Don't Knock The Appeal Of Waffles First Thing In The Morning.
Title: Full-Moon Madness
Author: sazzy_kitten
Rating: NC-17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt, Burt
Genre: Romance/Supernatural
Warning: Smut between two under-aged boys, werewolves, swearing, AU, rimming, bare-backing, swearing.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: If I did, I would've hired Mark Salling and Chris Colfer to be the stars of something that was assuredly not Glee. Although it could probably keep its title, and it could still be a musical... How does that sound? Glee!: The Musical Porn Movie!..... Huh.
Author Notes: An addition to my Creature High story. What happened between Puck and Kurt during the transformation on the full moon.
Summary: Being able to change at will didn't stop full moons from being a literal pain in the ass, and Burt Hummel finding them out didn't make things better.
Word Count: 2650
I
The last thing Burt Hummel expected tonight was frantic knocking at his front door five minutes before he left for a night out with the boys. Even less so did he expect a boy leaning on his door frame, panting and twitching. He recognized him vaguely from the football team and from glee, but he couldn't place a name to the face.
Kurt ran up the stairs, smiling sheepishly at him.
“You didn't tell me you were having anyone over tonight,” Burt said pointedly, looking between his son and the other boy.
“I know,” Kurt said, blushing, “and I'm sorry about that. Can he stay anyways?”
“I don't know,” Burt answered, looking the awkward boy up and down, “What's wrong with him?”
“It's the full moon.” Kurt inched over and slid an arm around his waist, transferring the weight from the door frame and onto himself, twitching when stubble rubbed over his neck. “He's a werewolf; it's just a little hard to cope with the change right now. I help him out every month.”
Burt sighed and rubbed his forehead, fingers slipping under the brim of his hat. “I don't want to know, do I?”
“Probably not, no.” Kurt stared at him hopefully, biting his lip. “Please? You won't be home anyways.”
“Fine,” Burt acquiesced after a moment, shaking his head. “But if I come home to find Mohawk hurt you, I swear...”
“I know dad,” Kurt interjected quickly, shifting him. “And his name is Puck dad. You'll have to get used to him sooner or later.”
Burt's nose wrinkled and under his hat the two round ears flattened. “We'll see about that.”
II
“Come on Puck,” Kurt grunted, slowly leading the panting teen down the stairs. “A little bit more and we can distract you.”
Shoving Puck onto the bed Kurt fetched the bucket of ice he was keeping in the bathroom, fishing out a couple cubes and holding them to his mouth. Puck growled and bit down on them, crunching them and groaning as the cold numbed his aching gums.
Snarling when his body temperature spiked up, Puck tore off his shirt, tearing the thing fabric.
“Cold bath.” Bright gold eyes turned to him, narrow and hazy from the pain of the forced transformation. The pale blue undertone in Kurt's skin was made more apparent by the light and bright white walls that stung his eyes and Puck didn't know exactly how he was able to make such observations every time he was in the middle of the change, but when it came to Kurt, he'd learned to stop questioning it.
Instead he draped his body over Kurt's and let the Siren haul him into the bathroom, remove his pants and underwear, and shove him into the bath tub. The sudden rush of freezing water made him snarl but it helped with the pain, as it always did. Kurt hummed a few soft, soothing notes to calm him, lips brushing the sensitive shell of his ear and sending a jolt of arousal down his spine that distracted him from the pain and left him craving more.
“Now,” Puck growled, lifting his hips so that his tail could form undisturbed by the tub. Consequentially it made his rapidly forming erection jut out too, a sight that Kurt could never resist. Licking his lips and shaking his head Kurt attempted to calm Puck down and re-submerge himself (more for Kurt's sake than his own).
“Noah, you're not finished yet,” Kurt protested, trying to coax the werewolf back into the cool water. Puck surged forward, slamming their lips together and shoving his tongue between the seam of Kurt's lips, standing unsteadily in the tub and pulling Kurt up with him.
“Fuck this,” he huffed, gritting his teeth and tensing as he stumbled out of the bathroom, dragging Kurt behind him. “I need to fuck you.”
Throwing Kurt onto the bed Puck snapped his neck to the side, listening eagerly to his bones crack. He paused to ring out his sopping wet tail because he knew how sensitive Kurt was about his sheets being ruined (he learned that one the hard way), then crawled onto the bed, running his tongue over his aching gums.
