Knowledge
Author: emocezi
Title: Knowledge
Rating: R for the swearing.
Wordcount: 4915
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, nor do I make profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: SO, I'm sorry that this wasn't up last night, but lovelycuddy distracted me with redrobin fic on MSN last night...which will be posted as soon as we finish it.
Anyway, I figure I should warn you guys I got to about halfway through this and just started sobbing...So have some tissues at the ready.
Questions, Answers, Realizations, Ten Years
It was odd waking up in your room with no memory of how you'd got there, Puck thought as he stared up at his ceiling, listening to his mother in the kitchen, yelling at his little sister to finish getting ready.
He wondered why she hadn't come to wake him up yet and lifted an arm to push the blankets away. His chest flared, ribs burning like someone had taken a hammer to them. He let out a low groan, dropping his arm and trying to regulate his breathing, the way he would when he'd taken a hard tackle in football.
“Noah?” His mother pushed open the door, concern on her features. “Burt said to let you stay home today. I'm taking his advice because I've seen your chest when I changed your clothes.” Puck felt himself blushing, he didn't remember the last time his mother had changed him for bed. “What happened?”
“Just...” For the first time in a while the jock had the urge to spill everything that had happened. How he'd started to look at the world differently, how he'd gotten Quinn pregnant, how he wasn't so sure if he was even straight anymore, and it scared him so much he lost his voice.
“Noah?” His mother's voice was quiet for once.
“It's nothing, coach gave us new practice methods.” Puck mumbled, hating that the ache in his chest wasn't totally from the bruises. His mother looked at him fondly, coming into his room to brush a hand over his mohawk.
“Noah, I will always love you no matter what. We're Jewish sweetie, we've been put through the worst things imaginable and we've always come out of it. Whatever you're going through is just another test from God.” Puck wanted to roll his eyes, wanted to pass this off as just another of his mother's crazy Jew rants. But it hurt, thinking that the God his mother always talked about as loving and watching over him since before he'd been born, would do this to him. Make him question himself after making his father leave, and ruining the only chance he might ever have at a family in this stupid town.
“Geez mom, cut me some slack, I'm laid up here and you're bawling all over me.” Puck groaned, trying to play it off as cool. His mother nodded, her expression soft. He could practically hear what she was thinking. He'll come to me when he's ready. It wasn't as if he didn't want to tell her everything, but there were just some things you had to work out for yourself.
XxX XxX
Puck stayed home from school for the next three days, telling his mother he still felt sore to make sure he healed up properly. The first chance he got, he was gonna pound on Blaque, make him eat through a straw for the next couple weeks.
He picked on his sister and learned how to make latkes from scratch, his mother talking about how she had learned this from her father, and he had learned from his mother. Puck had always loved latkes, but it was usually a food eaten around Hanukkah and it was a treat any other time of the year. This time was no different, it was like the time he'd caught Chicken Pox when he was thirteen. When he felt bad, he got latkes, it was tradition and it made him feel loved more then any words could express.
XxX XxX
Puck went to school despite his protests that it was a Friday, and did one more day really make that much of a difference? He cornered Matthews by the bleachers and pounded on him until the kid was missing a couple of teeth. His knuckles had split nearly to the bone, but the ache in them whenever he used his left hand kept him calm throughout the day.
Kurt hadn't been overly friendly, but he hadn't ignored Puck either. He would talk if spoken to, but he didn't go out of his way to make conversation, keeping his answers short and to the point when Puck bugged him during the classes they shared.
XxX XxX
The weekend was strange. Puck would always blow off the offers to hang with his teammates to clean pools for the Lima cougars. No one talked to him about doing something that weekend, and even making sure all the drains of his clients stayed unclogged didn't do anything for him.
Puck loved sex. He wasn't going to deny it. He loved everything about sex. Even down to the sweat and the weird noises and faces people would make when they were coming. But now everything was weird. He'd be fucking someone over the kitchen counter, hand on her spine so he could watch himself fucking her, and then he'd get a flash of what it would be like to have Kurt like this, and he'd either come so hard he saw little black spots, or freak out, finish and get the hell out of there.
It made him irritable and snappish on Monday, going so far as to snap Kurt's fancy green pencil in half when the gleek prodded at him halfway through English for kicking his chair. Kurt's stare could have shown Antarctica a thing or two about subzero temperatures.
Kurt ignored him for the rest of the day, even when he tried to apologize near the end of Spanish.
XxX XxX
FAG.
It had been painted on only two lockers in the entire school.
Puck stared. He'd taken part in painting this word on Kurt's locker many times, laughed it off when Hummel would huff and stomp around and run to the janitor for a rag and solvent. Scrubbing it at it until every last bit of black had been removed.
“It's a bit depressing how they can't think of a better insult.” Kurt remarked, standing just behind him and cocking his head at the paint. “I've always wanted to write 'moronic plebeian bimbo' on Marcus's locker.” Puck couldn't help the laugh at the thought of Marcus Blaque looking at the words and trying to figure out what they meant.
“Why don't you?”
“I enjoy life.” Kurt stated, looking from Puck's locker to his own just down the hall. “Well let's get started.”
“What?”
“Noah, this brand of paint takes about an hour to scrub off, and unless you'd prefer to be here when they lock up the school I suggest you grab a rag.”
XxX XxX
No matter how hard Puck scrubbed the paint wouldn't come off, he'd been at it for at least half an hour, and all he wanted to do was rip off the door and beat someone with it. Kurt was nearly done, his skinny little arms moving up and down in a practiced motion.
Curses turned the air blue as turpentine slid across his split knuckles for the thousandth time and it was the last straw. Puck slammed his good hand into his locker door, it buckled and he punched it again. Then a third time for good measure. He flexed his hand, panting and glaring daggers at the now ruined locker. Fuck everything, he should just leave and deal with this tomorrow. A soft hand touched his arm and he spun to face Kurt who flinched away.
