Fic: Gone and Done It (1/2)
Title: Gone and Done It
Author: kennagirl
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Word Count: 11792
Rating: R for the hormones and language of teenage boys
Summary:He just kinda accepts it as fact, loving Kurt, with no fanfare. However, getting Kurt will be a little harder than that.
Mix: by supergreak
Beta: flyingsoftly
Notes: I apologize for this being so late. I wish my life was free of drama, but alas, it is not.
"Hello, Hudmel clan!" Puck called as he let himself in the front door. He had long been used to doing that back when it was just Finn and Mrs. H, mostly because of Finn’s inability to remember to lock the front door. Finn was good at remembering most everything else, but it was like Puck remembering to put the lid back on the toothpaste: he could think about doing it at any other time except when he actually needed to. Since he and Finn had fixed their broken friendship over the championship game, he’d transferred his make-yourself-at-home attitude to the new house, with the addition of signaling his presence. Neither he nor Mr. H was looking forward to the potential of another meeting where one party had no pants on, so Puck heeded his request.
He followed the sound of a gunshot and lots of yelling to the living room, expecting to find Finn vegged out in front of a Law & Order rerun, but instead found Kurt curled up on the couch. “Hey, man,” he commented, looking around and seeing that he was the only one watching TV. “Finn around?”
Kurt rolled his eyes slightly before returning them to the screen. “He’s upstairs passed out between bouts of begging for chicken soup and claiming he’s dying. I think half the meds Carole is giving him are just to shut him up.”
Puck winced. “Right, the mono. If he’s half as bad with this as he was that time we both got the flu, I feel really bad for you. Mom and Mrs. H let me stay here so my sis wouldn’t get it and I considered smothering him with his pillow by the end of the first day.”
“I’ve considered it a few times already. But it’s date night for Dad and Carole, so I promised I’d keep half an eye on him so they could actually enjoy Valentine’s weekend.” His face soured and he burrowed a bit deeper into the couch. “That way someone in this house gets something from this ridiculous holiday.”
“Plans go bad?” Puck asked, not really expecting an answer as he dropped his backpack full of games on the floor and plopped down onto the couch. “Is that why you’re watching...” He finally paid a few moments of attention to the screen and recognized the movie instantly. “Boondock Saints? Really?”
“Yeah,” Kurt admitted. “Got fed up with romance being shoved down my throat, so I decided to turn to some blood and action for the night. Plus Sean Patrick Flanery is pretty hot.” He cut off abruptly, obviously remembering who he was sitting next to on the couch.
Puck was unfazed. “Yeah, he’s nice and all, but I prefer Norman Reedus. He’s got a good body, plus there’s just something about his eyes.” He half-expected Kurt to fight him on the point, and was admittedly surprised by the silence next to him. When he glanced over, he saw Kurt staring at him, utterly stunned. “What?”
“I’m just- When- You-”
“Kurt Hummel is speechless. I feel pretty accomplished right now.”
The epic face of bitchiness turned on him. “I was just wondering how long you’ve been, what? Gay? Bi?”
He just shrugged. He had come to terms with being what he called “equal opportunity” a while back, sometime after joining glee. It was just that most of the opportunities he’d gotten had been female so far. He said as much to Kurt, who continued staring at him like he was seeing him in a whole new light. “Dude, they’re going to the strip club soon. Do you really want to miss that awesome shoot out?”
Kurt returned his attention to the screen, obviously still trying to process the information, but enjoying the movie all the same. Puck did the same, but occasionally found himself sneaking glances over to Kurt on the other half of the couch. While his realization about guys in general came during sophomore year, his realization about Kurt specifically didn’t come until he was gone, run off by some asshole who couldn’t manage to stay expelled. It kinda surprised him how much he missed seeing Kurt almost every day; even his more annoying tendencies felt strangely absent from the choir room. At first, he thought it was just because it was different, but he was still feeling the loss long after everyone else had obviously adjusted to his absence.
Singing to Lauren had been an attempt to get his head on straight, so to speak. Instead he just ended up feeling like shit. Not just because of what it did to her, and he was really sorry about that, but he kinda felt like he was cheating on Kurt somehow, and not just because Lauren joined to replace him. He’d felt a twinge of that same thing when he was making out with Rachel last time. So after Glee, he walked over to an empty lot near the school to think.
Finding out he was halfway to in love with Kurt Hummel hadn’t been on his to-do list for the week, but Puck had never cared much for to-do lists anyway.
The movie went on, and Puck caught himself mouthing along with the prayer as the Saints administered their own version of last rights. A bit self-conscious about it with Kurt sitting right there, he glanced over, surprised to see him doing the same thing. He smirked at the screen. Leave it to a badass movie like this to provide the one Christian prayer that a Jew and an atheist could say together.
He kinda liked this, sitting on the couch and chilling with Kurt at the end of the long day. He could definitely get used to doing this more often. Like, every day kind of more often. That thought turned over and over in his head, through most of the rest of the movie. He liked Kurt, really liked him. He wanted to spend time like this with him. He also wanted to spend time with him with hands touching skin and mouths panting and a few less articles of clothing. He didn’t know if he’d actually go for someone like Puck, someone so opposite, not to mention the less than stellar past they had together. But it was worth a try. Despite all the crap he’d have to put up with from anyone that didn’t like it, it was worth at least a try.
The courtroom doors on the screen burst open and his attention was drawn back to the movie fully for the big finale. It was his favorite scene, and he knew the coming speech by heart. However, it struck a little more true this time around. He may not have been the best guy in the past, but at least he was a lesser form of filth. Hopefully that counted for something.
The final shots fired and segued into the interview scenes, credits scrolling over them. He could feel Kurt’s eyes on him and figured that was some kind of cue that he was supposed to say something, probably an excuse to leave.
“Dude, so is it just me, or does that one woman at the meatpacking plant at the beginning look a lot like Coach Beiste?”
~*~
Puck wasn’t expecting to see Kurt in the otherwise empty choir room a couple weeks later on Friday after school, but there he sat in his regular spot, tapping away at his phone without a care in the world. For a moment, Puck thought wildly that maybe he’d transferred back when no one was paying attention, but then he noticed the blazer draped over the back of the chair. He was still wearing the tie and pants, but the jacket seemed to have offended him somehow and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. Puck couldn’t help but notice that Kurt actually had really nice forearms, and his eyes drank them in no matter how socially unacceptable it was to do so when Kurt didn’t seem aware of his presence. He leaned against the doorframe, hoping he looked like his regular badass self and not some creepy stalker.
“What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”
He finally looked up from his phone, face running through confusion, recognition, a flash of something that could have been hopefulness (or was that Puck’s own bleeding through?), and finally settling on mocking with a hint of amusement. “That has to be the oldest line in the book.”
“Hey, I gotta start somewhere. Why not with the classics?” And holy shit, was he flirting with Kurt Hummel? And Kurt was flirting right back? There was another moment of (hopeful?) confusion and Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but a blonde bullet shot past Puck into the room and attacked the seated boy.
“Kurt! You came back!”
“Hi Brittany.”
Santana followed, far more calm than her other half. “Well, well, look who’s here.” She looked up at Puck still standing in the doorway. “You gonna move or not?”
Puck sent her a friendly glare and stepped into the room, setting his bag down and taking the seat two down from Kurt. Brittany was still chattering away about who knows what, then suddenly bounced away as Artie rolled into the room. She climbed onto her boyfriend’s lap, stockinged legs crossed as he wheeled over to his spot at the base of the risers. Kurt watched the scene with a fond smile on his face, then leaned over to whisper to Puck. “Why are those two dressed in Rachel Berry chic?”
Puck snorted. “I have no clue. For all I know, it could have something to do with Sam, Mike, and Artie singing Bieber earlier this week.”
Kurt stared, wide-eyed. “What exactly have I missed? Mercedes just gave me a full update a week ago.”
“This is us we’re talking about. Things change between first bell and lunch.” Kurt nodded understandingly. “Anyway, we worked the whole anthem angle this week, you know for Regionals. I helped Lauren out with a pretty good number, and Coach Sylvester helped us find one.” Kurt’s eyes bugged out at that. “And that happened too,” Puck gestured to where Santana was wrapping herself around Sam a few feet into the room, “like today. Pretty sure Finn’s gonna take another shot at Quinn now.”
