Fic: Higher Education, 8/?
Title: Higher Education, 8/?
Author: knittycat 99
Rating: R
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt
Genre: Romance/Angst
Warning: AU
Spoilers: Nope
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys, I just make them all emotional and then give them back to Fox
Author Notes: In my world, the whole gang has the same spring break
Summary: The boys go really public with their relationship. And they do other things.
Word Count: 3,502
The space between your heart and mine is the space we'll fill with time . . .
-Dave Matthews Band
Lima, Freshman Spring
Thursday
Puck was so excited he couldn’t stand still. He was waiting at the entrance to baggage claim, bouncing from foot to foot, checking his watch and his phone and jiggling his keys in the pocket of his jeans. His arms were aching to hold Kurt. He’d checked the status of this flight 20 times already, and he knew that it was on time. He also knew that this late at night, the chances of him missing Kurt were nonexistent. There were only two families here to meet people, an older man maybe his mom’s age, and a young couple pushing a sleeping toddler in a stroller. He pulled out his phone, checked for texts (he had none), and opened facebook (again). He hadn’t posted all day, not wanting to jinx Kurt’s safe return home, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He tapped in the “share” box and typed at the airport, waiting for K. He scrolled down his news feed to see that Finn was psyched for break, Rachel had one last rehearsal, then home tomorrow, Quinn was wondering Why am I leaving sunny San Diego for snowy Ohio?, and Santana can’t head home until I finish this bleeping paper. Someone kill me now? By Sunday, the whole gang should be home. Monday, they all had plans for an extended lunch at The Egg to catch up. Puck was, admittedly, a little nervous. It would be the first time he and Kurt would be with their friends as a couple, and Puck knew that long-distance support via social networking and texting didn’t always translate well in person. He checked again for messages, and was about to dial Kurt’s cell when he heard Kurt whisper in his ear: “Did you miss me?”
He turned and gathered Kurt to him. “You have no idea.” Even though Kurt had been in class all day and alternately on the subway, in the airport and on a plane since late afternoon, he looked put-together. He had his pea coat slung over one arm and his messenger bag over his chest. He also had an expression of pure bliss on his face.
“I knew I missed you,” he told Puck, “but I had no idea how much I ached for you until just now.”
“I know. I can breathe now.” God, it killed him to admit that, to admit that he needed Kurt not just in his life but physically close. In his mind, that implied a neediness that made him uncomfortable. Then again, he’d always made his own way in the world, and the entire idea needing anything from anyone was kind of foreign. Crap. This was supposed to be a great night. His boy was home. He leaned in and touched his lips to Kurt’s gently, but instead of kissing him back, Kurt stiffened and pushed him away. He glanced in panic around the nearly-empty baggage claim.
“Don’t do that here,” he hissed under his breath. “You have no idea what people might say or think.”
“I don’t care. I told you, I’m not ashamed of loving you.”
“This has nothing to do with shame and everything to do with not getting our asses kicked, or told we’re going to hell, or any number of scenarios that end in a million bad ways.”
“Whoa. Okay.” Puck stepped back, hands up in front of his chest. “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“God, I’m sorry. I forget, sometimes. You’ve never really had to think about things like that. I do it automatically. Sometimes I’m hyper-aware. I didn’t mean to fly off the handle. That said, when we get out to your truck, I can’t wait to do that again. For real.”
Puck actually felt himself blushing. His thoughts were interrupted by the incessant buzzing of the baggage carousel. Kurt joined the small group of passengers to wait for his bag, which he grabbed with a flourish when it appeared from the tunnel. He all but grabbed Puck’s hand and dragged him to the parking lot. Kurt was on him before he’d gotten his door fully closed, hands fast and mouth hungry. Puck thought he might come out of his skin with the wanting. But they were in his truck, for fuck’s sake. And he didn’t want the first time to pass in a haze of hormones and frantic emotion. He wanted nothing but sweet time. He wanted it to mean everything, to be everything. He moved slightly, managed to pull away enough to say “slow down.”
Kurt stopped cold, and looked at Puck like he’d slapped him. “There I go, jumping into things, making people uncomfortable. I try so hard . . .”
“No. No. That’s not what I meant. Hold up.” He took a few deep breaths, tried to calm his body and focus his brain. “I just meant that we have time. And I’d rather do this, all of this, in a bed.”
