going to ditch you to go off and play soldier with Finn?"
"As far as I knew it was still on the table," Kurt answers. And he knows what changed Puck's mind, knows that it's this weird pull between them that might not even be real. Except it feels real, and no matter how hard Kurt denies it, it doesn't seem to be going anywhere.
"Finn's going to have plenty of guys to watch his back. He doesn't need me," Puck says, doesn't add, like you do, but Kurt hears it anyway. He doesn't bother denying it, because they both know it's true. They need each other, for whatever reason, whether it's because of Kurt's wings or something else entirely.
He leans in to kiss Puck again, lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, and Puck makes a noise in the back of his throat and turns into him. Puck kisses him slow, hands sliding up and down his back like he's trying to memorize Kurt. His fingers brush Kurt's wings, stroking along the feathers and sending little shivers of pleasure to coil in Kurt's belly. It's nothing like their kiss in the living room; that was all heat and desperate urgency, but somehow this is even better, because it feels almost like a promise of things to come.
His father's right downstairs, Finn too, but all Kurt can think about is getting Puck as close as possible. He wants to crawl inside him, pull him close and never, ever let go. It hits him with a force he doesn't expect, making his knees wobble and then Puck's arms are tightening around him and moving him backwards toward the bed. And that's a great idea, but Kurt has an even better one, so he leans in to press a soft kiss to Puck's lips, then he shoves until Puck sits down hard on the edge of the mattress.
"Wait right here," he says, pulling away before Puck can ask what he thinks he's doing. And he's not really prepared for this, but if he gives himself time to think he'll talk himself out of it, so he focuses on the memory of Puck's hands on him and reaches into a drawer for one of the condoms his father handed over during the second most embarrassing sex talk of his life.
He hadn't gone so far as to buy lube, which is probably for the best, since Kurt probably would have died of humiliation, which means he wouldn't have needed the condoms in the first place. But they're going to need something, so Kurt hesitates with his hand over a jar before he blushes and picks it up.
Supplies in hand, he crosses back to the bed to find Puck still sitting exactly where Kurt left him, shirt gone but his pants still on, and Kurt rolls his eyes and drops the jar and the condom on the mattress. Puck glances down at them for a second, then he looks up at Kurt, and if there was any chance of Kurt changing his mind, it's gone as soon as Puck looks at him.
"Yeah?"
Kurt nods, blushing as he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down his thighs, leaving him standing in front of Puck in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. Puck swallows hard and stands up, unbuttoning his own jeans and kicking off shoes and socks before he shoves his jeans down to join the rest of his clothes on the floor.
The quick break in action hasn't done anything to diminish his erection, and when Kurt remembers just how big it is his heart picks up speed for a whole new reason. Because there's no way he's actually going to get that thing inside of him, no matter how much part of him wants to try.
And he must look like he's thinking about hyperventilating, like that's not completely humiliating, because suddenly Puck's in front of him, hands on his shoulders and pulling him forward to press soft kisses to his cheeks and his eyes and his mouth. "Relax, babe. I'm gonna take good care of you."
It's such a cheesy thing to say that Kurt can't help laughing, but instead of asking Puck just how much porn he's watched during his high school career, he just nods and lets Puck hook his thumbs into Kurt's boxer briefs and slide them down his thighs. Kurt steps out of them and lets Puck pull him back toward the bed, then he lets Puck sit down and move back on the mattress until Kurt has enough room to straddle his thighs again.
He sort of expects Puck to jump right to the action; they got a decent head start downstairs, after all, but he doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. His hands run up and down Kurt’s back slowly, as though they’ve got all the time in the world, pupils blown wide with lust and something else as he looks back at Kurt.
It’s the something else that makes Kurt’s heart stutter, and when Puck says his name Kurt presses forward to kiss him hard. He’s only vaguely aware that they’re moving, but the next time he comes up for air Puck’s back is pressed against his headboard and his hands are on Kurt’s hips to rock them together.
Kurt bites down on a moan, trying to stay quiet because it’s the middle of the day and his dad and Finn are right downstairs. That’s a good enough reason to stop, to pull away and tell Puck this is a bad idea and they can pick things up later, once everyone’s asleep. Except this feels important somehow, as though it’s more than just Kurt wanting to be as close to Puck as possible.
He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but he’s not willing to give it up. Just the thought makes his stomach drop as though he’s on a rollercoaster, and when Puck’s hand leaves his hip to curve around his ass, Kurt lets out a sharp, surprised breath and blushes hard.