“Sorry...I...Sorry.” Puck grumbled, nostrils flaring as he took in Kurt's hands, red and chapped from the harsh chemicals. He looked away, pissed that Kurt could handle all this shit and he was folding under the pressure like some cheap lawn chair.
“It's fine, go wash your hands.” Puck stared at the gleek until Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Have you gone deaf from the fumes?” The jock shook his head and lifted his hands to scrub his face, Kurt caught his hand before it touched his face. “I get that this sort of thing is hard on you, but if you get turpentine in your eyes it's going to get a whole lot harder.”
“Fine.” Puck mumbled, jerking away from Kurt and storming to the bathroom.
XxX XxX
Puck's locker door had been replaced when he got to school that morning. The surface gleaming, screaming to everyone that something had happened to it the day before. It pissed him off.
Seeing Kurt's hands in English, still red from the harsh chemicals made him seethe. He should have been the one cleaning both of their lockers, it wasn't like his hands weren't already calloused and hard from football and the chemicals from cleaning pools.
Instead he'd punked out like some little bitch, punched his locker and all in front of Hummel who acted like this was a normal occurrence to him. Oh wait, it was, and for reasons he couldn't even attempt to put into words it made him furious. Pissed him off that Kurt had so much experience on getting graffiti off his locker he had a routine.
XxX XxX
Every time he caught site of Kurt's hands, lifting a pencil to his lips, picking lint off his sweater, gesturing as he talked, he wanted to punch something. Everything was confusing, like up had become down, water had become air and he was falling and drowning and didn't how to stop it.
He should have just stayed away from Kurt, stayed in the light where he could ignore everything that happened in the dark. But he'd wandered over to somewhere lit in shadows and now he couldn't go back, and fuck if that fucking metaphor didn't make him want to bash his head in on something.
XxX XxX
The guys left him alone after he'd pounded on Matthews, left him in intensive care for a week. But Puck had never felt more alone, football practice was hell, and once it was over he left, didn't shower, didn't change out of his uniform. Just wanted to get out of there, and it was weird, having something he'd loved becoming something he just wanted to be over.
XxX XxX
Everyone in Glee has stayed late for an extra rehearsal one Friday, and the school was empty when they left the classroom. Puck grabbing his backpack and heading out to leave when Kurt's unmistakable voice caught his attention.
“aaaaand the dreams that you dare to dream really doo come truuuuue. Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behiiiiind meee.” It was coming from the music room, echoing down the empty halls in a way that gave Puck chills. Kurt's voice higher then he'd ever heard it before. “Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops, that's wheeeere you'll fiiiiiiind meeeeee. Somewheeeere ooooover the raiiiinbow bluuuuebirds flyyyy. Biiiirds flyyyyy over the raiiiiinbow why than, oh why caaaan't...Noah.” Kurt stopped, and Puck found himself dissapointed.
“Keep going.”
“It's not a song I sing in public.” Kurt said simply, sliding his messenger bag onto his shoulder and brushed past the jock. But once he had passed Puck he lifted his voice and sang as he walked away.
“Sooooomewheeeere over the raiiiinboooow, skiiies are bluuuue, aaaaand the dreams that you daaaare to dream really dooooo come truuuuueeee.” His voice faded out as he left the school, Puck leaning against the music room door, his mind quiet for the first time in a while.
XxX XxX
“What were you singing?” Puck asked in English the next morning. Kurt shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation topic.
“It was my mothers favorite song.”
“Oh.” He'd never really heard Kurt talk about her. “What hap-”
“It's really none of your business Noah, and I don't feel comfortable talking about it.” Was the response, gentle enough to let Puck know Kurt wasn't mad at him, and harsh enough to let him know to drop the conversation.
“It's a really nice song.”
“Thank you.”
XxX XxX
Everything continued normally for a week. Puck skipping a couple of football practices until Coach Tanaka had told him that if he skipped anymore he'd be off the team. He had no idea what to do. He loved football, but he couldn't stand playing with his teammates. They treated him like a leper, made jokes when they knew he could hear them, shot him weird glances.
Only Finn stayed by his side. Stupid, idiot, caring, the-best-friend-he'd-ever-had Finn. And for once Puck was glad Quinn had decided to keep his secret, if she told and Finn left...he wasn't sure he could do it.
Sure, he couldn't talk to Finn about anything major, like what he was feeling for Kurt. He'd tried once, saying something about how weird it was to think about a guy the way you'd think about a chick and Finn had made this face like Puck had told him he was going to cut off his nuts. That one had hurt a little more then he'd like to think about.
Friends were supposed to be there for you no matter what. And yeah, he'd knocked Quinn up, but they'd both been drunk at the time and it was a mistake. But the jock knew his friend wouldn't see it like that.
So after months of holding everything in with no one to turn to, it was shock and surprise wrapped up in a ball of relief when Mr. Schue kept him after class, sitting down on his piano bench and asking what was wrong.
“Nothing's wrong. I've just got a lot on my plate.”
“Puck, that's the biggest load of bull I've heard this month. You haven't been yourself lately, what's going on with you? Coach came to me the other day and told me you were thinking of quitting the team. That doesn't sound like you.” Puck opened his mouth to deny it, and instead found himself the unwilling recipient of word vomit.
It poured out of him, everything starting with Kurt months before and ending with Kurt dealing with the lockers better then he had, the song he'd been singing, the way it had quieted Puck's thoughts and made him think everything might just turn out okay.
Mr, Schue had looked shell shocked when he finished, probably thinking Puck was worried about something stupid and average, like what shirt he should wear for school tomorrow, or what college he should try to get into.
“Well...Puck. That's....that's something.” Mr. Schue cleared his throat, clearly flustered and searching his repertoire for something smart to say that would make all this go away. Puck just shrugged, feeling stupid for spilling his guts to someone who didn't have the slightest clue of what to say.
“Have you tried talking to him about it?”
“Who? Hummel?” Puck snorted humorlessly. “Why?”