“Oh my God,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Really? I guess I should try to talk some sense into him. This will not end well for anyone.”
“You’re telling me,” Puck muttered as the rest of the club filed in, most greeting Kurt enthusiastically. Mercedes and Tina practically smothered him and Finn clapped him on the back. Rachel was excited at first, but quickly switched her tone.
“Kurt, as much as I love you being here, I’m not sure how wise it is for you to sit in on our practice when you’re technically the competition.”
An unsurprising number of glares turned onto Rachel, but Kurt seemed unfazed. “If you do in fact begin work on competition pieces, I’ll gladly leave the room. However, I don’t see any more problems with watching a regular rehearsal than I do with karaoke with the group of us. It’s not like I’m going to learn some secret to take to the Warblers that I don’t already know.”
“Wait, you’re not here to stay?” Brittany interrupted.
He sighed. “No, Brittany. I got out of classes early today and thought I’d come to visit. Plus, Finn’s truck died yesterday and I figured I’d give him a lift home since Carole dropped him off this morning.”
“Thanks, bro,” Finn called back from the front row.
“No problem.”
It’s then that Mr. Schue comes in, acknowledging Kurt with a nod and a smile before starting afternoon rehearsal, letting Quinn take center stage. Puck quietly slid over a seat and leaned a bit closer to Kurt. “Hey,” he whispered, being careful not to disrupt Quinn while she sang about something about rising from the ground. “I was gonna go play mini-golf tonight. You wanna come with?”
Kurt nodded distractedly, half paying attention to the performance. “It’s been a while since I’ve been golfing. Dad and I used to go almost every week when I was younger. Want me to bring Finn too?”
Puck restrained from rolling his eyes, choosing instead to look like he was watching the front. “If you really feel like you need to, but I was hoping it could be just us. That way we could talk, get to know each other a little better, you know?”
A sharp intake of breath came from his left, then a low hiss of “Puck, are you- are you asking me on a-?”
“It is what it is,” Puck answered. “I know you guys do that family dinner thing, so I’ll pick you up around eight?” He faced Kurt and got a nod, then turned back as Quinn wrapped up her number. This might be out of left field for Kurt, but it made perfect sense to Puck. He may not know much about dating, but a date was probably a good way to start that, right? Even a hook-up sometimes started with a date. The date itself would be the easy part. It was after the date that had some potential for disaster.
~*~
Puck pulled up to the curb outside the Hudmel house at five til eight exactly. Instead of laying on the horn and waiting for Kurt to come out like he would if he was hanging out with Finn, he killed the engine and made his way up to the front door. He knocked and waited putting on his most charming smile in case Mr. H opened the door.
The porch light popped on and Mrs. H was there. Puck dropped the charming smile, knowing she’d seen through it since he tried to get a few extra cookies at a peewee football game in fourth grade. Instead, he smiled genuinely, albeit nervously, happy to see her. “Hey, Mrs. H, how’re you?”
“I’m doing just fine,” she said, smiling in return. “Why don’t you come on in? Finn didn’t mention anything, but you’re welcome here anytime, no matter what slips his mind.”
Puck stepped in and shut the door behind him, but didn’t go further than the entry hall. “I’m not actually staying. I’m here to pick up-”
“Hey Puck,” Kurt called rushing down the stairs. He darted around Carole, ignoring her bemused expression in favor of a coat from the closet. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he assured her before he tugged the door open and ushered Puck outside.
“Bye, Mrs. H!” he called over his shoulder as Kurt shut the door, double-checking that he had his keys before heading down the walk. Puck followed, pausing when Kurt turned toward his Navigator in the driveway. “Dude, where are you going?”
Kurt turned. “My car?”
“No.” Puck wrapped an arm around his shoulder and steered him out towards the street. “I asked, I drive. Common courtesy for any kind of hanging out.” He reached the passenger side door, unlocked and opened it. “In you go.”
He huffed, a light version of the Kurt Hummel Bitch Face gracing his features, but pulled himself up into the truck. “You do realize I’m not a girl, right?”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be a gentleman,” Puck replied, smirking as he shut the door. He walked around the hood and hopped into the driver’s seat, gunned the engine, and pulled into the street.
There was silence in the cab, not awkward but not comfortable either. Kurt started cycling through the preset stations on the radio, obviously hoping for something they could agree on. “Do you have a CD in already?”
“Um, yeah but-” Puck started fumbling for the case of discs he kept in the center console, but Kurt had pushed play.
“The way you move ain’t fair you know, hey soul sister...”
Kurt stared at the stereo in disbelief. “Is this the Warblers?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you get this? The Warblers have copies with different parts on different tracks for practicing in our spare time, but it’s a bit higher quality than this.”
“Even the show choir world has it’s black market,” Puck said cryptically. When Kurt was still confused, he said, “There’s a network of guys, supposedly all over the country, that sneak recording equipment into every single invitational, sectional, regional, and multiple guys in nationals. They make bootlegs and sell them online for whoever wants them. Guy told me it was one of the worst-kept secrets in the system.”
“What guy?”
“The guy I caught taping a recorder to his side in the bathroom before sectionals started.”
“Of course,” Kurt said, as if that’s the only way he could have found out. He watched out the window as it segued into Sam’s opening lines. “So is Rachel listening to it obsessively to find out where our weakness is?”
“Why do you think I haven’t told her? I just think it’s something cool to have, she’d take it and all the other sectionals albums ever and turn them into a freaking training program like the games Coach made us watch in football.”
Kurt snorted. “It’s not like any of you would actually listen to her if she did that.”
“Course not,” Puck said easily. “But then I’d start feeling all guilty and shit and I’m trying to avoid that.” He took the turn into the mini-golf parking lot gently. “Besides, you know how we work.”
“Last minute preparations and hope?”
“Nothing more, nothing less.” Kurt laughed as they parked. The walk to the rental station was short, but that didn’t stop Puck from trying a few times to grab Kurt’s had as they went. It didn’t happen, and then Kurt paid for his own club and ball, and later declined to split a milkshake with Puck (he thought he was being pretty obvious with that one). But the conversation was easy and they spent a lot of time just talking in between ribbing each other’s horrible putting skills. Puck figured, watching the Hudmel’s porch light extinguish after dropping Kurt off, that if this was what dating Kurt was like, he could get used to it.
~*~
When Rachel accused him of wanting a place to get drunk and have sex, Puck definitely had a specific person in mind. That’s why he mentioned making it a glee party, because even if he went to another school, Kurt was still a part of glee. Puck extended that invitation personally during one of their increasingly regular phone calls, but Finn tried to shut it down. Luckily, the moment Puck mentioned blackmail to Kurt as a potential solution (between concrete shoes and bribery), the other man said he had it under control and hung up.
Puck knew the party would be slow to start, which is why he pregamed. Not much, just two beers at home since he had to drive, but enough to get his courage up until Kurt arrived. He was going to speak to him right at the beginning, tell him he wanted to be his boyfriend and all that shit. After that, the evening could go one of two ways: Kurt could accept and they could spend the night getting drunk and doing body shots and making out in corners, or Kurt could reject him and he could get spectacularly shit-faced drowning his sorrows.
He really hoped it was the first one.
But then Kurt walked down the stairs with Mr. Dapper himself, who he hadn’t mentioned was coming in their phone calls. That’s when Puck switched to Emergency Plan C: drink. A lot. He frantically convinced Rachel to let him break into the liquor cabinet, needing something stronger than the current buzz in his brain. He wasn’t sure what all he said, but his lock pick was soon out of his pocket and he had a bottle of Jack in his hand. He cracked it open and took a swig before passing it back to Mike and emptying the shelves onto the bar.
The first shot had him feeling good, so he ran upstairs and dug up some sodas, thinking some people might want to take it slower. He was unsurprised that Finn grabbed one, seeing as he’d agreed to DD earlier. Turning away from the counter, Puck reclaimed the bottle from Mike long enough to fix a Jack and coke. He’d pace himself so he could keep a buzz all night.