Puck’s low chuckle rumbles against his neck, vibrating in his chest and making Kurt blush even harder. And he should have known that Puck would have some experience with this, regardless of the fact that Kurt’s almost positive he’s the first man Puck’s been with. His hands are sure, at any rate, fingers pushing Kurt’s cheeks apart and his thumb sliding across Kurt’s opening and making him shudder.
He registers Puck’s whispered shh and thinks about being offended, but Puck’s sucking on his neck now, and the sensation drives every other thought out of Kurt’s brain. His world narrows down to the rough drag of Puck’s thumb teasing his entrance and the hot, wet suction on Kurt’s skin, and when Puck’s thumb disappears Kurt has to bite his lip to hold back a disappointed whine.
Puck feels around for the jar of cream he’s actually managed to drag up the bed with them, glancing down at it for a second before he looks up at Kurt again. “What is this stuff?”
“Very expensive eye cream,” Kurt says, and he’d thought he was already at maximum blush capacity, but somehow his skin gets even hotter. “It’s the best I can do on short notice.”
“Works for me,” Puck says, then his twists the lid off the jar and digs a finger in. Kurt spares a moment of regret for the amount of money they’re about to waste, then Puck’s finger is circling his opening, and he decides it’s worth it. His head drops forward, eyes closed and focusing on the tease of Puck’s finger circling him - circling but not pushing inside - and Kurt makes an impatient noise and pushes back into his touch.
The tip of Puck’s finger slides inside him and Kurt freezes, because that’s exactly what he was aiming for, but he didn’t really expect it until it actually happened. It feels…a little weird, certainly, but not painful at all, and he takes a breath and forces his eyes open to look at Puck.
Puck who’s looking right back at him, eyes almost black now and his expression an odd mixture of lust and surprise. Like maybe he didn’t really expect Kurt to go through with it, and now that he knows Kurt’s serious, he’s not so sure of himself.
Then their eyes meet and Puck lets out a sound that doesn’t even sound human, his finger sliding a little deeper as he presses forward to kiss Kurt again. Kisses him and kisses him, tongue sliding past his teeth and breathing hard against his mouth and his finger pushing in and out of Kurt, agonizingly slow, keeping time with his tongue where it’s fucking Kurt’s mouth.
Kurt’s aware that he’s breathing hard, panting through his nose and his fingers digging into Puck’s shoulders to pull him closer, probably leaving marks, but Puck doesn’t seem to mind. The hand that’s not busy working Kurt open slides up his back, gripping the joint of Kurt’s left wing and dragging a moan out of Kurt.
His fingers push through the soft, downy feathers along the wing joint until Kurt’s rocking back against Puck, pushing for more until Puck’s finger is buried as deep inside him as it can get. He thinks about how they must look, wishes for a moment that he could see, then blushes all over again.
Puck’s finger slides out of him and Kurt moans at the loss, then he fumbles for the jar of cream again and Kurt writes the entire thing off as a loss. Worth it, he thinks and starts to laugh, but the sound shifts to a moan when Puck slides two fingers inside him.
He’s still taking his time, letting Kurt set the pace, and Kurt can’t decide if it’s uncharacteristically sweet or if Puck just can’t stand to cause Kurt any pain when he knows he’ll be able to feel it too. Then again, Kurt’s not sure if their connection works that way. He knows Puck can feel it when someone else touches him, and he knows Puck can feel it when he’s upset, but they haven’t really tested the limits of their connection yet.
Kurt considers asking, but then Puck angles his wrist a little and hits a spot inside Kurt that makes his whole body shudder, and he forgets what he was thinking about.
“Oh,” Kurt hears himself breathe, as though it’s taken him by surprise, and when Puck laughs again it’s filled with so much affection that Kurt can’t bring himself to mind.
He knows what a prostate is, obviously, and apparently Puck does too, because he hits it again, rubbing deliberately this time, and Kurt moans and drops his head onto Puck’s shoulder. “Puck…”
His voice is broken and desperate and he can’t manage more than Puck’s name, but somehow he gets it. He’s pulling his fingers free, at any rate, letting go of Kurt’s wings too, then he’s reaching for the condom and tearing the package open. He swears at it for a second when it resists his slick fingers, and Kurt laughs against his shoulder and reaches for Puck’s hand.