“Because I think he'd be better to talk to then someone like me. He knows more about this...thing you're going through then I do.” Mr. Schue smiled, acting like he didn't just suggest Puck talk to Kurt about maybe being gay. The jock mumbled something about maybe doing that and left the class as fast as he could, his mind moving a mile a minute.
XxX XxX
He ended up outside Kurt's house, five o'clock at night, dusk just settling in. Puck raised his hand to knock, backing off five times before the door opened and Puck was left staring at Mr. Hummel who was watching him with a mixture of amusement and wariness.
“Yeah?”
“Uhhhhh.” Puck had no idea how to word this.
“Dad.....go away.” Kurt shoved his father away from the door, looking at Puck with the same amusement and wariness his father had. “What?”
“Can I...come in?” Puck asked, feeling like the biggest moron on the face of the earth when Kurt shrugged and turned away, leaving the door open. He'd been in this house several times already and yet this time felt different.
“What brings you to my humble abode at five o'clock on a Thursday?” Kurt asked, milk pale legs showcased in shorts, and Puck was distracted by the shape of them. Kurt was skinny, but it was a slender skinny as opposed to a diet skinny.
“I...I was talking to Mr. Schuester and...” Puck rubbed his hands on his pants, palms having gone clammy. Dancing in front of an opposing team had nothing on this, finding out Quinn was pregnant was a fraction only. This was something new that Puck has never experienced before. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and everything went woozy for a moment. The next thing he knew he was sitting on a chair, Kurt's worried face all he could see.
“Have you eaten today? Are you allergic to anything? Have you been sleeping well?”
“Jesus Kurt, give the boy some breathing room.” Mr. Hummel grumbled from the kitchen where he was rooting around in the fridge.
“I-I-I...” Puck stuttered, hating that he was shaking, tiny little trembles that went straight down to his bones. There was instant understanding in Kurt's eyes. He grabbed Puck's arm, pulling him up from the chair and heading to the basement door, Burt turning and watching with narrowed eyes.
“Anything you boys wanna talk about, you can talk about here.”
“No offense Dad, but the last time I asked you for advice involving boys you turned a particularly interesting shade of burgandy. I thought you were having a stroke.” Kurt said, a gentle sneer in his voice as he opened the door, pushing Puck ahead of him.
XxX XxX
Puck sat, staring at nothing for the better part of ten minutes, Kurt saying nothing, the fact that he was there and he understood without Puck having to say anything was an intense relief. He wasn't sure how to even put anything into words.
“You know, it's okay.” Kurt said after a while. “I mean, obviously not in a town like this. But it's not the worst thing that could ever happen to you.”
“Shut up Hummel.” Puck snarked, but his heart wasn't into it. Kurt reached out and playfully shoved at his shoulder. Several moment passed by before Puck retaliated, digging a finger slyly into Kurt's ribs. The gleek jumped off the couch, squeaking and covering his sides with his hands.
“DON'T!!”
“Okay, okay I won't.” Puck raised his hands, looking innocent. Kurt eyed him suspiciously as he slowly sat back down. They sat in silence for a few more moments, staring at anything but each other.
“So...” Puck began, not sure what he even wanted to ask.
“If the next words out of your mouth are 'wanna make out' I will sic my father on you.” Kurt said primly and Puck snorted.
“As if Hummel.” But now....thinking about it. Fuck. “So um...” He shifted uncomfortably, staring at his sock feet.
“Are you normally this articulate?” Puck glanced over at Kurt's smug amused face and couldn't stop the blush that burned hot under his skin. Was he really that easy to read?
“Shut up Hummel.”
“Oh for the sake of Pete.” Pale smooth hands grabbed his shirt, dragging him half way across the couch. “Yes or no?” Puck could only nod, eyes huge at his side of Kurt, this aggressiveness that he'd never thought to be in the boy.
It was soft, just a rub of lip on lip and then Kurt had pushed Puck back to a sitting position. But he'd kissed Kurt Hummel...well technically Kurt had kissed him.
“There, you didn't die, you didn't burst into unrighteous flames.” The gleek sounded so put upon, like it had been such a hard thing to kiss Noah Puckerman. “Now that' we've given the elephant a name, what's wrong?”
“What elephant?” Kurt stared at him, then rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like why me.
“It's a phrase, if there's an elephant in the room give it a name.”
“Oh...what's the elephants name then?” Puck raised his eyebrows innocently and Kurt glared, realizing that Puck really wasn't that stupid.
“You boys want something to eat?” Mr. Hummel called from upstairs and Kurt started to giggle, his face in his hands as the fact that he'd kissed Noah Puckerman in his basement with his father all suspicious and lurking around just upstairs.
XxX XxX
So....that was new. Puck thought as he stared up at his ceiling. He kept playing it over in his head, Kurt grabbing him and brushing a feather soft kiss on his mouth. His brain had blanked out a little, so he didn't remember any little details, like how Kurt smelled, or if he'd been wearing any lip gloss.
He shifted uncomfortably. What was he supposed to do now? Was Kurt gonna act like they were going out now? Would he have to like, open doors and carry his books to class and shit now? Cause he was pretty sure he couldn't do it. He'd never done it for any of the girls he'd dated, so why the hell would he do it for Kurt.
His thoughts kept drifting in an unstable pattern until he fell asleep, a scowl still on his features.
XxX XxX
Kurt didn't treat him any differently, no shy glances, no little blushes, nothing. It was a little confusing.
“So...about...that elephant thing.” Puck began in Spanish, tapping his pencil against his binder nervously.
“What about it?”
“Nothing, forget about it.” Kurt heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes like the drama queen everyone knew he was. Puck felt his lips twitch at the display. A few seconds later a sheet of paper was pushed in front of him..
You were confused and scared, I've been there. Don't worry about it.
Puck frowned at the note and scribbled something, pushing it back towards Kurt.
So it didn't mean anything to you
He looked over to see Kurt trying to hide a smirk as he scribbled down a reply.