Halfway through his first drink, he noticed that Kurt still didn’t have a red cup of his own. Instead, he was drinking straight from a can of diet coke. Unless he had poured into the can, which was more trouble than it was worth at the time, he wasn’t drinking either. Blaine was off chatting with Lauren, not sticking close to Kurt like Puck thought he would. Which meant...
Puck topped his cup off with soda. If he still had a chance with Kurt, he needed to be mostly sober to take it.
The night went on, most of it pretty entertaining. Santana and Brittany did the body shots Puck hoped he and Kurt would be doing. Quinn looked like she wanted to start an argument with Sam, but Mercedes pulled her over to play games. He joined Lauren in cheering on Rachel while she chugged a wine cooler. And Gargler was off drinking himself stupid and dancing in a corner.
Things took a turn for the interesting with the game of spin the bottle. Puck’s head was quite comfortable on Mike’s shoulder (even if he wasn’t really drunk, it was a nice excuse to cuddle, which he kinda liked), but he perked up at the liplock between Berry and Curly. They might have been enjoying themselves, but a glance at Kurt made it clear that he was pissed.
Then Rachel was yelling about duets and the midgets were bouncing all over the stage. That’s about all Puck could see since Lauren had decided that he should wear her glasses. He sang along, much like everyone else, but when it was over and they switched to something he could only identify as a show tune, his blurred vision caught sight of Kurt slinking out of the basement and up the stairs.
Puck returned the glasses and followed, making it up the stairs just in time for Kurt to thunk his head against the wall. “You okay, man?”
Kurt jumped, spinning to face the basement door. “Yeah, I’m fine, just a little...” He waved a hand in the air, not bothering to come up with a word. Puck nodded and motioned him to follow him into the kitchen.
“You look like you need a drink.” Kurt started to protest, but Puck grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and filled it from the sink. “Water always helps. Even if you haven’t been drinking.”
“Throwing up on Miss Pillsbury’s shoes will tend to put anyone off indulging,” Kurt commented, “especially when you’re trying to impress someone.” He took the glass and gave Puck a silent toast before downing it in one go.
“Wait, you’re actually trying to impress that guy?” Puck asked, snatching the glass back to refill it. “Why?”
“I don’t think you want to hear that. Might have too many feelings involved for you.” Kurt’s tone was teasing, but there was something there, like he genuinely didn’t think Puck would care.
“Try me.”
Reclaiming the water, Kurt took a sip. “I just want what everyone else in New Directions has already had at least once. Romance. I want to woo or be wooed. Even when you decided to date Mercedes, ill-advised though it may have been, you put some effort into it, and I know you two didn’t just sit around playing Scrabble.” Puck smiled fondly because while they may have made out a few times, the majority of their short relationship was spent on a cutthroat game of Monopoly. The relationship ended, but the game kept going; they were currently on their seventh round, meeting up for at least an hour every week to play, with the overall score at three to three. “All I have is a half-assed fling with Brittany where I was spending more time worrying if I looked straight enough than enjoying it, which I really wasn’t. I adore Britt, I do, but she’s not what I’m looking for. I want a fairytale and Blaine is the first real shot I have at that. He’s nice and charming and handsome and a really sweet guy, if a bit of a dork. And for once in my life, I want a kiss that sweeps me off my feet and makes me-”
Puck crowded Kurt against the counter and pressed their lips together. Kurt froze for a moment, but then Puck heard a faint sound of the glass hitting the counter and felt hands coming up to slide around the back of his neck. Then Kurt’s mouth was opening and his tongue was tangling with Puck’s. Puck poured his best into it, hoping it was that kiss Kurt wanted, the kind that swept him off his feet and hopefully into Puck’s arms. From his side, it felt good, almost too good to bear, so Puck dragged his mouth away and down the delicate jaw with the barest hint of stubble. He started sucking what he intended to be an impressive hickey into Kurt’s neck, catching his breath and thinking of how to admit the truth. Kurt made a faint noise in his throat and pulled Puck back up to eye level.
“Kurt, I-”
“Kurt?” Finn’s voice floated into the kitchen and the boys sprang apart. Kurt’s hands flew to his hair, trying to fix it, despite Puck not even touching it. “You up here, man?”
“We’re in here,” Puck called. It didn’t take long for Finn to get there, and Puck vaguely worried that he’d be able to tell what he’d interrupted. He was not expecting the first words out of Finn’s mouth to be:
“Blaine fell asleep in the middle of singing Hollaback Girl with Quinn and Lauren, so I think it’s time to take him home.”
Kurt rolled his eyes and excused himself, heading down the stairs with a determined look on his face. Finn took in Puck’s mostly put together demeanor. “How sober are you?”
“More than usual,” Puck admitted. “Why don’t you help Kurt with getting Frodo home and I’ll wind everyone down here? By the time you two get back with both cars they’ll actually agree to get in. Then I can get Rachel into bed.” At Finn’s glare, he backtracked. “I meant like tuck her in and drop some aspirin and a water on her desk. I’m not going down that road again.” Whether he meant Rachel or drunk sex with a virgin, he wasn’t sure. Probably both. “Besides, even as wasted as she is, she’s still gone over you.”
Finn smiled brightly and clapped his shoulder. “Oh, thanks, man. For, you know, the help, not the Rachel thing.” Liar. “I’m gonna help Kurt carry him up the stairs. Even if he wakes up, Blaine is trashed.”
“I’ll be down in a sec.” Finn left and Puck puttered around the kitchen, waiting for the sounds of two sober teens and a stumbler making their way to the front door. Apparently Preppy was still fascinated by the idea that Kurt and Finn were brothers. Welcome to the party, asshat. I was at the freaking wedding.
At the sound of the front door closing, Puck took a deep breath and re-entered the lion’s den. The first thing he saw was Brittany trying to unhook her bra while she was wearing it, a feat proving a little more difficult than usual with as much tequila as she had in her system. He came up behind her and grabbed her hands, pushing them to her sides instead. “Why don’t you leave that one on, Brittany?”
“I’m a rock star!” she proclaimed with the confidence only the drunk can have, cuddling up to Puck. It was a familiar feeling, seeing as they often ended up cuddling with her half-naked when they partied together. It sometimes went past cuddling, but it sated both of their inebriated urges.
“Rock stars can wear clothes,” Puck explained patiently. Brittany looked confused for a moment, then smiled, kissed Puck on the cheek, and went to find a shirt to put on. Sam and Santana were making out on one couch, while Mike and Tina had ended up horizontal on the floor. He’d break up those two first, then get everyone else a little under control. Sam and Santana he’d leave for last and send them in separate cars. Probably put the Latina with Finn. He broke up what could have been an awesome moment between Puck and Kurt and she was a right bitch when cockblocked. Whatever rant she gave him would have to suffice as punishment.
~*~
“You can’t be serious.”
“When we kissed, it- it felt good.”
Kurt was hearing things, there was no other explanation. “It felt good because you were drunk.”
“What’s the harm in going out on one crummy little date?” Blaine asked, calmly pouring sugar into his coffee, like this wasn’t a big deal.
“You’re gay, Blaine.”
“I- thought I was, but- I’ve never even had a boyfriend before. Isn’t this the time that you’re supposed to- figure stuff out?”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this right now.”
“Maybe I’m bi, I don’t know.”
Kurt bit back the response that wanted to come out, about how bi was a term that some gay guys used to be with girls and feel normal. The moment he thought it, he saw Puck in his head. With the way they had been getting a little closer recently, it had been happening more often, and if any guy were actually bisexual, it would be Puck. At least, if you took into account his track record and that kiss in Rachel’s kitchen.
He still wasn’t sure what that kiss was all about, but Puck wasn’t extremely drunk, so there was a good chance it wasn’t just a fluke. But there was the chance...
“Well, if you and Rachel work out, I guess you’ll have to send Puck a thank you gift of some sort.”
Blaine stopped stirring and stared at Kurt. “Why?”
“He’s the reason you two are together. After all, if he hadn’t broken into her dads’ liquor cabinet, neither of you would have gotten drunk and Rachel wouldn’t have had the brilliant idea of spin the bottle.”
“Huh.” Blaine refitted the lid back on his coffee cup. “Never thought I’d owe a relationship to a guy like him.”