He pulls the condom out of Puck’s grip and opens it with shaking fingers, then he sits back on his heels and reaches for Puck’s cock. Puck groans and thrusts up once, then he stills his hips with an effort to let Kurt roll the condom down. Maybe it’s a mistake, because as soon as he touches Puck he remembers exactly how much bigger his dick is than his fingers, and Kurt swallows at the thought of opening enough to take Puck inside him.
Fingers are one thing; the strange sense of fullness is almost enjoyable after a while, but even with just two fingers he could feel his tight ring of muscle stretching nearly to its limit. This is…this is probably crazy, but when Puck looks up at him and raises an eyebrow, Kurt just nods and reaches for the jar of cream to slick up Puck’s cock.
“It’ll be easier if you bend over,” Puck says, like he’s an expert all of a sudden, and when Kurt remembers that he probably is, he flushes and nods. Before he can climb off Puck’s lap a hand lands on his hip to hold him still, then Puck’s leaning up and kissing him hard.
He hooks an arm around Kurt’s waist and pulls him flush against Puck’s chest, fingers grazing his feathers and making Kurt hum against his mouth and squirm in his lap. For a second he thinks maybe Puck’s changed his mind, that he wants to do it just like this, and Kurt wouldn’t mind. But the next thing he knows they’re moving, Puck’s hands on him to push him backwards and then onto his knees to brace his elbows on the mattress.
Kurt has a second to feel self-conscious about being on display like this before Puck’s hand slides down his back, knees easing Kurt’s legs a little further apart and his hand landing on Kurt’s ass to pull him open.
“Damn, that’s hot,” Puck says, and Kurt’s blushing again, but his wings are spread and fluttering, and when a hand strokes down his feathers Kurt thinks that might be what Puck’s talking about.
Puck’s fingers dig in, following the line of Kurt’s wing until Kurt’s making a noise that sounds a little like a purr and pushing back against him. When he feels Puck’s cock slide against his ass he tenses, but Puck’s hand keeps stroking through his feathers and he’s making soft noises in his throat, and before Kurt realizes what’s happening Puck’s pushing inside him.
The stretch is uncomfortable in a way that Puck’s fingers weren’t, and when his breath catches and his fingers curl around the sheets underneath him, Puck stops moving. Both his hands are on Kurt’s wings now, sliding along the ridges and pushing his thumbs into the soft down just under the bone.
Slowly Kurt starts to relax, muscles unclenching to let Puck in a little further. He bites down hard on his arm, fighting to keep quiet so his dad doesn’t come up to investigate and walk in on something he can’t unsee. But thinking about his dad right now definitely isn’t helping him relax, so Kurt focuses on the feeling of Puck’s hands stroking along his wings and his cock pushing slowly inside him.
He’s not sure how long it takes before Puck’s all the way in; moments, probably, but it feels as though time has stopped somehow. His thighs are shaking and he’s not sure how he’s holding himself up, but when Puck’s hands find the joints of his wings and press against the spot where they meet his back, Kurt groans and pushes back to meet him.
That’s all Puck needs to start moving, slow at first and then faster, rocking his hips in time with Kurt’s backwards thrusts. His hands are still buried in Kurt’s wings, pushing through his feathers carefully, and Kurt would admire his concentration if his brain hadn’t melted out his ear when Puck pushed inside him. As it is, all he can do is feel, rocking back against Puck, and it still hurts a little, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting more.
More and more, and when Puck leans forward and presses a kiss between Kurt’s shoulder blades, he moans and pushes back even harder. Puck’s arm slides around his waist for the second time, then Kurt’s being pulled backwards, his head falling back onto Puck’s shoulder and leaning hard against his chest.
His wings are spread wide to let Puck press close, mouth on the side of Kurt’s neck and his thrusts are more shallow now, but he’s hitting that spot over and over. Puck’s hand closes around Kurt’s dick, gripping hard and letting Kurt thrust up into his hand, rocking between Puck’s cock and his fist. It’s way too much, and when Kurt feels heat coiling tight in his stomach his wings curl around Puck’s shoulders without his permission.
He tries to coax them open, but before he manages Puck’s mouth leaves his neck to whisper in his ear. “It’s cool. I like them.”
Kurt parts his lips to answer, but all he manages is a soft sigh, his wings fluttering softly against Puck’s skin. He thinks he should be embarrassed, but Puck doesn’t seem to mind, and when Puck’s grip twists a little and his thumb slides across the head of Kurt’s cock, he clenches hard around Puck and comes.