“Oh. Okay.” Kurt rested back against the seat. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“We never even really talked about sex or anything.”
“Well, we have 2 hours ahead of us. It sounds like we have a lot to talk about.”
*****
Kurt was embarrassed. He hated when he overreacted. It was something he’d struggled with his whole life, but he felt like he was better at managing it now. The more confidence he had (actual confidence, not the fake stuff he wore like a mask in high school), the less he tended to jump the gun in emotionally volatile situations. But he was nervous, and that always made it worse. He was excited to see Puck, but he was admittedly scared to death of dealing with the fallout of his decision to be with Puck. His dad had seemed apprehensive on the phone. Finn had kind of been avoiding him. Blaine was jealous (not that he’d admit it, but Kurt was pretty intuitive and could tell that Blaine was still kicking himself for letting Kurt walk away). The only ones who’d been genuinely supportive were Carol and, surprisingly, Quinn (“I’m happy for you both”, she’d told him over the phone, and a companion email told him that she had often wished that Puck could have a genuine connection with somebody. Underneath all the show, he really is a sweet, caring guy. I also know you wouldn’t invest in him if he treated you badly. Take care of your heart, and his. He’s more fragile than anyone knows.)
And now, here he was, feeling like an idiot because once Puck had gotten into the truck, his brain went haywire. Puck had just looked so edible in those damn ripped jeans (so impractical in Ohio in March) and a black t-shirt. And he’d jumped the gun. When Puck asked him to slow down, he was suddenly 15 again, being told that he was bad and wrong for wanting what he wanted. For being who he was. That was also something he struggled with, and something he hid really well.
“Hey, we’re okay. You’re okay.” Puck’s voice was still rough with something (desire, Kurt thought). “There’s nothing wrong with you, or about you.”
“Mind-reader.” Sometimes, Puck’s ability to see all of him scared him.
“I know you, too, K. That’s been the good thing about this distance. We’ve talked through and about a lot of the hard stuff.”
Kurt knew that Puck was right. Just like talking in the dark was easier than talking in the daylight, Kurt also found that talking with Puck during his pre-dawn or dark-of-night commutes between Dayton and Lima was easy. They took turns, talking about the things in their lives that had made them, broken them, and built them back up again. Kurt had told Puck about what the constant bullying had felt like, how it made him doubt his ability to connect with other people. “It was like everyone kept me at a distance. I felt like I was bad. Like people were afraid of me. I know that’s not what was really going on, but when you’re told every day of your formative years that you’re sick or wrong, you internalize it.” But this was the first time Kurt had shown that internalized self-doubt to Puck.
He felt Puck reach his hand out, and he grabbed it. “Don’t be ashamed for letting me see that. I know you’re scared. This, us, it’s kinda scary. It happened really fast. But I’m with you. We’re in this together. Okay?” Puck squeezed his hand.
“Okay.” He kept his hold on Puck’s hand, but turned away slightly so that he could look out the window and watch the miles pass.
“Don’t shut me out, K.” Puck said after the silence grew slightly uncomfortable.
“I’m not.”
“You kinda are.”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Should we go ahead and have that sex talk now?”
Kurt couldn’t do anything but laugh. “Mind in the gutter, much?”
“Um. No. Not really. I just think maybe this is one we need to get out of the way, and not save for a late night phone call.”
Kurt sighed and steeled himself. “Okay.”
*****
“I don’t want to push you too hard,” Kurt told him. “Or rush you.”
“You’re not going to scare me off, don’t worry.”
“But it’s a little scary at first.”
“I’m not a virgin, Kurt.”
“I know that. But I think maybe you’re not prepared for the, um, anatomical differences?”
“I’ve done some reading. And some online . . . viewing.”
“Ah. Those kinds of movies, yes. I remember them well. Let me just tell you that those movies have next to nothing to do with the actual act.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I mean, there’s no emotion in the movies. And it’s the emotion that makes it so wonderful. It’s another way to show someone how you really feel about them. It’s not just doing it because it feels good. The emotions, the feelings, enhance everything that goes on physically.”
“You felt that with Blaine?” He hated that he was jealous of Blaine. It sometimes felt like Blaine would always have a little corner of Kurt’s heart. And it kind of galled him that Blaine had been Kurt’s first.