That gave Kurt pause. “A guy like what?”
“You know, the rough-around-the-edges, small-town guy. That quintessential cradle-to-grave in one place kind of man. It’s just not really the kind of guy I normally even hang around with is all. I mean,” he took a quick sip, “you’ve seen the guys at Dalton. Everyone’s got a plan and goals. But a guy like Puck doesn’t do that. He’s not really going anywhere with his life. It’s just interesting.”
Kurt sometimes had taunts circling around in his head, cataloged as he heard them thrown his way. One stood out during Blaine’s little speech. “Blaine, do you know where my dad was born and raised?”
“Uh,” he was clearly racking his brains for the fact, “no?”
“He has lived in Lima his whole life. And another thing? He didn’t have a clue what to do with his life until he took a business class at OSU Lima and thought about the tire shop. In fact, when he was in high school, he was a lot like Puck.” Blaine stared, slack-jawed, at the notion. “I’ve always wanted to get out, but I know some people could do so much good if they stayed. Some of those people are my friends. So next time you decide you understand them and want to insult them, think about what they mean to me. And never call anyone I know a Lima loser ever again.”
“I didn’t-”
“But you did. Telling a McKinley student they aren’t going anywhere the polite way of calling them a Lima loser. You know what?” Kurt gathered his bag and his coffee. “I’m proud of what my dad has done. I’m proud to be his son. And I know that someday, Puck will do something to make me even more proud than I already am to be his friend. So you can have your jet-set friends with their plans to fly away, and I’ll keep my roots in home.” With that he stood and exited the coffee shop.
~*~
Puck was crashed out on the couch downstairs with Finn, playing video games and hoping to catch a glimpse of Kurt. He’d been ignoring Puck’s calls since Rachel’s party and Puck had finally had enough. He was determined to get Kurt to sit down and talk to him so that maybe they could take a step forward instead of two steps back.
“Kurt, I’m sorry, I-”
“Blaine, please just leave,” Kurt said, escorting Blanderson down the stairs and out the door. “I’ll talk to you later.” He slammed the door decisively and then joined the other two boys on the couch. He threw himself onto the last empty cushion and tilted his head all the way back, eyes shut.
Finn and Puck glanced at each other, unsure. “You okay, bro?” Finn asked.
“I’m fantastic,” Kurt said. Finn’s face scrunched up and he was about to say something when his phone beeped. He checked the text, grimaced, and stood.
“Quinn wants me to call her and talk about... something. She said it’s important. So...”
Puck just stared as Finn scurried up the stairs to his room. “Thought you were going to talk him out of that.”
“I tried.” Kurt didn’t bother opening his eyes. “He doesn’t listen well to anyone, including himself. In a twenty minute conversation, he said Quinn’s name five times and Rachel’s five times a minute.”
“Yeah, he’s completely over Berry.” Puck shook his head, marveling at his friend’s stubbornness, then turned to Kurt. “Okay dude, seriously. What’s up?”
He could see Kurt stiffen as his defensive walls went up. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me, man. You just shoved Anderson out of here while he was apologizing his ass off about something. What happened?”
He sighed and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “We had a disagreement about sex appeal.” Kurt took a deep breath. “And whether or not I had any.”
Puck was struck dumb. “What? Is he fucking blind?”
“We had a performance where, according to him, my sexy faces looked like gas pains, so we were upstairs while he gave me a crash course in how to be alluring,” Kurt admitted, blush faint on his cheeks. “I saw the faces in the mirror and obviously that is not a gift I was born with. Then he tried to talk to me about sex and I kicked him out.”
Part of Puck was upset at the thought of Blaine trying to discuss sex with Kurt which could have led to just sex with Kurt, but he pushed that line of thinking away. Priority number one was getting Kurt’s confidence back. “Hate to break it to you, but unless you’re me or maybe Santana, trying to be sexy doesn’t work. Even with us it’s backfired once or twice. Fact is, most people’s faces look really stupid when they’re trying to look hot. It’s believing you’re hot that makes you hot. And dude,” he clapped a hand on Kurt’s knee and squeezed. He waited until Kurt met his eyes before continuing. “You’re sexy just by being there. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
The other boy smiled warmly. “Thanks, Puck. Really.”
“‘S the truth.” But he returned the smile. “So what did he say that made you kick him out?”
“It’s more of a culmination of the past couple of weeks,” Kurt said. “He said some things after Rachel’s party that rubbed me the wrong way and never bothered to apologize even after I explained why. I didn’t really feel like listening to his idea of how I should think about sex, so I asked him to leave.”
Puck moved closer on the couch. “What was he saying?”
“He was focusing on the physical aspects of sex and seducing. I’m more attached to the emotional side. Furthering a relationship and connecting instead of just getting off. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he hastened to reassure Puck, “it’s just not my opinion. I prefer the slow build of a good romance novel to some ridiculous adult film. Really, what are those writers thinking when they come up with the scenarios?”
“They’re probably not,” Puck said, laughing. Then he thought about the rest of what Kurt had said. “Is that why you ignored me after the party? Was it too much? I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m kinda not, except for if I pushed you too far or something, I’m sorry for that if that’s what happened, but you seemed kinda into it during so-”
“Puck,” Kurt interrupted. Puck shut up. “It wasn’t too much. I... was wary that you might have had a bit too much to drink and it was affecting your judgment. I didn’t...”
“What?”
“I didn’t want you to take it back,” Kurt whispered.
He stared a moment, not quite believing what Kurt was saying. Then Puck leaned forward, hand still resting on Kurt’s knee, and kissed him. Just a simple press of lips, firm and sure without a hint of hesitation. He sat back and smiled softly.
“Not taking it back.”
Kurt looked utterly shocked, but then he smiled softly. “You’re a good friend, Puck. You’ve got a good heart.” Puck snorted, which caused the other boy to smack his arm with no real force. “I’m serious. You may be a little rough around the edges, but someday you’re gonna do great things.” Kurt grinned, wide and bright. “And I can’t wait for the day when I can point to you on TV or a magazine cover and say I knew you when.” He waited until Puck had returned the smile, nodding, then picked up the TV remote and switched over to surf the cable channels.
Even after Kurt settled on some reality show with women screaming at each other about clothes, Puck couldn’t quite stop the warm feeling in his chest at Kurt’s words.
~*~
“Blaine kissed me.”
Those were not the first words Puck expected to hear when he called Kurt to rib him about how badly they were going to whoop Warbler ass in a few days.
"He what?"
"He kissed me." Kurt sounded frazzled. "I don't really know. Pavarotti died and I was singing and then he's talking about how I moved him or something and he kissed me."
"Wait, who died?"
"Pavarotti, the bird I've been taking care of for my Warbler initiation or whatever it is."
"Dude, your canary died?"
"Not the important part of the story, Puck."
Puck knew that, but he was hoping he'd misheard or misunderstood or mis-something the rest of it. "So, he kissed you and? What'd you do?"
"He asked if I would consider going out with him."
Silence followed. "And? You said?"
"I said I'd think about it."
Puck felt warm, but not in a good way. More like his blood was on a low-level simmer. "What do you need to think about? The guy’s a douchebag!”
"At least he's offering."
And now it was a full rolling boil. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Kurt took a deep breath. "It means you can’t just kiss me a few times and not really talk about it and expect me to dump my best shot at a normal high school romance to run into your arms."
"I'm not asking you to," Puck retorted, because no matter what he wanted, he wasn’t going to actually ask.
If he didn't ask, he couldn't be shot down.
"Then what are you saying?" Kurt's voice broke into his thoughts.
It didn't take long for his sidetracked brain to come up with a legitimate reason for Kurt to not date the douchebag. "He's a douchebag!"
"He may have had his bad moments," Kurt admitted, "but he's still the same sweet guy I met on the staircase of the school you sent me to spy on." Puck cringed at the reminder. "I appreciate you looking out for me, but I can make my own mistakes." He sighed. "Now unless you have something else to say..."
"No, I'm good," he huffed.
"Goodbye, Puck." The click sounded final to Puck's ears.
"Bye." He dropped the phone onto his bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Fuck, I never should've sent him to gay Hogwarts."