Puck thrusts up one last time, hard, then he tenses against Kurt, his arm tightening around Kurt’s waist as he lets go too. He’s breathing hard against Kurt’s neck, still trapped in the circle of Kurt’s wings, and for a second Kurt wishes they could just stay like this. He knows as soon as Puck moves things will be weird again, that his brain will turn back on and he won’t be able to stop the worry from crowding in.
He’ll have to start thinking about doctors and his dad and why Puck’s doing all this in the first place, about what’s going to happen if he’s stuck with his wings forever, and what’s going to happen if he’s not. His wings droop a little at the thought, slipping from around Puck’s shoulders, and a second later Puck pulls out of him.
Kurt winces at the sensation, biting his lip to keep from making any noise as Puck presses one last kiss to the side of his neck and then climbs off the bed. Kurt collapses onto the mattress, stretching out on his stomach and closing his eyes as he listens to Puck moving around in the bathroom.
The mattress dips next to him before Kurt’s ready, then Puck’s hands are on him again, curving around his back and tracing the ridges of his wings. He doesn’t want to like it, doesn’t want to lean back into it, because he still doesn’t know what any of this means. But Puck’s hands are warm and familiar, and Kurt finds himself rolling onto his side to curve against Puck’s chest, and if he lets Puck hold him for a little while, it’s not really hurting anyone.
~
Kurt waits until Puck falls asleep, steady breath against his neck and the warm weight of Puck’s arm draped around his waist making it hard to wiggle out from under him without waking him. But Puck’s a fairly heavy sleeper, as it turns out, so Kurt manages to climb out of bed undetected, crossing to the bathroom to clean up a little before he pulls his clothes back on.
He’s moving a little slower than usual, and he’s just as glad that Puck’s asleep so he won’t witness the way Kurt winces every so often when he turns the wrong way. Then again, there’s a good chance he’ll be able to feel Kurt’s discomfort anyway, and the thought alone is enough to make Kurt blush all over again.
For a moment or two he stands at the end of the bed and just looks at Puck, naked and completely unself-conscious, and Kurt knows it wouldn’t be any different if he weren’t fast asleep. And he knows Puck wants to be here -- if nothing else, he believes at least that much -- but there’s still the lingering feeling in the back of Kurt’s mind that he should feel guilty about it.
There’s the way things worked out with Blaine, sure, and the amount of worry and stress he’s putting his dad through, when they all know he’s never going to be a hundred percent out of the woods when it comes to his heart. But worse even than both of those is the nagging worry that somehow he’s keeping Puck here against his will, that he’s got it in his head that he can’t leave, not as long as Kurt needs him.
He doesn’t want to be someone’s charity project. He doesn’t want Puck sticking around out of some misplaced sense of obligation, no matter how much it would hurt Kurt if he did leave. And it would hurt, both physically and emotionally, which is the part Kurt’s having the hardest time with.
He didn’t expect to have feelings for Puck, especially considering their history. Then again, he never would have predicted that Puck would be attracted to him in any way, yet there he is, spread out in Kurt’s bed like he belongs there. The thought makes Kurt’s heart flutter in time with his wings, and he feels them trying to propel him forward, back into bed to curl around Puck and breathe in as much of him as he can.
Kurt turns away before he gives in to the urge, pulling his bedroom door open and then closing it behind him, leaving Puck alone to drool on his pillow and dream about football or sex or being a rock star. His wings flutter again, disgruntled at not getting their way, and Kurt rolls his eyes and ignores them as he makes his way downstairs.
He finds his dad in the living room, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other, and Kurt watches him flip through channels until he lands on an old episode of Deadliest Catch. Kurt laughs under his breath and crosses to the couch, curling into the corner and smiling when his dad looks up at him.
“Someday you’re going to announce that you’re retiring to spend the rest of your days fishing in Alaska, aren’t you?”
His dad laughs and sets his beer down, then he turns down the volume and looks over at Kurt. “I don’t think I’m really cut out for that job. I have thought about taking Carole up there, though. They have these cruises on the Bering Sea, and after you can ride a train across Canada. She’d probably like that.”
Kurt smiles at the thought of his dad and Carole becoming one of those couples that go on cruises, raiding the midnight buffets and playing tourist in every port and sending back postcards with palm trees on them to let Kurt know how much fun they’re having. Because of course he’ll still be here, stuck in the house like Mrs. Rochester, the secret everyone knows about but no one discusses.
“Where’s Puckerman?” his dad asks, gaze carefully trained on the screen again as one of the crews pulls a mostly empty crab pot aboard.