“Blaine was my first. Because of that, it will always be special. But that will never take away from anything we do. Our first time?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s going to be fantastic.”
“How do you know?”
“Because what I feel for you is deeper and stronger than what I felt for Blaine. We’re older. We’re both pretty secure in ourselves and our relationship. There’s no pressure. We can just let things happen.”
“Okay.”
“And here’s the deal: if things get heated and you start to feel uncomfortable, tell me. Even though you’re not a virgin, it’s okay to feel scared or overwhelmed.”
“You won’t freak out?”
“I promise.”
“Okay.”
“And we have to use condoms. I know you’re not a huge fan-”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you got Quinn pregnant.”
“Point.” Now he felt like an idiot.
“Thank you. It’s a matter of safety. I preach it to the kids at the center all the time, and I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t hold myself to the same standard. I also feel like it’s a sign of self-respect.”
“Like, if we use protection then we both care about ourselves?”
“And each other.”
“That makes sense.”
He let go of Kurt’s hand to rub it across his face. “I really want to, you know.”
“I know. Me, too.”
“But I don’t want it to just be . . . sex, you know?”
“Um, okay.”
“I remember what you told me about your talk with your dad. I want it to matter for you. I want to be worth it.”
“Oh, Noah.” He could hear Kurt’s voice break. “You’re worth it. You are so worth it.”
“So are you.”
*****
Monday
Kurt was just out of the shower when he heard Puck’s truck pull up in front of the house. He toweled off quickly, and busied himself with hair combing and teeth brushing before throwing on a pair of baggy jeans and the red McKinley Football hoodie Puck had left behind the other night. It smelled like him, and it made Kurt feel safe. He was still a little nervous about seeing the New Directions gang, and figured that if a stupid sweatshirt would help him get through lunch, he’d roll with it. Neither the jeans nor the hoodie were things anyone in Lima had ever seen him in, though he had kind of adopted them into his “lazy weekend college boy” wardrobe since going to Boston. He stuck his wallet in his back pocket and grabbed his house keys from the top of his dresser before bounding down the stairs and out the front door. Puck was watching him with hungry eyes through the window of the truck. He loved seeing that kind of a look on Puck’s face directed at him. So much of their relationship to this point had existed in the subtleties of spoken words; he was spending this time together treasuring their shared physical proximity. It was the small intimacies that helped bring home just how real this all was: that Puck didn’t pull away from Kurt’s hand on his hip; that Puck would lean into him, almost unconsciously, whenever they were sitting next to each other; the ease with which Puck would rest a hand on his back to guide him through a door. He climbed up into the passenger side and slid across to greet Puck with a kiss.
*****
Kurt was quiet on the drive to The Egg. Puck could feel Kurt’s nervousness coursing through his leg where it jittered against Puck’s own. He settled his hand on Kurt’s knee. “Relax. They’re our friends. We have nothing to worry about. They love us.”
“That’s just it. They love us, each of us, individually.”
“And?”
“I’m just worried that they won’t love us collectively as a couple, is all. I mean, you’re straight, and here we are, together.”
“So we’re a little different then the last time everyone was together. I’ll bet there’ve been a lot of changes for everyone. College seems to be the time for that.” He signaled and turned into the parking lot, slipping his truck in between Mercedes’ mom’s station wagon and Mike’s vintage Beetle. “Just breathe, and remember that it really doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. If they’re really our friends, they’ll be happy for us.”
“You don’t really believe that.”
“No. I don’t. But one of us has to pretend to be brave, and you have the worst poker face.”
Puck climbed out of the truck and went around to open Kurt’s door for him. He took his hand, and led him into the restaurant, where they were greeted by their friends with smiles and cheers.
The whole meal was kind of a heady experience. Tina and Mike, broken up for over a year, were practically sitting in each other’s laps. Rachel and Quinn were trading stories about their respective sororities. Sam, Finn, and Artie were talking about their brackets for March Madness, and Santana was scrolling through her phone, showing Brittany, Lauren, and Mercedes pictures of her girlfriend, who she had met standing in line for something during freshman orientation. Puck sat next to Kurt, with Kurt’s hand in his under the table, smiling at the chaos. The ice had been broken almost instantly when Santana came over to hug them both. She whispered into Puck’s ear “So, I guess there was more than one reason we never worked out. I’m happy for you. He’s a good guy.”