Part Two
Author: kennagirl
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Word Count: 11792
Rating: R for the hormones and language of teenage boys
Summary:He just kinda accepts it as fact, loving Kurt, with no fanfare. However, getting Kurt will be a little harder than that.
Mix: by supergreak
Beta: flyingsoftly
Notes: I apologize for this being so late. I wish my life was free of drama, but alas, it is not.
"Hello, Hudmel clan!" Puck called as he let himself in the front door. He had long been used to doing that back when it was just Finn and Mrs. H, mostly because of Finn’s inability to remember to lock the front door. Finn was good at remembering most everything else, but it was like Puck remembering to put the lid back on the toothpaste: he could think about doing it at any other time except when he actually needed to. Since he and Finn had fixed their broken friendship over the championship game, he’d transferred his make-yourself-at-home attitude to the new house, with the addition of signaling his presence. Neither he nor Mr. H was looking forward to the potential of another meeting where one party had no pants on, so Puck heeded his request.
He followed the sound of a gunshot and lots of yelling to the living room, expecting to find Finn vegged out in front of a Law & Order rerun, but instead found Kurt curled up on the couch. “Hey, man,” he commented, looking around and seeing that he was the only one watching TV. “Finn around?”
Kurt rolled his eyes slightly before returning them to the screen. “He’s upstairs passed out between bouts of begging for chicken soup and claiming he’s dying. I think half the meds Carole is giving him are just to shut him up.”
Puck winced. “Right, the mono. If he’s half as bad with this as he was that time we both got the flu, I feel really bad for you. Mom and Mrs. H let me stay here so my sis wouldn’t get it and I considered smothering him with his pillow by the end of the first day.”
“I’ve considered it a few times already. But it’s date night for Dad and Carole, so I promised I’d keep half an eye on him so they could actually enjoy Valentine’s weekend.” His face soured and he burrowed a bit deeper into the couch. “That way someone in this house gets something from this ridiculous holiday.”
“Plans go bad?” Puck asked, not really expecting an answer as he dropped his backpack full of games on the floor and plopped down onto the couch. “Is that why you’re watching...” He finally paid a few moments of attention to the screen and recognized the movie instantly. “Boondock Saints? Really?”
“Yeah,” Kurt admitted. “Got fed up with romance being shoved down my throat, so I decided to turn to some blood and action for the night. Plus Sean Patrick Flanery is pretty hot.” He cut off abruptly, obviously remembering who he was sitting next to on the couch.
Puck was unfazed. “Yeah, he’s nice and all, but I prefer Norman Reedus. He’s got a good body, plus there’s just something about his eyes.” He half-expected Kurt to fight him on the point, and was admittedly surprised by the silence next to him. When he glanced over, he saw Kurt staring at him, utterly stunned. “What?”
“I’m just- When- You-”
“Kurt Hummel is speechless. I feel pretty accomplished right now.”
The epic face of bitchiness turned on him. “I was just wondering how long you’ve been, what? Gay? Bi?”
He just shrugged. He had come to terms with being what he called “equal opportunity” a while back, sometime after joining glee. It was just that most of the opportunities he’d gotten had been female so far. He said as much to Kurt, who continued staring at him like he was seeing him in a whole new light. “Dude, they’re going to the strip club soon. Do you really want to miss that awesome shoot out?”
Kurt returned his attention to the screen, obviously still trying to process the information, but enjoying the movie all the same. Puck did the same, but occasionally found himself sneaking glances over to Kurt on the other half of the couch. While his realization about guys in general came during sophomore year, his realization about Kurt specifically didn’t come until he was gone, run off by some asshole who couldn’t manage to stay expelled. It kinda surprised him how much he missed seeing Kurt almost every day; even his more annoying tendencies felt strangely absent from the choir room. At first, he thought it was just because it was different, but he was still feeling the loss long after everyone else had obviously adjusted to his absence.
Singing to Lauren had been an attempt to get his head on straight, so to speak. Instead he just ended up feeling like shit. Not just because of what it did to her, and he was really sorry about that, but he kinda felt like he was cheating on Kurt somehow, and not just because Lauren joined to replace him. He’d felt a twinge of that same thing when he was making out with Rachel last time. So after Glee, he walked over to an empty lot near the school to think.
Finding out he was halfway to in love with Kurt Hummel hadn’t been on his to-do list for the week, but Puck had never cared much for to-do lists anyway.
The movie went on, and Puck caught himself mouthing along with the prayer as the Saints administered their own version of last rights. A bit self-conscious about it with Kurt sitting right there, he glanced over, surprised to see him doing the same thing. He smirked at the screen. Leave it to a badass movie like this to provide the one Christian prayer that a Jew and an atheist could say together.
He kinda liked this, sitting on the couch and chilling with Kurt at the end of the long day. He could definitely get used to doing this more often. Like, every day kind of more often. That thought turned over and over in his head, through most of the rest of the movie. He liked Kurt, really liked him. He wanted to spend time like this with him. He also wanted to spend time with him with hands touching skin and mouths panting and a few less articles of clothing. He didn’t know if he’d actually go for someone like Puck, someone so opposite, not to mention the less than stellar past they had together. But it was worth a try. Despite all the crap he’d have to put up with from anyone that didn’t like it, it was worth at least a try.
The courtroom doors on the screen burst open and his attention was drawn back to the movie fully for the big finale. It was his favorite scene, and he knew the coming speech by heart. However, it struck a little more true this time around. He may not have been the best guy in the past, but at least he was a lesser form of filth. Hopefully that counted for something.
The final shots fired and segued into the interview scenes, credits scrolling over them. He could feel Kurt’s eyes on him and figured that was some kind of cue that he was supposed to say something, probably an excuse to leave.
“Dude, so is it just me, or does that one woman at the meatpacking plant at the beginning look a lot like Coach Beiste?”
~*~
Puck wasn’t expecting to see Kurt in the otherwise empty choir room a couple weeks later on Friday after school, but there he sat in his regular spot, tapping away at his phone without a care in the world. For a moment, Puck thought wildly that maybe he’d transferred back when no one was paying attention, but then he noticed the blazer draped over the back of the chair. He was still wearing the tie and pants, but the jacket seemed to have offended him somehow and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. Puck couldn’t help but notice that Kurt actually had really nice forearms, and his eyes drank them in no matter how socially unacceptable it was to do so when Kurt didn’t seem aware of his presence. He leaned against the doorframe, hoping he looked like his regular badass self and not some creepy stalker.
“What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”
He finally looked up from his phone, face running through confusion, recognition, a flash of something that could have been hopefulness (or was that Puck’s own bleeding through?), and finally settling on mocking with a hint of amusement. “That has to be the oldest line in the book.”
“Hey, I gotta start somewhere. Why not with the classics?” And holy shit, was he flirting with Kurt Hummel? And Kurt was flirting right back? There was another moment of (hopeful?) confusion and Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but a blonde bullet shot past Puck into the room and attacked the seated boy.
“Kurt! You came back!”
“Hi Brittany.”
Santana followed, far more calm than her other half. “Well, well, look who’s here.” She looked up at Puck still standing in the doorway. “You gonna move or not?”
Puck sent her a friendly glare and stepped into the room, setting his bag down and taking the seat two down from Kurt. Brittany was still chattering away about who knows what, then suddenly bounced away as Artie rolled into the room. She climbed onto her boyfriend’s lap, stockinged legs crossed as he wheeled over to his spot at the base of the risers. Kurt watched the scene with a fond smile on his face, then leaned over to whisper to Puck. “Why are those two dressed in Rachel Berry chic?”
Puck snorted. “I have no clue. For all I know, it could have something to do with Sam, Mike, and Artie singing Bieber earlier this week.”
Kurt stared, wide-eyed. “What exactly have I missed? Mercedes just gave me a full update a week ago.”
“This is us we’re talking about. Things change between first bell and lunch.” Kurt nodded understandingly. “Anyway, we worked the whole anthem angle this week, you know for Regionals. I helped Lauren out with a pretty good number, and Coach Sylvester helped us find one.” Kurt’s eyes bugged out at that. “And that happened too,” Puck gestured to where Santana was wrapping herself around Sam a few feet into the room, “like today. Pretty sure Finn’s gonna take another shot at Quinn now.”