“Sleeping,” Kurt answers, and it doesn’t have to mean anything, but he blushes anyway.
His dad nods and reaches for his beer again, and Kurt tells himself it doesn’t mean anything. There’s no reason for his dad to know what they were doing before Puck fell asleep; Kurt’s fairly sure they managed to be quiet, at any rate, and besides, his dad’s the one who assumed there was something going on between them and let Puck move in anyway.
“You thought any more about what the doctor said?” his dad asks, looking away from the TV long enough to watch Kurt shrug.
“A little. Puck thinks it’s a bad idea.”
His dad raises his eyebrows at that, but he doesn’t comment. Instead he sets his beer back on the table and turns back to the TV. “What do you think?”
“I understand why he doesn’t want me to do it,” Kurt answers, though he knows that’s not what his father meant. His wings flutter behind him, making it clear that they’re on Puck’s side, and Kurt swallows a frustrated sigh and leans back against the couch cushions to trap them in place.
“Listen, son, I appreciate what Puckerman’s doing for you and all, but it’s not his decision. If you want to go hear what this doctor has to say...”
“How would we even get to Seattle?” Kurt interrupts, Puck’s words echoing in his head. “It’s not as though I can fly commercial.”
“Being a Senator comes with some perks. If you want to see this guy, we’ll get you there.”
“Our taxpayer dollars at work?” Kurt says, smiling when his dad laughs. “It’s not that I want to be stuck with wings forever. But even if this doctor can remove them, we have no idea what will happen. What if it makes things even worse?”
What if they take them off and even Puck can’t touch me anymore? he doesn’t say. What if he doesn’t want to?
He’s fairly sure his father hasn’t developed the ability to read his mind, but he frowns as though he knows what Kurt’s thinking all the same. Maybe it’s just because he’s known Kurt his whole life, or maybe Kurt’s just gotten really bad at hiding his feelings since he sprouted a pair of wings, but somehow he can tell his father knows he’s thinking about Puck. Somehow he knows this all boils down to the two of them, and there’s no way Kurt can make a decision without him, no matter what his dad says.
“You’re going to have to be the one to decide if that’s a risk you’re willing to take,” his dad says, then he sighs and turns back to the TV. “It’s your life, son.”
Kurt’s pretty sure that what his dad means is that it might be his only chance to have a life. He might even be right, and there’s a huge part of Kurt that wants to take it. But taking the chance that this might give him his life back means taking another, even bigger chance that he’ll lose what he’s already got, and he’s not sure it’s worth the trade-off.
~
When Puck wakes up, Kurt doesn’t mention the conversation with his dad. He doesn’t want to start another argument, and anyway they’ve both already said everything there is to say. Puck likes his wings; whether it’s because he’s the only one who can touch them, or if he’s developed a fetish, Kurt isn’t sure, but whatever the reason, Puck wants them to stay. He’s made that much perfectly clear, so Kurt doesn’t see the need to point out that his father’s already worked out a plan to get them to Seattle the minute Kurt says the word.
If Kurt’s quieter than usual at dinner no one seems to notice; he hasn’t had much to say recently anyway, considering he never leaves the house unless it’s to go see a doctor. Besides, the closer they get to the day Finn leaves for basic training, the quieter everyone’s gotten, and Kurt knows his dad and Carole have more to worry about than just his strange predicament. They’re supposed to be moving to D.C. in the fall, and no one’s brought it up since graduation day, but Kurt has a feeling those plans are on hold, at least until he figures out what he’s going to do.
After dinner Finn and Puck commandeer the living room television for some kind of video game marathon, and Kurt sticks around to watch for awhile, trying to pretend everything’s normal. But there’s only so much of watching the two of them blow things up that he can stand, and finally he excuses himself and goes to bed early.
He’s not sure what time it is when Puck finally follows him upstairs, but he’s still awake with the bedroom door opens, and when Puck shuts off the bathroom light and slides under the covers, Kurt turns onto his side and presses his cheek to the warmth of Puck’s bare chest. Puck’s arms slide around him, heavy against his waist and brushing the bottom of Kurt’s wings. He feels Puck’s lips brush the top of his head, and Kurt has to squeeze his eyes shut and wait for his heart to stop racing.
“If you stay,” Kurt says, grateful for the darkness, because he’s positive he wouldn’t be brave enough to say this in the daylight, “If you stay, and if I don’t go to Seattle, what happens then?”