I'm sure it'd difficult for you to believe, but you're not my first kiss.
Who was it
None of your business. Pay attention, Mr. Schuester is starting to look over here.
Seriously, who was it?
I'm not about to tell you in the middle of Spanish class, but yes you do know him.
How well do I know him?
You're like a dog with a bone you know that? Believe it or not there are things out there that you don't need to know.
Puck was about to scribble a reply when the paper was snatched up by Mr. Schuester.
“Passing notes Puck?” He scanned the note, turning bright red when he recognized Kurt's writing and slapped the paper back down on Puck's desk ignoring the snickering from the classroom.
XxX XxX
“Really Mr. Schuester, he's having a hard enough time dealing with this without you shoving him in the spotlight with that little stunt.” Puck could hardly believe his ears, Kurt was yelling at the teacher. He'd been passing by the music room on the way out of class when he'd heard Kurt's voice raised in frustration. Then it was just a simple task of finding a nook to hide in and listen.
“Well, he shouldn't have been passing notes in my class.”
“Do you have any idea what it's like to be gay in a town like this?” There was silence, then Kurt's voice, smug in a mean way. “That's what I thought. Noah needs support from everyone he can get it from right now, and you are not helping.”
“I'm sorry?” The teacher sounded shocked to be apologizing to one of his students.
“I never had anyone to talk to, but I had the benefit of knowing who I was. Noah, he's just been shoved into this and it's the most terrifying thing you could ever imagine. Why don't you attempt to help next time, rather then trying to come across as some hip, cool teacher.”
“Kurt, listen.”
“No you listen. If he came to you with his problems, what would you say? What could you say? You know nothing.”
“He did come to me Kurt.”
“Let me guess, you sat there with a slack jawed expression, trying to think of something smart to say?” It was the closest to snarling Puck had ever heard from Kurt. “We don't need smart, Mr. Schuester.” Apparently Kurt was finished dressing down the teacher, he stormed out of the classroom and stopped, turning bright red when he nearly ran into Puck, who was staring at him.
“Dude.”
“What?” Kurt snapped, brushing his bangs away from his forehead in a praticed motion.
“You just...to Mr. Schue.”
“Yes well...someone needed to.” Kurt turned to walk down the hall to his car, then turned back. “Well, are you coming?”
“Uh...sure.” This was new.
XxX XxX
“Just talk, I don't care about what. It's important to get these sort of things off your chest, they have a nasty habit of poisoning you if you leave them.” They were in the Hummel's kitchen, Puck feeding little bits of the sandwiches Kurt had made to Hades who, by the sounds of it was very appreciative.
“I've got nothing to say.”
“Fine, if you're going to be this difficult I'll start.” Kurt looked at his hands for a moment, and when he looked back up his face was hard with anger. “I hate that no matter what I do no one will ever take me seriously. I hate picking day old spaghetti out of my hair on Friday nights, and I hate having to take an hour out of my day to take hateful insults off of my locker.”
“I....” He tried to think of something cool to say, something that wouldn't make him sound like a whiny little bitch. “I hate the way people look at me. Like they can see inside my head and they know all my secrets. I feel like pounding skulls until I can't feel my hands anymore.”
“Good, that's a normal feeling. You need an outlet for this.”
“What do you mean?”
“On really bad days, I dance it off. You, we should get you into boxing. There's a guy that comes into the garage all the time to talk with my father about stupid men things. He owns a gym in town, it's kind of sketchy and not a lot of people know it's here.” That was a cool thought, Noah Puckerman...middleweight champion.
“Awesome.”
“How did I know you were gonna say that? Okay, go again.”
“I...” Again, how to not sound like a girl bitching about her boyfriend. “When they wrote on my locker.”
“I hate to say this, but get used to it.” Kurt said softly and Puck's hands tightened, all that helpless rage burning to the surface.
“WHY? WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO GET USED TO IT!?!?! I'M STILL THE SAME DUDE I WAS YESTERDAY!”
“I know. People are afraid of what they can't understand.” Kurt said softly, looking at his hands.
“Dammit. I should have cleaned off the lockers, it's not like I'm not used to chemical burns.” Puck mumbled, hating that he felt like such a girl admitting that.
“Noah. I am not a girl.”
“I know.”
“I don't think you do. I'm not fragile, or delicate. I'm not a flower with little petals that you can bruise and leave to die on your counter.”
“Dude.”
“Do not dude me Noah Puckerman when I am trying to make a point.” Kurt snapped. “You all think I'm this quaint little thing that sits at home and cries when you throw me in the dumpster, or write nasty things on my locker.” The gleek took a breath. “And you still need to apologize for the last time you wrote on my locker.”
“I....I'm sorry.”
“Do I look like you're mother? Like you mean it.”
“I..shit. I'm sorry I was such an asshole. And you should probably just ditch me and make me learn everything the hard way. Fuck, I'm just a Lima loser and I'm always gonna be a Lima loser, except now-”
“NOAH PUCKERMAN!” Puck stopped, gaping at the uninhibited rage on Kurt's face. “IF THERE IS ONE RULE I ALWAYS FOLLOW, IT'S THAT YOU NEVER PUT YOURSELF DOWN!!” Puck nodded, eyes wide and voice gone. “You have two hundred people willing to put you down at any moment of any day. You don't need to add yourself to that equation. And who called you a Lima loser anyway?”
“...Quinn.”
“Is it because you got her pregnant?”
“How....How did you know that?”
“People don't notice me Noah, when they have important conversations with their best friends sitting next to me in Glee, they don't think that I might be listening in.” Kurt said with an eye roll. “And Quinn, is a vicious bitch that's getting what coming to her.”
“I thought you liked Quinn.” Puck had seen Kurt hanging around the cheerleaders multiple times.
“HA. She likes my VISA, my car, and my fashion sense, but don't for one second think she like me.” Kurt snapped. “People will never like you for you, they like you for what you can give them, Noah. Nothing more.”