“Oh my God,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Really? I guess I should try to talk some sense into him. This will not end well for anyone.”
“You’re telling me,” Puck muttered as the rest of the club filed in, most greeting Kurt enthusiastically. Mercedes and Tina practically smothered him and Finn clapped him on the back. Rachel was excited at first, but quickly switched her tone.
“Kurt, as much as I love you being here, I’m not sure how wise it is for you to sit in on our practice when you’re technically the competition.”
An unsurprising number of glares turned onto Rachel, but Kurt seemed unfazed. “If you do in fact begin work on competition pieces, I’ll gladly leave the room. However, I don’t see any more problems with watching a regular rehearsal than I do with karaoke with the group of us. It’s not like I’m going to learn some secret to take to the Warblers that I don’t already know.”
“Wait, you’re not here to stay?” Brittany interrupted.
He sighed. “No, Brittany. I got out of classes early today and thought I’d come to visit. Plus, Finn’s truck died yesterday and I figured I’d give him a lift home since Carole dropped him off this morning.”
“Thanks, bro,” Finn called back from the front row.
“No problem.”
It’s then that Mr. Schue comes in, acknowledging Kurt with a nod and a smile before starting afternoon rehearsal, letting Quinn take center stage. Puck quietly slid over a seat and leaned a bit closer to Kurt. “Hey,” he whispered, being careful not to disrupt Quinn while she sang about something about rising from the ground. “I was gonna go play mini-golf tonight. You wanna come with?”
Kurt nodded distractedly, half paying attention to the performance. “It’s been a while since I’ve been golfing. Dad and I used to go almost every week when I was younger. Want me to bring Finn too?”
Puck restrained from rolling his eyes, choosing instead to look like he was watching the front. “If you really feel like you need to, but I was hoping it could be just us. That way we could talk, get to know each other a little better, you know?”
A sharp intake of breath came from his left, then a low hiss of “Puck, are you- are you asking me on a-?”
“It is what it is,” Puck answered. “I know you guys do that family dinner thing, so I’ll pick you up around eight?” He faced Kurt and got a nod, then turned back as Quinn wrapped up her number. This might be out of left field for Kurt, but it made perfect sense to Puck. He may not know much about dating, but a date was probably a good way to start that, right? Even a hook-up sometimes started with a date. The date itself would be the easy part. It was after the date that had some potential for disaster.
~*~
Puck pulled up to the curb outside the Hudmel house at five til eight exactly. Instead of laying on the horn and waiting for Kurt to come out like he would if he was hanging out with Finn, he killed the engine and made his way up to the front door. He knocked and waited putting on his most charming smile in case Mr. H opened the door.
The porch light popped on and Mrs. H was there. Puck dropped the charming smile, knowing she’d seen through it since he tried to get a few extra cookies at a peewee football game in fourth grade. Instead, he smiled genuinely, albeit nervously, happy to see her. “Hey, Mrs. H, how’re you?”
“I’m doing just fine,” she said, smiling in return. “Why don’t you come on in? Finn didn’t mention anything, but you’re welcome here anytime, no matter what slips his mind.”
Puck stepped in and shut the door behind him, but didn’t go further than the entry hall. “I’m not actually staying. I’m here to pick up-”
“Hey Puck,” Kurt called rushing down the stairs. He darted around Carole, ignoring her bemused expression in favor of a coat from the closet. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he assured her before he tugged the door open and ushered Puck outside.
“Bye, Mrs. H!” he called over his shoulder as Kurt shut the door, double-checking that he had his keys before heading down the walk. Puck followed, pausing when Kurt turned toward his Navigator in the driveway. “Dude, where are you going?”
Kurt turned. “My car?”
“No.” Puck wrapped an arm around his shoulder and steered him out towards the street. “I asked, I drive. Common courtesy for any kind of hanging out.” He reached the passenger side door, unlocked and opened it. “In you go.”
He huffed, a light version of the Kurt Hummel Bitch Face gracing his features, but pulled himself up into the truck. “You do realize I’m not a girl, right?”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be a gentleman,” Puck replied, smirking as he shut the door. He walked around the hood and hopped into the driver’s seat, gunned the engine, and pulled into the street.
There was silence in the cab, not awkward but not comfortable either. Kurt started cycling through the preset stations on the radio, obviously hoping for something they could agree on. “Do you have a CD in already?”
“Um, yeah but-” Puck started fumbling for the case of discs he kept in the center console, but Kurt had pushed play.
“The way you move ain’t fair you know, hey soul sister...”
Kurt stared at the stereo in disbelief. “Is this the Warblers?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you get this? The Warblers have copies with different parts on different tracks for practicing in our spare time, but it’s a bit higher quality than this.”
“Even the show choir world has it’s black market,” Puck said cryptically. When Kurt was still confused, he said, “There’s a network of guys, supposedly all over the country, that sneak recording equipment into every single invitational, sectional, regional, and multiple guys in nationals. They make bootlegs and sell them online for whoever wants them. Guy told me it was one of the worst-kept secrets in the system.”
“What guy?”
“The guy I caught taping a recorder to his side in the bathroom before sectionals started.”
“Of course,” Kurt said, as if that’s the only way he could have found out. He watched out the window as it segued into Sam’s opening lines. “So is Rachel listening to it obsessively to find out where our weakness is?”
“Why do you think I haven’t told her? I just think it’s something cool to have, she’d take it and all the other sectionals albums ever and turn them into a freaking training program like the games Coach made us watch in football.”
Kurt snorted. “It’s not like any of you would actually listen to her if she did that.”
“Course not,” Puck said easily. “But then I’d start feeling all guilty and shit and I’m trying to avoid that.” He took the turn into the mini-golf parking lot gently. “Besides, you know how we work.”
“Last minute preparations and hope?”
“Nothing more, nothing less.” Kurt laughed as they parked. The walk to the rental station was short, but that didn’t stop Puck from trying a few times to grab Kurt’s had as they went. It didn’t happen, and then Kurt paid for his own club and ball, and later declined to split a milkshake with Puck (he thought he was being pretty obvious with that one). But the conversation was easy and they spent a lot of time just talking in between ribbing each other’s horrible putting skills. Puck figured, watching the Hudmel’s porch light extinguish after dropping Kurt off, that if this was what dating Kurt was like, he could get used to it.
~*~
When Rachel accused him of wanting a place to get drunk and have sex, Puck definitely had a specific person in mind. That’s why he mentioned making it a glee party, because even if he went to another school, Kurt was still a part of glee. Puck extended that invitation personally during one of their increasingly regular phone calls, but Finn tried to shut it down. Luckily, the moment Puck mentioned blackmail to Kurt as a potential solution (between concrete shoes and bribery), the other man said he had it under control and hung up.
Puck knew the party would be slow to start, which is why he pregamed. Not much, just two beers at home since he had to drive, but enough to get his courage up until Kurt arrived. He was going to speak to him right at the beginning, tell him he wanted to be his boyfriend and all that shit. After that, the evening could go one of two ways: Kurt could accept and they could spend the night getting drunk and doing body shots and making out in corners, or Kurt could reject him and he could get spectacularly shit-faced drowning his sorrows.
He really hoped it was the first one.
But then Kurt walked down the stairs with Mr. Dapper himself, who he hadn’t mentioned was coming in their phone calls. That’s when Puck switched to Emergency Plan C: drink. A lot. He frantically convinced Rachel to let him break into the liquor cabinet, needing something stronger than the current buzz in his brain. He wasn’t sure what all he said, but his lock pick was soon out of his pocket and he had a bottle of Jack in his hand. He cracked it open and took a swig before passing it back to Mike and emptying the shelves onto the bar.
The first shot had him feeling good, so he ran upstairs and dug up some sodas, thinking some people might want to take it slower. He was unsurprised that Finn grabbed one, seeing as he’d agreed to DD earlier. Turning away from the counter, Puck reclaimed the bottle from Mike long enough to fix a Jack and coke. He’d pace himself so he could keep a buzz all night.