Kurt leaned over and told him “I forgot what this was like, being with a big group of people who know you. I love my friends in Boston, but there’s so much they don’t know. I never even have to explain to these guys.”
“Yeah. I get that.”
They sat around, talking in various groupings, for the better part of the afternoon until Mercedes stood up and said “I have to get the car back to my mom.” Lauren got up, too, and gestured to Mercedes. “She’s my ride. It’s been real, guys.” Puck heard her whisper to Kurt on her way by him, “Take care of my boy.” Mercedes hugged them both, and said loudly “if anyone messes with you, tell me and I will hurt them.”
The group broke up slowly, making promises to hang out at least once more before everyone had to leave Lima again, and there were more words of support and congratulations than Puck had expected. The only one who seemed a little reticent was Finn, so Puck finally cornered him in the men’s room while Kurt walked Quinn to her car.
“Dude, why can’t you just be happy for us? How hard is that?”
“It’s not that I’m not happy for you. It’s just . . . I know how you are, man, and I don’t want you to break Kurt’s heart.”
“Why is it that nobody gives him any credit?”
“What?”
“He’s so much stronger than any of you realize. He’s not going to break. In fact, he’s more of a man than I think I’ll ever be.”
“It’s just, you don’t do polygamy.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, you can’t commit. You like sleeping around.”
“You mean monogamy.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m all in, dude. I’m not going to hurt him.” He took a deep breath and blurted out something he hadn’t even told Kurt: “I’d walk through fire for him. It feels like I’m dying a little every day we’re apart. If anything, I’m afraid he’s going to break me.” He’d said too much and didn’t know what to do next, so he turned and left, Finn staring after him with water running, ignored, into the sink.
*****
Saturday
Puck didn’t want to wake Kurt up for a commuter phone call while he was on break, so he texted him instead. Pick u up 2nite @ 6:30. Kurt’s reply came in when he was pulling into his driveway. Are we going on a date? An actual date?
Yeah
He hummed at the thought, at his plans, while he fixed himself some breakfast and did his dishes. Upstairs, he stripped off his uniform and fell into bed, and dreamed of Kurt. When he woke mid-afternoon, he puttered around the house doing his laundry and helping Lizzie with her Social Studies homework before taking a shower and getting ready to go out. Black jeans, tight black t-shirt, leather jacket. Cowboy boots. Not too much aftershave.
Kurt was waiting on his front steps when Puck pulled up, and all but ran down the walk and threw himself into the cab. He kissed Puck full on the lips, and snaked his hand up the back of Puck’s neck and into his hair. Puck finally had to pull away, breathless like always. “If you don’t stop doing that, we’re going to miss our reservation.”
Dinner was at the new steakhouse on the edge of town, candlelight and linen napkins, appetizer and dessert. When they got out to the car afterwards, he was surprised hear Kurt say “Let’s go back to my house.”
“But . . .”
“No buts. Nobody’s home, and shouldn’t be for a few hours at least. We have time. Please.”
Oh, crap. He was done for. Kurt’s please practically killed him. All Kurt had to do was ask, and Puck knew he’d give him whatever he wanted.
Kurt left the lights out as he led Puck through the living room, up the stairs, and into his room. He shut the door with a gentle click, lit a single candle on his dresser, and closed the blinds. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous,” he said as he hooked a finger into the waistband of Puck’s jeans and pulled him close.
“Not at all.” Kurt reached up, slid his jacket off his arms and draped it over his desk chair. Then he led Puck over to his bed. “You can stop me if you need to, or want to.”
“I’m fine, K.”
“Okay.” Kurt’s voice was a whisper before Puck pulled him into a kiss. His brain exploded. He lost total track of everything except his breath, the beating of Kurt’s heart under his hand, the warmth of skin on skin. In the barely-there light of the candle, he let go to hands and mouth. There were whispered endearments, Kurt’s gentle voice asking “are you sure you want to do this?” and his own strangled pleas of slow down, no don’t stop, right there, faster, more, pleasepleaseplease. And then he was exploding, breaking into pieces and letting go of the very last of the walls that protected him from the battering hands of the world. He was gone, and he was safe, and he was loved. He was loved. As he lay in Kurt’s arms in the shuddering aftermath he was, finally, home.