Puck’s arms tighten around his waist as though maybe he’s expecting Kurt to try to pull away. As though he can keep Kurt with him if he just holds on hard enough, and Kurt swallows hard and turns his face a little further into Puck’s neck while he waits for an answer.
“Guess we can’t stay here forever. Your dad’s been pretty cool about letting me crash here so far, but even he’s probably got his limits. And there’s no way my mom’s letting us move in, unless you can get knocked up now too.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Kurt mumbles against his skin, feels Puck’s answering laugh vibrate in his chest.
“So I guess that means we’re going to have to think about getting our own place eventually. I’ve pretty much blown most of the pool cleaning season already, but it’s not like it ever brought in all that much money anyway.”
“You want to…move in together.”
“I figure we’re already kind of living together, right?” Puck says, but he doesn’t sound quite as sure as he was a few seconds ago.
And the thing is, Kurt doesn’t hate the idea. He knows he should; it’s way too soon, and they don’t know anything about how long this thing between them will last. But Kurt once promised Blaine they’d last forever, and that hadn’t worked out so well, so maybe his chances with Puck aren’t any worse than anybody else’s.
Besides, Puck’s right that they can’t stay here forever; he knows his dad won’t ask him to leave, but it’s impossible to say how long he’ll put up with Puck hanging around and sharing Kurt’s bed. He knows his dad didn’t love the idea to begin with, and if he refuses to see this specialist because Puck doesn’t want him to, that’s probably going to get worse.
That doesn’t mean that moving in together is the answer, especially when Kurt has no idea what he’s going to do with the rest of his life, and Puck doesn’t have much more direction than he does. He can’t expect Puck to support him, to pay all the bills while Kurt stays hidden away in some cheap apartment like a 1950s housewife. Technically they’re not even dating, and Kurt wants to laugh at the thought, because it’s so absurd, but instead he bites his lip and leans a little further into Puck.
“My dad won’t kick us out. Not right away, at least.”
“Yeah?” Puck says, his hand moving on Kurt’s back now to drag him a little closer. “Guess that gives us some time to make a new plan.”
Kurt nods and closes his eyes to listen to Puck’s heart beat through his chest. “I suppose it does.”
He wonders how much thought Puck’s put into all of this -- it sounds as though he’s been thinking it through, at any rate -- but he doesn’t ask. Instead he focuses on the feeling of Puck’s fingers pushing through his feathers, slow and deliberate, taking pains not to bend them in the wrong direction. Kurt shivers against him and buries his face in Puck’s neck, mouth open against his pulse point and scraping his teeth along Puck’s skin.
The grip on his feathers tightens for a second before Puck forces his fingers to relax, and Kurt hears the way his breathing changes. He mouths his way up Puck’s neck and along his jaw, one hand braced against the center of Puck’s chest as Puck turns into him and presses their lips together.
Instantly he’s overwhelmed with the need to be as close to Puck as possible, some magnetic force pulling them together and making him push for more. And Puck lets him, lets Kurt push him back against the mattress and slide a knee between Puck’s thighs, arms around Kurt’s waist and rocking them together while they kiss.
Puck’s hands are everywhere, sliding along his wings and his skin, down to his ass and making Kurt hiss against his mouth. Pulling Kurt closer and closer, as though he’s just as desperate for contact as Kurt is, and no matter how hard Puck kisses him or how tight he holds on, it’s not enough.
“Kurt,” Puck murmurs, over and over against his mouth, and every time he hears it Kurt’s wings stretch and flutter behind him.
He’s not sure which of them comes first. He doesn’t remember making the decision to close his hand around Puck’s cock, doesn’t know how long they rock together, Puck’s hand keeping rhythm with Kurt’s own, until they’re not kissing so much as sharing air, foreheads pressed together and wet heat coating hands and stomachs.
Puck catches his breath first, leaning up to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the side of Kurt’s neck. He kisses Kurt’s jaw, then his lips, and when Kurt opens his mouth Puck takes the invitation gladly. He lets Puck ease him back onto the mattress, wings folded tight against his back and his arms around Puck’s neck to pull him close, never breaking the kiss as Puck stretches out on top of him.
He knows if they don’t stop long enough to clean up they’re going to stick together, but he can’t bring himself to care when Puck’s still kissing him like he needs this to breathe. Like he needs Kurt just as much as Kurt needs him, and it’s a crazy thought, but that’s exactly how it feels, and Kurt desperately wants to believe it.