Halfway through his first drink, he noticed that Kurt still didn’t have a red cup of his own. Instead, he was drinking straight from a can of diet coke. Unless he had poured into the can, which was more trouble than it was worth at the time, he wasn’t drinking either. Blaine was off chatting with Lauren, not sticking close to Kurt like Puck thought he would. Which meant...
Puck topped his cup off with soda. If he still had a chance with Kurt, he needed to be mostly sober to take it.
The night went on, most of it pretty entertaining. Santana and Brittany did the body shots Puck hoped he and Kurt would be doing. Quinn looked like she wanted to start an argument with Sam, but Mercedes pulled her over to play games. He joined Lauren in cheering on Rachel while she chugged a wine cooler. And Gargler was off drinking himself stupid and dancing in a corner.
Things took a turn for the interesting with the game of spin the bottle. Puck’s head was quite comfortable on Mike’s shoulder (even if he wasn’t really drunk, it was a nice excuse to cuddle, which he kinda liked), but he perked up at the liplock between Berry and Curly. They might have been enjoying themselves, but a glance at Kurt made it clear that he was pissed.
Then Rachel was yelling about duets and the midgets were bouncing all over the stage. That’s about all Puck could see since Lauren had decided that he should wear her glasses. He sang along, much like everyone else, but when it was over and they switched to something he could only identify as a show tune, his blurred vision caught sight of Kurt slinking out of the basement and up the stairs.
Puck returned the glasses and followed, making it up the stairs just in time for Kurt to thunk his head against the wall. “You okay, man?”
Kurt jumped, spinning to face the basement door. “Yeah, I’m fine, just a little...” He waved a hand in the air, not bothering to come up with a word. Puck nodded and motioned him to follow him into the kitchen.
“You look like you need a drink.” Kurt started to protest, but Puck grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and filled it from the sink. “Water always helps. Even if you haven’t been drinking.”
“Throwing up on Miss Pillsbury’s shoes will tend to put anyone off indulging,” Kurt commented, “especially when you’re trying to impress someone.” He took the glass and gave Puck a silent toast before downing it in one go.
“Wait, you’re actually trying to impress that guy?” Puck asked, snatching the glass back to refill it. “Why?”
“I don’t think you want to hear that. Might have too many feelings involved for you.” Kurt’s tone was teasing, but there was something there, like he genuinely didn’t think Puck would care.
“Try me.”
Reclaiming the water, Kurt took a sip. “I just want what everyone else in New Directions has already had at least once. Romance. I want to woo or be wooed. Even when you decided to date Mercedes, ill-advised though it may have been, you put some effort into it, and I know you two didn’t just sit around playing Scrabble.” Puck smiled fondly because while they may have made out a few times, the majority of their short relationship was spent on a cutthroat game of Monopoly. The relationship ended, but the game kept going; they were currently on their seventh round, meeting up for at least an hour every week to play, with the overall score at three to three. “All I have is a half-assed fling with Brittany where I was spending more time worrying if I looked straight enough than enjoying it, which I really wasn’t. I adore Britt, I do, but she’s not what I’m looking for. I want a fairytale and Blaine is the first real shot I have at that. He’s nice and charming and handsome and a really sweet guy, if a bit of a dork. And for once in my life, I want a kiss that sweeps me off my feet and makes me-”
Puck crowded Kurt against the counter and pressed their lips together. Kurt froze for a moment, but then Puck heard a faint sound of the glass hitting the counter and felt hands coming up to slide around the back of his neck. Then Kurt’s mouth was opening and his tongue was tangling with Puck’s. Puck poured his best into it, hoping it was that kiss Kurt wanted, the kind that swept him off his feet and hopefully into Puck’s arms. From his side, it felt good, almost too good to bear, so Puck dragged his mouth away and down the delicate jaw with the barest hint of stubble. He started sucking what he intended to be an impressive hickey into Kurt’s neck, catching his breath and thinking of how to admit the truth. Kurt made a faint noise in his throat and pulled Puck back up to eye level.
“Kurt, I-”
“Kurt?” Finn’s voice floated into the kitchen and the boys sprang apart. Kurt’s hands flew to his hair, trying to fix it, despite Puck not even touching it. “You up here, man?”
“We’re in here,” Puck called. It didn’t take long for Finn to get there, and Puck vaguely worried that he’d be able to tell what he’d interrupted. He was not expecting the first words out of Finn’s mouth to be:
“Blaine fell asleep in the middle of singing Hollaback Girl with Quinn and Lauren, so I think it’s time to take him home.”
Kurt rolled his eyes and excused himself, heading down the stairs with a determined look on his face. Finn took in Puck’s mostly put together demeanor. “How sober are you?”
“More than usual,” Puck admitted. “Why don’t you help Kurt with getting Frodo home and I’ll wind everyone down here? By the time you two get back with both cars they’ll actually agree to get in. Then I can get Rachel into bed.” At Finn’s glare, he backtracked. “I meant like tuck her in and drop some aspirin and a water on her desk. I’m not going down that road again.” Whether he meant Rachel or drunk sex with a virgin, he wasn’t sure. Probably both. “Besides, even as wasted as she is, she’s still gone over you.”
Finn smiled brightly and clapped his shoulder. “Oh, thanks, man. For, you know, the help, not the Rachel thing.” Liar. “I’m gonna help Kurt carry him up the stairs. Even if he wakes up, Blaine is trashed.”
“I’ll be down in a sec.” Finn left and Puck puttered around the kitchen, waiting for the sounds of two sober teens and a stumbler making their way to the front door. Apparently Preppy was still fascinated by the idea that Kurt and Finn were brothers. Welcome to the party, asshat. I was at the freaking wedding.
At the sound of the front door closing, Puck took a deep breath and re-entered the lion’s den. The first thing he saw was Brittany trying to unhook her bra while she was wearing it, a feat proving a little more difficult than usual with as much tequila as she had in her system. He came up behind her and grabbed her hands, pushing them to her sides instead. “Why don’t you leave that one on, Brittany?”
“I’m a rock star!” she proclaimed with the confidence only the drunk can have, cuddling up to Puck. It was a familiar feeling, seeing as they often ended up cuddling with her half-naked when they partied together. It sometimes went past cuddling, but it sated both of their inebriated urges.
“Rock stars can wear clothes,” Puck explained patiently. Brittany looked confused for a moment, then smiled, kissed Puck on the cheek, and went to find a shirt to put on. Sam and Santana were making out on one couch, while Mike and Tina had ended up horizontal on the floor. He’d break up those two first, then get everyone else a little under control. Sam and Santana he’d leave for last and send them in separate cars. Probably put the Latina with Finn. He broke up what could have been an awesome moment between Puck and Kurt and she was a right bitch when cockblocked. Whatever rant she gave him would have to suffice as punishment.
~*~
“You can’t be serious.”
“When we kissed, it- it felt good.”
Kurt was hearing things, there was no other explanation. “It felt good because you were drunk.”
“What’s the harm in going out on one crummy little date?” Blaine asked, calmly pouring sugar into his coffee, like this wasn’t a big deal.
“You’re gay, Blaine.”
“I- thought I was, but- I’ve never even had a boyfriend before. Isn’t this the time that you’re supposed to- figure stuff out?”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this right now.”
“Maybe I’m bi, I don’t know.”
Kurt bit back the response that wanted to come out, about how bi was a term that some gay guys used to be with girls and feel normal. The moment he thought it, he saw Puck in his head. With the way they had been getting a little closer recently, it had been happening more often, and if any guy were actually bisexual, it would be Puck. At least, if you took into account his track record and that kiss in Rachel’s kitchen.
He still wasn’t sure what that kiss was all about, but Puck wasn’t extremely drunk, so there was a good chance it wasn’t just a fluke. But there was the chance...
“Well, if you and Rachel work out, I guess you’ll have to send Puck a thank you gift of some sort.”
Blaine stopped stirring and stared at Kurt. “Why?”
“He’s the reason you two are together. After all, if he hadn’t broken into her dads’ liquor cabinet, neither of you would have gotten drunk and Rachel wouldn’t have had the brilliant idea of spin the bottle.”
“Huh.” Blaine refitted the lid back on his coffee cup. “Never thought I’d owe a relationship to a guy like him.”