XxX XxX
Next
Title: Knowledge
Rating: R for the swearing.
Wordcount: 4915
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, nor do I make profit from this work of fiction.
A/N: SO, I'm sorry that this wasn't up last night, but lovelycuddy distracted me with redrobin fic on MSN last night...which will be posted as soon as we finish it.
Anyway, I figure I should warn you guys I got to about halfway through this and just started sobbing...So have some tissues at the ready.
Questions, Answers, Realizations, Ten Years
It was odd waking up in your room with no memory of how you'd got there, Puck thought as he stared up at his ceiling, listening to his mother in the kitchen, yelling at his little sister to finish getting ready.
He wondered why she hadn't come to wake him up yet and lifted an arm to push the blankets away. His chest flared, ribs burning like someone had taken a hammer to them. He let out a low groan, dropping his arm and trying to regulate his breathing, the way he would when he'd taken a hard tackle in football.
“Noah?” His mother pushed open the door, concern on her features. “Burt said to let you stay home today. I'm taking his advice because I've seen your chest when I changed your clothes.” Puck felt himself blushing, he didn't remember the last time his mother had changed him for bed. “What happened?”
“Just...” For the first time in a while the jock had the urge to spill everything that had happened. How he'd started to look at the world differently, how he'd gotten Quinn pregnant, how he wasn't so sure if he was even straight anymore, and it scared him so much he lost his voice.
“Noah?” His mother's voice was quiet for once.
“It's nothing, coach gave us new practice methods.” Puck mumbled, hating that the ache in his chest wasn't totally from the bruises. His mother looked at him fondly, coming into his room to brush a hand over his mohawk.
“Noah, I will always love you no matter what. We're Jewish sweetie, we've been put through the worst things imaginable and we've always come out of it. Whatever you're going through is just another test from God.” Puck wanted to roll his eyes, wanted to pass this off as just another of his mother's crazy Jew rants. But it hurt, thinking that the God his mother always talked about as loving and watching over him since before he'd been born, would do this to him. Make him question himself after making his father leave, and ruining the only chance he might ever have at a family in this stupid town.
“Geez mom, cut me some slack, I'm laid up here and you're bawling all over me.” Puck groaned, trying to play it off as cool. His mother nodded, her expression soft. He could practically hear what she was thinking. He'll come to me when he's ready. It wasn't as if he didn't want to tell her everything, but there were just some things you had to work out for yourself.
XxX XxX
Puck stayed home from school for the next three days, telling his mother he still felt sore to make sure he healed up properly. The first chance he got, he was gonna pound on Blaque, make him eat through a straw for the next couple weeks.
He picked on his sister and learned how to make latkes from scratch, his mother talking about how she had learned this from her father, and he had learned from his mother. Puck had always loved latkes, but it was usually a food eaten around Hanukkah and it was a treat any other time of the year. This time was no different, it was like the time he'd caught Chicken Pox when he was thirteen. When he felt bad, he got latkes, it was tradition and it made him feel loved more then any words could express.
XxX XxX
Puck went to school despite his protests that it was a Friday, and did one more day really make that much of a difference? He cornered Matthews by the bleachers and pounded on him until the kid was missing a couple of teeth. His knuckles had split nearly to the bone, but the ache in them whenever he used his left hand kept him calm throughout the day.
Kurt hadn't been overly friendly, but he hadn't ignored Puck either. He would talk if spoken to, but he didn't go out of his way to make conversation, keeping his answers short and to the point when Puck bugged him during the classes they shared.
XxX XxX
The weekend was strange. Puck would always blow off the offers to hang with his teammates to clean pools for the Lima cougars. No one talked to him about doing something that weekend, and even making sure all the drains of his clients stayed unclogged didn't do anything for him.
Puck loved sex. He wasn't going to deny it. He loved everything about sex. Even down to the sweat and the weird noises and faces people would make when they were coming. But now everything was weird. He'd be fucking someone over the kitchen counter, hand on her spine so he could watch himself fucking her, and then he'd get a flash of what it would be like to have Kurt like this, and he'd either come so hard he saw little black spots, or freak out, finish and get the hell out of there.
It made him irritable and snappish on Monday, going so far as to snap Kurt's fancy green pencil in half when the gleek prodded at him halfway through English for kicking his chair. Kurt's stare could have shown Antarctica a thing or two about subzero temperatures.
Kurt ignored him for the rest of the day, even when he tried to apologize near the end of Spanish.
XxX XxX
FAG.
It had been painted on only two lockers in the entire school.
Puck stared. He'd taken part in painting this word on Kurt's locker many times, laughed it off when Hummel would huff and stomp around and run to the janitor for a rag and solvent. Scrubbing it at it until every last bit of black had been removed.
“It's a bit depressing how they can't think of a better insult.” Kurt remarked, standing just behind him and cocking his head at the paint. “I've always wanted to write 'moronic plebeian bimbo' on Marcus's locker.” Puck couldn't help the laugh at the thought of Marcus Blaque looking at the words and trying to figure out what they meant.
“Why don't you?”
“I enjoy life.” Kurt stated, looking from Puck's locker to his own just down the hall. “Well let's get started.”
“What?”
“Noah, this brand of paint takes about an hour to scrub off, and unless you'd prefer to be here when they lock up the school I suggest you grab a rag.”
XxX XxX
No matter how hard Puck scrubbed the paint wouldn't come off, he'd been at it for at least half an hour, and all he wanted to do was rip off the door and beat someone with it. Kurt was nearly done, his skinny little arms moving up and down in a practiced motion.
Curses turned the air blue as turpentine slid across his split knuckles for the thousandth time and it was the last straw. Puck slammed his good hand into his locker door, it buckled and he punched it again. Then a third time for good measure. He flexed his hand, panting and glaring daggers at the now ruined locker. Fuck everything, he should just leave and deal with this tomorrow. A soft hand touched his arm and he spun to face Kurt who flinched away.