~
They don’t wake up stuck together, exactly, but there’s dried come on Kurt’s stomach, flaking and itchy and he makes a face and rolls away from Puck to frown down at it. His pajamas are long gone, though he has no memory of taking them off, and his head’s a little fuzzy, as though he’s been drinking.
Kurt sits up on the mattress, pulling out of Puck’s grip completely and stretching his wings behind him, but there’s a weird pull in some of the feathers on the right side, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t reach the spot that’s giving him trouble.
He’s still trying when Puck wakes up, blinking and sitting up to lean in and brush his lips against Kurt’s neck. “Babe, what are you doing?”
“There’s something wrong with my wing,” he says, frowning and twisting a little harder to try to see the damage. “It feels like some of the feathers are...stuck.”
He’s still got a grip on the tip of his right wing, holding it in place as he tries in vain to turn far enough to see the problem. When Puck’s hands push his away Kurt lets out a frustrated breath, but Puck can certainly reach better than he can, so Kurt surrenders to his touch. His fingers push through Kurt’s feathers carefully, but when they reach the spot in question and try to separate his feathers, Kurt feels a dull tug.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry,” Puck says, fingers moving more gently this time, but after a few seconds he stops and clears his throat. “Uh.”
“What?” Kurt asks, panic rising in his throat, because honestly, it’s bad enough he has wings without them mutating on him or something. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, relax. It’s just...I think maybe I touched your wing last night, after you came on my hand. Your feathers are kind of...stuck together.”
Kurt feels his whole face flush, and when Puck snickers behind him Kurt elbows him in the stomach. “It’s not funny.”
“Come on, babe, it’s kind of funny,” Puck says, rubbing his stomach, but his abs are made out of Teflon, so Kurt’s pretty sure he didn’t even feel it.
“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to wash these stupid things?” Kurt asks, pulling out of Puck’s grip and climbing off the bed. His feather flutter behind him, but it feels weird when some of them can’t move, and he rolls his eyes and heads for the bathroom.
Puck catches up with him just as he turns the shower on, arms sliding around his waist and pressing what Kurt assumes are apologetic kisses to the back of his neck. They feel nice, at any rate, and Kurt sighs and lets Puck steer him under the water.
“How do you wash them, anyway?” Puck asks, hands on Kurt’s back and letting the spray hit his wings.
“I’ve tried a few different things, but it’s been hard to reach them. They mostly seem to take care of themselves, but I can’t really tell if I’m keeping up with them.”
Kurt twists his head and tries to watch as Puck runs his hands over the damp feathers, fingers spreading them gently as he gets close to spot where they’re stuck together with Kurt’s come, apparently. He makes a face and turns away again, head down and eyes falling closed to focus on the way Puck’s touching him.
“So are you supposed to use soap or what?”
Kurt blushes, and he’s glad he’s not facing Puck now, because he can’t face Puck when he admits that he’s actually researched this. “Apparently you’re only supposed to use fresh water. That’s how people bathe their parrots, anyway.”
“What’d you do, buy a book or something?”
He hears Puck’s soft snort of laughter, but his fingers are moving carefully through Kurt’s feathers, working them apart until Kurt can’t feel them pulling at all anymore.
“Of course not. I googled it,” Kurt says, stretching his wings experimentally. They feel a lot better, so he doesn’t complain when Puck leans forward to rest his forehead against Kurt’s shoulder. That is, until he feels Puck shaking, and Kurt scowls and shrugs him off. “I’m glad you find this so amusing. There’s no precedent for this, what was I supposed to do? You try living with a pair of wings and see if you do any better.”
“No way, babe,” Puck answers, hands back on the ridges of Kurt’s wings to stroke along his feathers. “I don’t know anybody else who could pull off this look.”
Kurt’s feathers bristle under Puck’s touch and he feels himself tense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Puck sighs against his neck as he pulls Kurt a little closer, hands leaving his wings to rest on his hips. “It means you’re the only person I know who’s badass enough to pull off wings. You rock this look, babe. I wish everybody could see it.”
Kurt’s pretty sure Puck’s just sucking up now, but he can’t quite hold back a snort of laughter. And maybe there would have been a time when he could have made wings look amazing, but now that he doesn’t have a choice, it’s a little harder to see the humor in the situation. As it stands, he can only get away with this ‘look’ one day a year, and even on Halloween he’ll have to worry about people accidentally touching him.