“Take of your clothes, or I'll tear them off,” he said, voice lowered by his enlarged larynx. Kurt licked his lips, watching Puck watch the movements of the pink muscle, mouth twitching against the urge to bite and draw blood. He unconsciously mimicked the movement when the layers Kurt was wearing were peeled off slowly, allowing his attention to be drawn to everything that was being exposed. First the bare arms that were more muscular than anyone thought as the cardigan came off, then the pronounced collar bone when the scarf followed, then the smooth chest and toned abdomen.
Unable to help himself Puck lunged forward and pressed an open mouth kiss against the dip of Kurt's belly button, pushing his tongue inside and soaking in Kurt's shuddering gasp.
“Keep going,” he demanded, voice rasping as he pulled away. Kurt's belly shone in the light, wet from his saliva. With shaking hands Kurt unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, wiggling his hips and contorting until they were off, thin pale legs ending up splayed. Breathing in deeply and delighting in the powerful scent of arousal, he fixed his eyes on the growing bulge in Kurt's boxer briefs. “Well?”
Kurt bit his lip and hooked his thumbs under the waist band, tugging them down slowly and revealing inch by pale inch of glorious skin. As he lifted his legs to kick off the fabric, Puck caught a glimpse of his rear and twitched, almost salivating at the prospect of tasting the smaller teen. Another wave of pain hit him as his shoulder blades grew, skin stretching tight over his body.
He flipped Kurt onto his stomach, roughly grabbing a cheek to each hand and spreading them, pushing his face between them. Kurt yelped, instinctively trying to jerk away from the wet sensation spreading over his hole. The muffled growl Puck released when Kurt tried to jerk away at the sudden invasion was enough to still him until he got used to the probing tongue and started moaning and clenching his muscles. Puck wiggled his tongue as he pushed his tongue as far as possible inside Kurt, grabbing the thin hips and moving them, encouraging Kurt to push back.
Working up enough saliva to make the penetration of his finger comfortable, Puck pulled away to dig around the side dresser for the lube, distracting Kurt from the loss with his index finger. Careful of his growing nails Puck pushed the tip inside, twisting his hand as he grabbed the bottle with his free hand, wasting no time in popping the cap and squirting some out. Pulling out his finger Puck took the time to suck and nibble at Kurt's rim one last time before flipping him onto his back.
Kurt groaned low in the back of his throat, legs falling open. Puck brought a hand down between them, lubricated fingers brushing against flushed skin. Puck drew away hastily when Kurt yelped and jerked his body away.
“What?” he asked, holding his hands up by his shoulders and tensing.
“You scratched me,” Kurt huffed, drawing his left leg up to his shoulder and using his fingers to shift his skin so Puck could see the thin red mark on his ass cheek.
“Fuck!” Kurt rolled his eyes and hummed a calming note into Puck's pointed ear.
“I swear, every time we go through this, and every time you forget,” Kurt muttered as he snatched the lube off the bed and coated his hand, reaching down to shove his fingers inside of himself impatiently. Puck watched hungrily as the slender digits disappeared again and again into his boyfriends body, eagerly anticipating the moment that it would be his dick taking their place. Another wave of pain rolled over his, muscles burning as they stretched and grew to accommodate their new placement. With a snarl Puck grabbed Kurt's wrist and jerked it away, forcing the pale knees onto his shoulders and lining his cock up with Kurt's hole.
Whimpering as Puck immediately set into a fast, punishing pace Kurt reached around to massage the skin around the damp tail, stroking its length in time with Puck's hips. The low rumble of the larger teens groan reverberating through his chest and greedy lips attached to his. After one last stroke he was shoved back against the sheets, legs pushed further apart than before and held up in the air as Puck undulated his hips as fast and as hard as he was able to distract himself from another wave of pain.
Given his current state, Kurt's entire ass would be a single dark purple bruise for the next week from the force.
Puck was too far gone to think of aiming for his prostate, or to think of restraining his movements so they bruised less, but Kurt didn't mind. He also didn't mind when Puck came early with a howl, having much less stamina than usual. He simply wait for the werewolf to finish twitching on top of him, passing a gentle hand down the boney spine and singing a reassuring tune into Puck's ear. Ten minutes later Puck was pushing himself shakily off of Kurt and onto his knees, sliding a hand down his torso until he reached the Siren's cock.
“You know you don't have to do that Noah,” Kurt breathed, biting his lip and trying not to let his hips push into the touch. Puck smirked, sweat dripping down his face.