That gave Kurt pause. “A guy like what?”
“You know, the rough-around-the-edges, small-town guy. That quintessential cradle-to-grave in one place kind of man. It’s just not really the kind of guy I normally even hang around with is all. I mean,” he took a quick sip, “you’ve seen the guys at Dalton. Everyone’s got a plan and goals. But a guy like Puck doesn’t do that. He’s not really going anywhere with his life. It’s just interesting.”
Kurt sometimes had taunts circling around in his head, cataloged as he heard them thrown his way. One stood out during Blaine’s little speech. “Blaine, do you know where my dad was born and raised?”
“Uh,” he was clearly racking his brains for the fact, “no?”
“He has lived in Lima his whole life. And another thing? He didn’t have a clue what to do with his life until he took a business class at OSU Lima and thought about the tire shop. In fact, when he was in high school, he was a lot like Puck.” Blaine stared, slack-jawed, at the notion. “I’ve always wanted to get out, but I know some people could do so much good if they stayed. Some of those people are my friends. So next time you decide you understand them and want to insult them, think about what they mean to me. And never call anyone I know a Lima loser ever again.”
“I didn’t-”
“But you did. Telling a McKinley student they aren’t going anywhere the polite way of calling them a Lima loser. You know what?” Kurt gathered his bag and his coffee. “I’m proud of what my dad has done. I’m proud to be his son. And I know that someday, Puck will do something to make me even more proud than I already am to be his friend. So you can have your jet-set friends with their plans to fly away, and I’ll keep my roots in home.” With that he stood and exited the coffee shop.
~*~
Puck was crashed out on the couch downstairs with Finn, playing video games and hoping to catch a glimpse of Kurt. He’d been ignoring Puck’s calls since Rachel’s party and Puck had finally had enough. He was determined to get Kurt to sit down and talk to him so that maybe they could take a step forward instead of two steps back.
“Kurt, I’m sorry, I-”
“Blaine, please just leave,” Kurt said, escorting Blanderson down the stairs and out the door. “I’ll talk to you later.” He slammed the door decisively and then joined the other two boys on the couch. He threw himself onto the last empty cushion and tilted his head all the way back, eyes shut.
Finn and Puck glanced at each other, unsure. “You okay, bro?” Finn asked.
“I’m fantastic,” Kurt said. Finn’s face scrunched up and he was about to say something when his phone beeped. He checked the text, grimaced, and stood.
“Quinn wants me to call her and talk about... something. She said it’s important. So...”
Puck just stared as Finn scurried up the stairs to his room. “Thought you were going to talk him out of that.”
“I tried.” Kurt didn’t bother opening his eyes. “He doesn’t listen well to anyone, including himself. In a twenty minute conversation, he said Quinn’s name five times and Rachel’s five times a minute.”
“Yeah, he’s completely over Berry.” Puck shook his head, marveling at his friend’s stubbornness, then turned to Kurt. “Okay dude, seriously. What’s up?”
He could see Kurt stiffen as his defensive walls went up. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me, man. You just shoved Anderson out of here while he was apologizing his ass off about something. What happened?”
He sighed and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “We had a disagreement about sex appeal.” Kurt took a deep breath. “And whether or not I had any.”
Puck was struck dumb. “What? Is he fucking blind?”
“We had a performance where, according to him, my sexy faces looked like gas pains, so we were upstairs while he gave me a crash course in how to be alluring,” Kurt admitted, blush faint on his cheeks. “I saw the faces in the mirror and obviously that is not a gift I was born with. Then he tried to talk to me about sex and I kicked him out.”
Part of Puck was upset at the thought of Blaine trying to discuss sex with Kurt which could have led to just sex with Kurt, but he pushed that line of thinking away. Priority number one was getting Kurt’s confidence back. “Hate to break it to you, but unless you’re me or maybe Santana, trying to be sexy doesn’t work. Even with us it’s backfired once or twice. Fact is, most people’s faces look really stupid when they’re trying to look hot. It’s believing you’re hot that makes you hot. And dude,” he clapped a hand on Kurt’s knee and squeezed. He waited until Kurt met his eyes before continuing. “You’re sexy just by being there. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
The other boy smiled warmly. “Thanks, Puck. Really.”
“‘S the truth.” But he returned the smile. “So what did he say that made you kick him out?”
“It’s more of a culmination of the past couple of weeks,” Kurt said. “He said some things after Rachel’s party that rubbed me the wrong way and never bothered to apologize even after I explained why. I didn’t really feel like listening to his idea of how I should think about sex, so I asked him to leave.”
Puck moved closer on the couch. “What was he saying?”
“He was focusing on the physical aspects of sex and seducing. I’m more attached to the emotional side. Furthering a relationship and connecting instead of just getting off. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he hastened to reassure Puck, “it’s just not my opinion. I prefer the slow build of a good romance novel to some ridiculous adult film. Really, what are those writers thinking when they come up with the scenarios?”
“They’re probably not,” Puck said, laughing. Then he thought about the rest of what Kurt had said. “Is that why you ignored me after the party? Was it too much? I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m kinda not, except for if I pushed you too far or something, I’m sorry for that if that’s what happened, but you seemed kinda into it during so-”
“Puck,” Kurt interrupted. Puck shut up. “It wasn’t too much. I... was wary that you might have had a bit too much to drink and it was affecting your judgment. I didn’t...”
“What?”
“I didn’t want you to take it back,” Kurt whispered.
He stared a moment, not quite believing what Kurt was saying. Then Puck leaned forward, hand still resting on Kurt’s knee, and kissed him. Just a simple press of lips, firm and sure without a hint of hesitation. He sat back and smiled softly.
“Not taking it back.”
Kurt looked utterly shocked, but then he smiled softly. “You’re a good friend, Puck. You’ve got a good heart.” Puck snorted, which caused the other boy to smack his arm with no real force. “I’m serious. You may be a little rough around the edges, but someday you’re gonna do great things.” Kurt grinned, wide and bright. “And I can’t wait for the day when I can point to you on TV or a magazine cover and say I knew you when.” He waited until Puck had returned the smile, nodding, then picked up the TV remote and switched over to surf the cable channels.
Even after Kurt settled on some reality show with women screaming at each other about clothes, Puck couldn’t quite stop the warm feeling in his chest at Kurt’s words.
~*~
“Blaine kissed me.”
Those were not the first words Puck expected to hear when he called Kurt to rib him about how badly they were going to whoop Warbler ass in a few days.
"He what?"
"He kissed me." Kurt sounded frazzled. "I don't really know. Pavarotti died and I was singing and then he's talking about how I moved him or something and he kissed me."
"Wait, who died?"
"Pavarotti, the bird I've been taking care of for my Warbler initiation or whatever it is."
"Dude, your canary died?"
"Not the important part of the story, Puck."
Puck knew that, but he was hoping he'd misheard or misunderstood or mis-something the rest of it. "So, he kissed you and? What'd you do?"
"He asked if I would consider going out with him."
Silence followed. "And? You said?"
"I said I'd think about it."
Puck felt warm, but not in a good way. More like his blood was on a low-level simmer. "What do you need to think about? The guy’s a douchebag!”
"At least he's offering."
And now it was a full rolling boil. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Kurt took a deep breath. "It means you can’t just kiss me a few times and not really talk about it and expect me to dump my best shot at a normal high school romance to run into your arms."
"I'm not asking you to," Puck retorted, because no matter what he wanted, he wasn’t going to actually ask.
If he didn't ask, he couldn't be shot down.
"Then what are you saying?" Kurt's voice broke into his thoughts.
It didn't take long for his sidetracked brain to come up with a legitimate reason for Kurt to not date the douchebag. "He's a douchebag!"
"He may have had his bad moments," Kurt admitted, "but he's still the same sweet guy I met on the staircase of the school you sent me to spy on." Puck cringed at the reminder. "I appreciate you looking out for me, but I can make my own mistakes." He sighed. "Now unless you have something else to say..."
"No, I'm good," he huffed.
"Goodbye, Puck." The click sounded final to Puck's ears.
"Bye." He dropped the phone onto his bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Fuck, I never should've sent him to gay Hogwarts."
Part Two