Puck’s mouth is moving against his neck again, sucking slow kisses into his skin until Kurt’s breathless and leaning back into him. It’s not necessarily leading anywhere. It could; Kurt knows all he has to do is turn around and slide his arms around Puck’s neck and they could both forget about conversation for a while longer. Instead Kurt covers the hand that’s resting on his stomach, fingers sliding through Puck’s and holding on.
“What if I did go to Seattle?”
“What do you mean?” Puck asks, and Kurt feels the way he tenses.
“You know what I mean. You said if I didn’t go that we’d be...together. That if nothing changes you’ll stay. But what if the doctor could remove them? What if they were gone and everything else went back to normal?”
Puck lets out a heavy sigh against his neck, then he lets go, and Kurt has to force himself to turn around and face Puck. When he sees Puck’s expression he wants to take it back, but he needs to know, so instead he crosses his arms over his chest and waits.
“What, you think I’d bail? What the hell, Kurt?”
“I’m just asking,” Kurt says, but he can hear the edge in his voice, so he knows Puck can hear it too.
He reaches over to shut the water off, because the last thing they need is for his dad to come up to yell at him about wasting water and find them naked and having some kind of stand-off in the shower. Puck doesn’t even seem to notice; he’s too busy staring at Kurt like he can’t decide whether to walk away or just shake him really hard.
Personally, Kurt would prefer neither. What he wants is for Puck to tell him it wouldn’t make a difference, that he doesn’t understand why any more than Kurt does, but somehow the feelings that were foisted upon him by Kurt’s wings became real. Only Puck’s never been all that eloquent, so Kurt’s not surprised when all he comes up with is, “Seriously, what the fuck?”
Kurt heaves a sigh that probably sounds irritated, but the truth is he’s just tired of wondering. It hasn’t even been that long since this thing between them started, but already Kurt’s lost all control of his feelings, and he needs to know that Puck’s in just as deep as he is.
The problem is that he can’t think of a way to say all of that without humiliating himself, and the longer the silence stretches out, the more positive Kurt is that Puck’s going to turn around and walk out right now. Then it won’t matter what decision Kurt makes about his wings, because Puck will be gone either way.
“Puck…”
His voice breaks on the single word, and he claps a hand over his mouth and holds back a sob. He doesn’t even know why, but once it starts he can’t stop it, and he reaches up to wipe angrily at his eyes.
“Are you crying?”
“I’m fine,” Kurt lies, because Puck still hasn’t answered him, and there’s no way Kurt’s going to admit how much this means to him until he knows where he stands.
“The hell you are,” Puck says, and when Kurt hears the tightness in his voice he remembers that Puck can feel it when he’s upset. And that’s just great, because Kurt can’t even die of humiliation in private anymore.
He waits for Puck to freak out, to make up some excuse and make his escape before Kurt really falls apart. Instead Puck moves forward, then his hands are on Kurt’s shoulders and he’s tugging, pressing Kurt against his still-wet chest and wrapping strong arms around him.
“I told you already, this is real. I’m not going anywhere.”
“But…”
“No,” Puck says, pushing the word out through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to bail, babe. So unless you tell me to get out, I’m staying.”
Kurt feels his breath hitch, so he presses his forehead against Puck’s shoulder until he regains enough control to talk without losing it again. It takes longer than he’d like, but Puck’s hands are moving on him the whole time, stroking slowly through his feathers until they stop fluttering frantically and settle down.
“I want you to stay,” he finally answers, then he takes one last deep breath and looks up.
“Good,” Puck says, voice low and rough and sending a shiver straight down Kurt’s spine. Then Puck leans in and kisses him, wet and dirty and by the time he lets Kurt up for air they’re both panting.
Puck’s hands are still buried in his wings, fingers pushing the feathers apart and stroking through the soft down. Kurt feels it in his whole body, every nerve ending on fire and all he wants to do is push forward and press himself against Puck from his mouth to his knees. He knows for a fact Puck wouldn’t mind, but when he tries to move Puck’s grip on his wings tightens to hold him in place.
“Please don’t let them do anything to your wings,” Puck says, voice wrecked and desperate, and Kurt’s heart aches at the sound. “I’ll do whatever you want, I don’t care, just don’t let anybody else touch them, okay?”
Before he even finishes Kurt’s nodding, pressing forward to brush kisses against Puck’s lips and his cheek. He hears the shaky breath Puck takes in, but instead of pulling back and asking if he’s okay, Kurt just kisses him again.
“I won’t,” he whispers, and “I promise,” and he doesn’t doubt for a second that he means it.
Part Five