“I swear, every time we go through this, and every time you forget,” he stated, throwing Kurt's words back in his face. Kurt laughed softly and leaned up to kiss him. “I'm not about to leave you hanging, no matter how far gone I am babe, so suck it up and enjoy it.”
“Mm, I think I can do that for you,” Kurt said softly, moaning as Puck worked his hand faster over him, twisting his hand over the head. As he came his back arched off the bed, hips thrusting into the large hand, and Puck's tongue was exploring his mouth. Puck pulled away and lifted his hand.
“How do you think we should clean up this mess?” he asked. When he started licking off the cum without waiting for a response Kurt rolled his eyes affectionately and stretched out on the bed with a content hum. Glancing at the clock he sighed, brushing his hand over Puck's thigh.
“Dad's going to be home soon no doubt.” Puck looked at him, clean hand brushing back a piece of hair from Kurt's forehead.
“Should I leave?”
Kurt took a moment to think about the repercussions of Burt Hummel walking in on them sleeping naked in the same bed and then remembered their little run in when Puck first showed up. “No, you can stay the night I think.”
With a wide, happy grin that showed off his elongated canines Puck shoved Kurt over and bounced into place behind him, spooning him and snuffing his neck as he nuzzled the soft skin. Kurt laughed, trying to wiggle away from the tickling sensation and reached back to slap Puck's hip.
“Watch it Curly-cue!” he huffed indignantly, toying with the curly brown fur of Puck's tail. “Or everyone will see those pictures of you with a jewfro to rival Israel's!”
The tickling stopped as Puck froze, and then a low growl sounded as well as a quiet, “bitch.”
“I'm neither a female, nor a dog,” Kurt pointed out, “so that insult doesn't apply.”
“Still can't believe my mom gave you those photos,” Puck muttered.
“Really?” Kurt asked, turning to raise an eyebrow at him. “You really don't believe your mother would give me black mail material over you?”
“.......Point,” Puck conceded, “but still...”
“You know it doesn't matter Noah. I was just kidding; no one's going to see those pictures unless you do something unforgivable.”
“I know but still.” Puck shuddered. “Just the thought of them getting out makes me queasy.”
“Vomit on me and I'll neuter you,” Kurt threatened, fitting himself more comfortably against Puck's chest and hips, coaxing one leg between his. “Waffles for breakfast?”
“Yes please.”
III
“Morning dad,” Kurt said as Burt stumbled into the kitchen and dropped onto one of the chairs. “Food?”
“Yes please,” Burt mumbled into the wood of the table top, turning his head to watch his son dish out a plate full of homemade waffles with a drizzle of honey and a heaping pile of fresh fruit. He dug in with gusto, only pausing to sip at his coffee and compliment the taste of the fluffy deliciousness (what? It was a good portion of his favourite foods combined in a really well done manner...... No one ever said he was particularly coherent in the mornings).
Not too far into his meal, the door to Kurt's bedroom swung open and the punk from last night stumbled, much in the same manner as him, into the room. He plastered himself against Kurt's back and grumbled unhappily at the general unfairness of life and 10 AM.
“Good morning to you too Noah,” Kurt chuckled, turning in Puck's arms to kiss him. Burt cleared his throat, annoying and loud. Kurt pulled away and rolled his eyes at his father. “How was your sleep?”
“Mmm, so much better when you were there,” Puck muttered, leaning in for another kiss, much to Burt's continued dismay.
“Hey, hey, hey, Mohawk, back off my son!” Puck back peddled, hands up in surrender, and took a seat at the table with his head down.
“Dad!” Kurt cried, exasperated. Burt shot him a look that he returned in full force. “Quit intimidating my boyfriend. Please.”
Kurt waited until Burt backed down and muttered a sour, “fine,” then dished up another two plates and set one (the fuller one) in front of Puck.
“Why aren't you sitting with us?” Burt asked suspiciously as Kurt started cutting neat squares out of his waffles and spearing a single piece of fruit for each bite. Kurt twitched and Puck froze in the process of decimating his meal.
“I'm just a little sore is all.” Bluish-greenish-gray eyes stared at him, hard and relentless ('It's like looking in a god damn mirror...') and demanding him to drop the subject.
Disgruntled and still a little bit angry but not wishing to be on bad terms with his son so early into the weekend, he obeyed and turned back to his food.
He could always corner Mohawk later and scare the story out of him, after all.