“Sorry...I...Sorry.” Puck grumbled, nostrils flaring as he took in Kurt's hands, red and chapped from the harsh chemicals. He looked away, pissed that Kurt could handle all this shit and he was folding under the pressure like some cheap lawn chair.
“It's fine, go wash your hands.” Puck stared at the gleek until Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Have you gone deaf from the fumes?” The jock shook his head and lifted his hands to scrub his face, Kurt caught his hand before it touched his face. “I get that this sort of thing is hard on you, but if you get turpentine in your eyes it's going to get a whole lot harder.”
“Fine.” Puck mumbled, jerking away from Kurt and storming to the bathroom.
XxX XxX
Puck's locker door had been replaced when he got to school that morning. The surface gleaming, screaming to everyone that something had happened to it the day before. It pissed him off.
Seeing Kurt's hands in English, still red from the harsh chemicals made him seethe. He should have been the one cleaning both of their lockers, it wasn't like his hands weren't already calloused and hard from football and the chemicals from cleaning pools.
Instead he'd punked out like some little bitch, punched his locker and all in front of Hummel who acted like this was a normal occurrence to him. Oh wait, it was, and for reasons he couldn't even attempt to put into words it made him furious. Pissed him off that Kurt had so much experience on getting graffiti off his locker he had a routine.
XxX XxX
Every time he caught site of Kurt's hands, lifting a pencil to his lips, picking lint off his sweater, gesturing as he talked, he wanted to punch something. Everything was confusing, like up had become down, water had become air and he was falling and drowning and didn't how to stop it.
He should have just stayed away from Kurt, stayed in the light where he could ignore everything that happened in the dark. But he'd wandered over to somewhere lit in shadows and now he couldn't go back, and fuck if that fucking metaphor didn't make him want to bash his head in on something.
XxX XxX
The guys left him alone after he'd pounded on Matthews, left him in intensive care for a week. But Puck had never felt more alone, football practice was hell, and once it was over he left, didn't shower, didn't change out of his uniform. Just wanted to get out of there, and it was weird, having something he'd loved becoming something he just wanted to be over.
XxX XxX
Everyone in Glee has stayed late for an extra rehearsal one Friday, and the school was empty when they left the classroom. Puck grabbing his backpack and heading out to leave when Kurt's unmistakable voice caught his attention.
“aaaaand the dreams that you dare to dream really doo come truuuuue. Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behiiiiind meee.” It was coming from the music room, echoing down the empty halls in a way that gave Puck chills. Kurt's voice higher then he'd ever heard it before. “Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops, that's wheeeere you'll fiiiiiiind meeeeee. Somewheeeere ooooover the raiiiinbow bluuuuebirds flyyyy. Biiiirds flyyyyy over the raiiiiinbow why than, oh why caaaan't...Noah.” Kurt stopped, and Puck found himself dissapointed.
“Keep going.”
“It's not a song I sing in public.” Kurt said simply, sliding his messenger bag onto his shoulder and brushed past the jock. But once he had passed Puck he lifted his voice and sang as he walked away.
“Sooooomewheeeere over the raiiiinboooow, skiiies are bluuuue, aaaaand the dreams that you daaaare to dream really dooooo come truuuuueeee.” His voice faded out as he left the school, Puck leaning against the music room door, his mind quiet for the first time in a while.
XxX XxX
“What were you singing?” Puck asked in English the next morning. Kurt shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation topic.
“It was my mothers favorite song.”
“Oh.” He'd never really heard Kurt talk about her. “What hap-”
“It's really none of your business Noah, and I don't feel comfortable talking about it.” Was the response, gentle enough to let Puck know Kurt wasn't mad at him, and harsh enough to let him know to drop the conversation.
“It's a really nice song.”
“Thank you.”
XxX XxX
Everything continued normally for a week. Puck skipping a couple of football practices until Coach Tanaka had told him that if he skipped anymore he'd be off the team. He had no idea what to do. He loved football, but he couldn't stand playing with his teammates. They treated him like a leper, made jokes when they knew he could hear them, shot him weird glances.
Only Finn stayed by his side. Stupid, idiot, caring, the-best-friend-he'd-ever-had Finn. And for once Puck was glad Quinn had decided to keep his secret, if she told and Finn left...he wasn't sure he could do it.
Sure, he couldn't talk to Finn about anything major, like what he was feeling for Kurt. He'd tried once, saying something about how weird it was to think about a guy the way you'd think about a chick and Finn had made this face like Puck had told him he was going to cut off his nuts. That one had hurt a little more then he'd like to think about.
Friends were supposed to be there for you no matter what. And yeah, he'd knocked Quinn up, but they'd both been drunk at the time and it was a mistake. But the jock knew his friend wouldn't see it like that.
So after months of holding everything in with no one to turn to, it was shock and surprise wrapped up in a ball of relief when Mr. Schue kept him after class, sitting down on his piano bench and asking what was wrong.
“Nothing's wrong. I've just got a lot on my plate.”
“Puck, that's the biggest load of bull I've heard this month. You haven't been yourself lately, what's going on with you? Coach came to me the other day and told me you were thinking of quitting the team. That doesn't sound like you.” Puck opened his mouth to deny it, and instead found himself the unwilling recipient of word vomit.
It poured out of him, everything starting with Kurt months before and ending with Kurt dealing with the lockers better then he had, the song he'd been singing, the way it had quieted Puck's thoughts and made him think everything might just turn out okay.
Mr, Schue had looked shell shocked when he finished, probably thinking Puck was worried about something stupid and average, like what shirt he should wear for school tomorrow, or what college he should try to get into.
“Well...Puck. That's....that's something.” Mr. Schue cleared his throat, clearly flustered and searching his repertoire for something smart to say that would make all this go away. Puck just shrugged, feeling stupid for spilling his guts to someone who didn't have the slightest clue of what to say.
“Have you tried talking to him about it?”
“Who? Hummel?” Puck snorted humorlessly. “Why?”