“Dad!”
Or not.
Author: sazzy_kitten
Rating: NC-17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt, Burt
Genre: Romance/Supernatural
Warning: Smut between two under-aged boys, werewolves, swearing, AU, rimming, bare-backing, swearing.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: If I did, I would've hired Mark Salling and Chris Colfer to be the stars of something that was assuredly not Glee. Although it could probably keep its title, and it could still be a musical... How does that sound? Glee!: The Musical Porn Movie!..... Huh.
Author Notes: An addition to my Creature High story. What happened between Puck and Kurt during the transformation on the full moon.
Summary: Being able to change at will didn't stop full moons from being a literal pain in the ass, and Burt Hummel finding them out didn't make things better.
Word Count: 2650
I
The last thing Burt Hummel expected tonight was frantic knocking at his front door five minutes before he left for a night out with the boys. Even less so did he expect a boy leaning on his door frame, panting and twitching. He recognized him vaguely from the football team and from glee, but he couldn't place a name to the face.
Kurt ran up the stairs, smiling sheepishly at him.
“You didn't tell me you were having anyone over tonight,” Burt said pointedly, looking between his son and the other boy.
“I know,” Kurt said, blushing, “and I'm sorry about that. Can he stay anyways?”
“I don't know,” Burt answered, looking the awkward boy up and down, “What's wrong with him?”
“It's the full moon.” Kurt inched over and slid an arm around his waist, transferring the weight from the door frame and onto himself, twitching when stubble rubbed over his neck. “He's a werewolf; it's just a little hard to cope with the change right now. I help him out every month.”
Burt sighed and rubbed his forehead, fingers slipping under the brim of his hat. “I don't want to know, do I?”
“Probably not, no.” Kurt stared at him hopefully, biting his lip. “Please? You won't be home anyways.”
“Fine,” Burt acquiesced after a moment, shaking his head. “But if I come home to find Mohawk hurt you, I swear...”
“I know dad,” Kurt interjected quickly, shifting him. “And his name is Puck dad. You'll have to get used to him sooner or later.”
Burt's nose wrinkled and under his hat the two round ears flattened. “We'll see about that.”
II
“Come on Puck,” Kurt grunted, slowly leading the panting teen down the stairs. “A little bit more and we can distract you.”
Shoving Puck onto the bed Kurt fetched the bucket of ice he was keeping in the bathroom, fishing out a couple cubes and holding them to his mouth. Puck growled and bit down on them, crunching them and groaning as the cold numbed his aching gums.
Snarling when his body temperature spiked up, Puck tore off his shirt, tearing the thing fabric.
“Cold bath.” Bright gold eyes turned to him, narrow and hazy from the pain of the forced transformation. The pale blue undertone in Kurt's skin was made more apparent by the light and bright white walls that stung his eyes and Puck didn't know exactly how he was able to make such observations every time he was in the middle of the change, but when it came to Kurt, he'd learned to stop questioning it.
Instead he draped his body over Kurt's and let the Siren haul him into the bathroom, remove his pants and underwear, and shove him into the bath tub. The sudden rush of freezing water made him snarl but it helped with the pain, as it always did. Kurt hummed a few soft, soothing notes to calm him, lips brushing the sensitive shell of his ear and sending a jolt of arousal down his spine that distracted him from the pain and left him craving more.
“Now,” Puck growled, lifting his hips so that his tail could form undisturbed by the tub. Consequentially it made his rapidly forming erection jut out too, a sight that Kurt could never resist. Licking his lips and shaking his head Kurt attempted to calm Puck down and re-submerge himself (more for Kurt's sake than his own).
“Noah, you're not finished yet,” Kurt protested, trying to coax the werewolf back into the cool water. Puck surged forward, slamming their lips together and shoving his tongue between the seam of Kurt's lips, standing unsteadily in the tub and pulling Kurt up with him.
“Fuck this,” he huffed, gritting his teeth and tensing as he stumbled out of the bathroom, dragging Kurt behind him. “I need to fuck you.”
Throwing Kurt onto the bed Puck snapped his neck to the side, listening eagerly to his bones crack. He paused to ring out his sopping wet tail because he knew how sensitive Kurt was about his sheets being ruined (he learned that one the hard way), then crawled onto the bed, running his tongue over his aching gums.