“Because I think he'd be better to talk to then someone like me. He knows more about this...thing you're going through then I do.” Mr. Schue smiled, acting like he didn't just suggest Puck talk to Kurt about maybe being gay. The jock mumbled something about maybe doing that and left the class as fast as he could, his mind moving a mile a minute.
XxX XxX
He ended up outside Kurt's house, five o'clock at night, dusk just settling in. Puck raised his hand to knock, backing off five times before the door opened and Puck was left staring at Mr. Hummel who was watching him with a mixture of amusement and wariness.
“Yeah?”
“Uhhhhh.” Puck had no idea how to word this.
“Dad.....go away.” Kurt shoved his father away from the door, looking at Puck with the same amusement and wariness his father had. “What?”
“Can I...come in?” Puck asked, feeling like the biggest moron on the face of the earth when Kurt shrugged and turned away, leaving the door open. He'd been in this house several times already and yet this time felt different.
“What brings you to my humble abode at five o'clock on a Thursday?” Kurt asked, milk pale legs showcased in shorts, and Puck was distracted by the shape of them. Kurt was skinny, but it was a slender skinny as opposed to a diet skinny.
“I...I was talking to Mr. Schuester and...” Puck rubbed his hands on his pants, palms having gone clammy. Dancing in front of an opposing team had nothing on this, finding out Quinn was pregnant was a fraction only. This was something new that Puck has never experienced before. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, and everything went woozy for a moment. The next thing he knew he was sitting on a chair, Kurt's worried face all he could see.
“Have you eaten today? Are you allergic to anything? Have you been sleeping well?”
“Jesus Kurt, give the boy some breathing room.” Mr. Hummel grumbled from the kitchen where he was rooting around in the fridge.
“I-I-I...” Puck stuttered, hating that he was shaking, tiny little trembles that went straight down to his bones. There was instant understanding in Kurt's eyes. He grabbed Puck's arm, pulling him up from the chair and heading to the basement door, Burt turning and watching with narrowed eyes.
“Anything you boys wanna talk about, you can talk about here.”
“No offense Dad, but the last time I asked you for advice involving boys you turned a particularly interesting shade of burgandy. I thought you were having a stroke.” Kurt said, a gentle sneer in his voice as he opened the door, pushing Puck ahead of him.
XxX XxX
Puck sat, staring at nothing for the better part of ten minutes, Kurt saying nothing, the fact that he was there and he understood without Puck having to say anything was an intense relief. He wasn't sure how to even put anything into words.
“You know, it's okay.” Kurt said after a while. “I mean, obviously not in a town like this. But it's not the worst thing that could ever happen to you.”
“Shut up Hummel.” Puck snarked, but his heart wasn't into it. Kurt reached out and playfully shoved at his shoulder. Several moment passed by before Puck retaliated, digging a finger slyly into Kurt's ribs. The gleek jumped off the couch, squeaking and covering his sides with his hands.
“DON'T!!”
“Okay, okay I won't.” Puck raised his hands, looking innocent. Kurt eyed him suspiciously as he slowly sat back down. They sat in silence for a few more moments, staring at anything but each other.
“So...” Puck began, not sure what he even wanted to ask.
“If the next words out of your mouth are 'wanna make out' I will sic my father on you.” Kurt said primly and Puck snorted.
“As if Hummel.” But now....thinking about it. Fuck. “So um...” He shifted uncomfortably, staring at his sock feet.
“Are you normally this articulate?” Puck glanced over at Kurt's smug amused face and couldn't stop the blush that burned hot under his skin. Was he really that easy to read?
“Shut up Hummel.”
“Oh for the sake of Pete.” Pale smooth hands grabbed his shirt, dragging him half way across the couch. “Yes or no?” Puck could only nod, eyes huge at his side of Kurt, this aggressiveness that he'd never thought to be in the boy.
It was soft, just a rub of lip on lip and then Kurt had pushed Puck back to a sitting position. But he'd kissed Kurt Hummel...well technically Kurt had kissed him.
“There, you didn't die, you didn't burst into unrighteous flames.” The gleek sounded so put upon, like it had been such a hard thing to kiss Noah Puckerman. “Now that' we've given the elephant a name, what's wrong?”
“What elephant?” Kurt stared at him, then rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like why me.
“It's a phrase, if there's an elephant in the room give it a name.”
“Oh...what's the elephants name then?” Puck raised his eyebrows innocently and Kurt glared, realizing that Puck really wasn't that stupid.
“You boys want something to eat?” Mr. Hummel called from upstairs and Kurt started to giggle, his face in his hands as the fact that he'd kissed Noah Puckerman in his basement with his father all suspicious and lurking around just upstairs.
XxX XxX
So....that was new. Puck thought as he stared up at his ceiling. He kept playing it over in his head, Kurt grabbing him and brushing a feather soft kiss on his mouth. His brain had blanked out a little, so he didn't remember any little details, like how Kurt smelled, or if he'd been wearing any lip gloss.
He shifted uncomfortably. What was he supposed to do now? Was Kurt gonna act like they were going out now? Would he have to like, open doors and carry his books to class and shit now? Cause he was pretty sure he couldn't do it. He'd never done it for any of the girls he'd dated, so why the hell would he do it for Kurt.
His thoughts kept drifting in an unstable pattern until he fell asleep, a scowl still on his features.
XxX XxX
Kurt didn't treat him any differently, no shy glances, no little blushes, nothing. It was a little confusing.
“So...about...that elephant thing.” Puck began in Spanish, tapping his pencil against his binder nervously.
“What about it?”
“Nothing, forget about it.” Kurt heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes like the drama queen everyone knew he was. Puck felt his lips twitch at the display. A few seconds later a sheet of paper was pushed in front of him..
You were confused and scared, I've been there. Don't worry about it.
Puck frowned at the note and scribbled something, pushing it back towards Kurt.
So it didn't mean anything to you
He looked over to see Kurt trying to hide a smirk as he scribbled down a reply.