“Take of your clothes, or I'll tear them off,” he said, voice lowered by his enlarged larynx. Kurt licked his lips, watching Puck watch the movements of the pink muscle, mouth twitching against the urge to bite and draw blood. He unconsciously mimicked the movement when the layers Kurt was wearing were peeled off slowly, allowing his attention to be drawn to everything that was being exposed. First the bare arms that were more muscular than anyone thought as the cardigan came off, then the pronounced collar bone when the scarf followed, then the smooth chest and toned abdomen.
Unable to help himself Puck lunged forward and pressed an open mouth kiss against the dip of Kurt's belly button, pushing his tongue inside and soaking in Kurt's shuddering gasp.
“Keep going,” he demanded, voice rasping as he pulled away. Kurt's belly shone in the light, wet from his saliva. With shaking hands Kurt unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, wiggling his hips and contorting until they were off, thin pale legs ending up splayed. Breathing in deeply and delighting in the powerful scent of arousal, he fixed his eyes on the growing bulge in Kurt's boxer briefs. “Well?”
Kurt bit his lip and hooked his thumbs under the waist band, tugging them down slowly and revealing inch by pale inch of glorious skin. As he lifted his legs to kick off the fabric, Puck caught a glimpse of his rear and twitched, almost salivating at the prospect of tasting the smaller teen. Another wave of pain hit him as his shoulder blades grew, skin stretching tight over his body.
He flipped Kurt onto his stomach, roughly grabbing a cheek to each hand and spreading them, pushing his face between them. Kurt yelped, instinctively trying to jerk away from the wet sensation spreading over his hole. The muffled growl Puck released when Kurt tried to jerk away at the sudden invasion was enough to still him until he got used to the probing tongue and started moaning and clenching his muscles. Puck wiggled his tongue as he pushed his tongue as far as possible inside Kurt, grabbing the thin hips and moving them, encouraging Kurt to push back.
Working up enough saliva to make the penetration of his finger comfortable, Puck pulled away to dig around the side dresser for the lube, distracting Kurt from the loss with his index finger. Careful of his growing nails Puck pushed the tip inside, twisting his hand as he grabbed the bottle with his free hand, wasting no time in popping the cap and squirting some out. Pulling out his finger Puck took the time to suck and nibble at Kurt's rim one last time before flipping him onto his back.
Kurt groaned low in the back of his throat, legs falling open. Puck brought a hand down between them, lubricated fingers brushing against flushed skin. Puck drew away hastily when Kurt yelped and jerked his body away.
“What?” he asked, holding his hands up by his shoulders and tensing.
“You scratched me,” Kurt huffed, drawing his left leg up to his shoulder and using his fingers to shift his skin so Puck could see the thin red mark on his ass cheek.
“Fuck!” Kurt rolled his eyes and hummed a calming note into Puck's pointed ear.
“I swear, every time we go through this, and every time you forget,” Kurt muttered as he snatched the lube off the bed and coated his hand, reaching down to shove his fingers inside of himself impatiently. Puck watched hungrily as the slender digits disappeared again and again into his boyfriends body, eagerly anticipating the moment that it would be his dick taking their place. Another wave of pain rolled over his, muscles burning as they stretched and grew to accommodate their new placement. With a snarl Puck grabbed Kurt's wrist and jerked it away, forcing the pale knees onto his shoulders and lining his cock up with Kurt's hole.
Whimpering as Puck immediately set into a fast, punishing pace Kurt reached around to massage the skin around the damp tail, stroking its length in time with Puck's hips. The low rumble of the larger teens groan reverberating through his chest and greedy lips attached to his. After one last stroke he was shoved back against the sheets, legs pushed further apart than before and held up in the air as Puck undulated his hips as fast and as hard as he was able to distract himself from another wave of pain.
Given his current state, Kurt's entire ass would be a single dark purple bruise for the next week from the force.
Puck was too far gone to think of aiming for his prostate, or to think of restraining his movements so they bruised less, but Kurt didn't mind. He also didn't mind when Puck came early with a howl, having much less stamina than usual. He simply wait for the werewolf to finish twitching on top of him, passing a gentle hand down the boney spine and singing a reassuring tune into Puck's ear. Ten minutes later Puck was pushing himself shakily off of Kurt and onto his knees, sliding a hand down his torso until he reached the Siren's cock.
“You know you don't have to do that Noah,” Kurt breathed, biting his lip and trying not to let his hips push into the touch. Puck smirked, sweat dripping down his face.
“I swear, every time we go through this, and every time you forget,” he stated, throwing Kurt's words back in his face. Kurt laughed softly and leaned up to kiss him. “I'm not about to leave you hanging, no matter how far gone I am babe, so suck it up and enjoy it.”
“Mm, I think I can do that for you,” Kurt said softly, moaning as Puck worked his hand faster over him, twisting his hand over the head. As he came his back arched off the bed, hips thrusting into the large hand, and Puck's tongue was exploring his mouth. Puck pulled away and lifted his hand.
“How do you think we should clean up this mess?” he asked. When he started licking off the cum without waiting for a response Kurt rolled his eyes affectionately and stretched out on the bed with a content hum. Glancing at the clock he sighed, brushing his hand over Puck's thigh.
“Dad's going to be home soon no doubt.” Puck looked at him, clean hand brushing back a piece of hair from Kurt's forehead.
“Should I leave?”
Kurt took a moment to think about the repercussions of Burt Hummel walking in on them sleeping naked in the same bed and then remembered their little run in when Puck first showed up. “No, you can stay the night I think.”
With a wide, happy grin that showed off his elongated canines Puck shoved Kurt over and bounced into place behind him, spooning him and snuffing his neck as he nuzzled the soft skin. Kurt laughed, trying to wiggle away from the tickling sensation and reached back to slap Puck's hip.
“Watch it Curly-cue!” he huffed indignantly, toying with the curly brown fur of Puck's tail. “Or everyone will see those pictures of you with a jewfro to rival Israel's!”
The tickling stopped as Puck froze, and then a low growl sounded as well as a quiet, “bitch.”
“I'm neither a female, nor a dog,” Kurt pointed out, “so that insult doesn't apply.”
“Still can't believe my mom gave you those photos,” Puck muttered.
“Really?” Kurt asked, turning to raise an eyebrow at him. “You really don't believe your mother would give me black mail material over you?”
“.......Point,” Puck conceded, “but still...”
“You know it doesn't matter Noah. I was just kidding; no one's going to see those pictures unless you do something unforgivable.”
“I know but still.” Puck shuddered. “Just the thought of them getting out makes me queasy.”
“Vomit on me and I'll neuter you,” Kurt threatened, fitting himself more comfortably against Puck's chest and hips, coaxing one leg between his. “Waffles for breakfast?”
“Yes please.”
III
“Morning dad,” Kurt said as Burt stumbled into the kitchen and dropped onto one of the chairs. “Food?”
“Yes please,” Burt mumbled into the wood of the table top, turning his head to watch his son dish out a plate full of homemade waffles with a drizzle of honey and a heaping pile of fresh fruit. He dug in with gusto, only pausing to sip at his coffee and compliment the taste of the fluffy deliciousness (what? It was a good portion of his favourite foods combined in a really well done manner...... No one ever said he was particularly coherent in the mornings).
Not too far into his meal, the door to Kurt's bedroom swung open and the punk from last night stumbled, much in the same manner as him, into the room. He plastered himself against Kurt's back and grumbled unhappily at the general unfairness of life and 10 AM.
“Good morning to you too Noah,” Kurt chuckled, turning in Puck's arms to kiss him. Burt cleared his throat, annoying and loud. Kurt pulled away and rolled his eyes at his father. “How was your sleep?”
“Mmm, so much better when you were there,” Puck muttered, leaning in for another kiss, much to Burt's continued dismay.
“Hey, hey, hey, Mohawk, back off my son!” Puck back peddled, hands up in surrender, and took a seat at the table with his head down.
“Dad!” Kurt cried, exasperated. Burt shot him a look that he returned in full force. “Quit intimidating my boyfriend. Please.”
Kurt waited until Burt backed down and muttered a sour, “fine,” then dished up another two plates and set one (the fuller one) in front of Puck.
“Why aren't you sitting with us?” Burt asked suspiciously as Kurt started cutting neat squares out of his waffles and spearing a single piece of fruit for each bite. Kurt twitched and Puck froze in the process of decimating his meal.
“I'm just a little sore is all.” Bluish-greenish-gray eyes stared at him, hard and relentless ('It's like looking in a god damn mirror...') and demanding him to drop the subject.
Disgruntled and still a little bit angry but not wishing to be on bad terms with his son so early into the weekend, he obeyed and turned back to his food.
He could always corner Mohawk later and scare the story out of him, after all.
“Dad!”
Or not.