I'm sure it'd difficult for you to believe, but you're not my first kiss.
Who was it
None of your business. Pay attention, Mr. Schuester is starting to look over here.
Seriously, who was it?
I'm not about to tell you in the middle of Spanish class, but yes you do know him.
How well do I know him?
You're like a dog with a bone you know that? Believe it or not there are things out there that you don't need to know.
Puck was about to scribble a reply when the paper was snatched up by Mr. Schuester.
“Passing notes Puck?” He scanned the note, turning bright red when he recognized Kurt's writing and slapped the paper back down on Puck's desk ignoring the snickering from the classroom.
XxX XxX
“Really Mr. Schuester, he's having a hard enough time dealing with this without you shoving him in the spotlight with that little stunt.” Puck could hardly believe his ears, Kurt was yelling at the teacher. He'd been passing by the music room on the way out of class when he'd heard Kurt's voice raised in frustration. Then it was just a simple task of finding a nook to hide in and listen.
“Well, he shouldn't have been passing notes in my class.”
“Do you have any idea what it's like to be gay in a town like this?” There was silence, then Kurt's voice, smug in a mean way. “That's what I thought. Noah needs support from everyone he can get it from right now, and you are not helping.”
“I'm sorry?” The teacher sounded shocked to be apologizing to one of his students.
“I never had anyone to talk to, but I had the benefit of knowing who I was. Noah, he's just been shoved into this and it's the most terrifying thing you could ever imagine. Why don't you attempt to help next time, rather then trying to come across as some hip, cool teacher.”
“Kurt, listen.”
“No you listen. If he came to you with his problems, what would you say? What could you say? You know nothing.”
“He did come to me Kurt.”
“Let me guess, you sat there with a slack jawed expression, trying to think of something smart to say?” It was the closest to snarling Puck had ever heard from Kurt. “We don't need smart, Mr. Schuester.” Apparently Kurt was finished dressing down the teacher, he stormed out of the classroom and stopped, turning bright red when he nearly ran into Puck, who was staring at him.
“Dude.”
“What?” Kurt snapped, brushing his bangs away from his forehead in a praticed motion.
“You just...to Mr. Schue.”
“Yes well...someone needed to.” Kurt turned to walk down the hall to his car, then turned back. “Well, are you coming?”
“Uh...sure.” This was new.
XxX XxX
“Just talk, I don't care about what. It's important to get these sort of things off your chest, they have a nasty habit of poisoning you if you leave them.” They were in the Hummel's kitchen, Puck feeding little bits of the sandwiches Kurt had made to Hades who, by the sounds of it was very appreciative.
“I've got nothing to say.”
“Fine, if you're going to be this difficult I'll start.” Kurt looked at his hands for a moment, and when he looked back up his face was hard with anger. “I hate that no matter what I do no one will ever take me seriously. I hate picking day old spaghetti out of my hair on Friday nights, and I hate having to take an hour out of my day to take hateful insults off of my locker.”
“I....” He tried to think of something cool to say, something that wouldn't make him sound like a whiny little bitch. “I hate the way people look at me. Like they can see inside my head and they know all my secrets. I feel like pounding skulls until I can't feel my hands anymore.”
“Good, that's a normal feeling. You need an outlet for this.”
“What do you mean?”
“On really bad days, I dance it off. You, we should get you into boxing. There's a guy that comes into the garage all the time to talk with my father about stupid men things. He owns a gym in town, it's kind of sketchy and not a lot of people know it's here.” That was a cool thought, Noah Puckerman...middleweight champion.
“Awesome.”
“How did I know you were gonna say that? Okay, go again.”
“I...” Again, how to not sound like a girl bitching about her boyfriend. “When they wrote on my locker.”
“I hate to say this, but get used to it.” Kurt said softly and Puck's hands tightened, all that helpless rage burning to the surface.
“WHY? WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO GET USED TO IT!?!?! I'M STILL THE SAME DUDE I WAS YESTERDAY!”
“I know. People are afraid of what they can't understand.” Kurt said softly, looking at his hands.
“Dammit. I should have cleaned off the lockers, it's not like I'm not used to chemical burns.” Puck mumbled, hating that he felt like such a girl admitting that.
“Noah. I am not a girl.”
“I know.”
“I don't think you do. I'm not fragile, or delicate. I'm not a flower with little petals that you can bruise and leave to die on your counter.”
“Dude.”
“Do not dude me Noah Puckerman when I am trying to make a point.” Kurt snapped. “You all think I'm this quaint little thing that sits at home and cries when you throw me in the dumpster, or write nasty things on my locker.” The gleek took a breath. “And you still need to apologize for the last time you wrote on my locker.”
“I....I'm sorry.”
“Do I look like you're mother? Like you mean it.”
“I..shit. I'm sorry I was such an asshole. And you should probably just ditch me and make me learn everything the hard way. Fuck, I'm just a Lima loser and I'm always gonna be a Lima loser, except now-”
“NOAH PUCKERMAN!” Puck stopped, gaping at the uninhibited rage on Kurt's face. “IF THERE IS ONE RULE I ALWAYS FOLLOW, IT'S THAT YOU NEVER PUT YOURSELF DOWN!!” Puck nodded, eyes wide and voice gone. “You have two hundred people willing to put you down at any moment of any day. You don't need to add yourself to that equation. And who called you a Lima loser anyway?”
“...Quinn.”
“Is it because you got her pregnant?”
“How....How did you know that?”
“People don't notice me Noah, when they have important conversations with their best friends sitting next to me in Glee, they don't think that I might be listening in.” Kurt said with an eye roll. “And Quinn, is a vicious bitch that's getting what coming to her.”
“I thought you liked Quinn.” Puck had seen Kurt hanging around the cheerleaders multiple times.
“HA. She likes my VISA, my car, and my fashion sense, but don't for one second think she like me.” Kurt snapped. “People will never like you for you, they like you for what you can give them, Noah. Nothing more.”
XxX XxX
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