Fic: A Crash Course In Falling 5/6 (Glee, Kurt/Puck, NC17)
Title: A Crash Course In Falling 5/6
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Puck (Kurt/Blaine)
Rating: NC17
Word count: ~60,000 overall; ~9,300 for this part
Summary: When people can’t see what’s standing right in front of them, sometimes the universe resorts to drastic measures. This is one of those times. So AU. So, so AU. Also, wingfic.
A/N: I...haven't actually finished writing this yet. Oops? I hope to have the final part posted on Monday. Tuesday for sure. ruggerdavey is staying with me this weekend; today we are going to a pool party at my sister's house, and on Sunday we're going hiking, so there's not a lot of writing time. I really am almost done, though, so I promise the wait won't be long. I can't promise the ending will be any good, but it'll get done, at least.
Eventually they actually finish their shower. It takes a while, between Puck’s wandering hands and the fact that Kurt can’t seem to stop kissing him, but eventually they manage to clean themselves up and climb back out of the shower again.
Nothing’s changed, really. Kurt still has a pair of very inconvenient, very visible wings, and even if he eventually figures out a way to cover them, he still can’t go out in public without fear of being touched by someone who isn’t Puck. He still has no idea what he’s supposed to do with his life, or even what Puck’s going to do with his.
But they’re in it together, and it turns out that makes all the difference. Kurt’s happier than he’s been since before all this started, at any rate; he hasn’t felt like this since those few fleeting seconds when he thought he might actually have gotten into NYADA. Before his carefully laid plans came crashing down around him, and then he woke up with wings and his whole world collapsed.
Then Puck came along, of all people, and it didn’t really fix anything, except that it did. It changed Kurt’s whole outlook - of his future and even his past - and he still doesn’t know what’s going to happen to them, but he doesn’t mind so much anymore.
“What?” Puck asks, his head emerging from the t-shirt he’s pulling on, and Kurt flushes when he realizes he’s been staring again.
“Nothing,” Kurt answers, but his wings flutter behind him, and when Puck smirks Kurt knows he sees it. “I should tell my dad that I’ve made a decision. About the doctor.”
“Yeah,” Puck says, his smirk fading as quickly as it appears. “You wanna talk to him alone, or...?”
For a moment Kurt thinks about letting him off the hook. But they spent a lot longer in the shower than he planned, which means his dad and Carole and even Finn are probably all eating breakfast, and Kurt will have an audience either way.
“Honestly,” he says instead, rolling his eyes, “he’s not going to be upset about it. He’s made it clear since the start that it’s my decision.”
“Yeah, but you said yourself you thought he kind of wanted you to go through with it.”
“Even if that’s true, he’s not going to hold you responsible.” Kurt closes the distance between them to curl his fingers in the front of Puck’s shirt, dragging him forward and planting a firm kiss on his lips. “Trust me.”
The sound Puck makes tells Kurt he’s not feeling all that trusting, but he lets Kurt kiss him anyway. His hands slide up Kurt’s back to trace the joints of his wings, distracting him in all the right ways, and Kurt sighs against Puck’s mouth and forces himself to pull away.
“We should go out later,” Puck says, breathing the words near Kurt’s ear, and when Kurt tenses against him he pushes his fingers through Kurt’s wings. “Tonight, when there’s less chance anybody will see these. We can drive out to the lake and make out in that bigass car of yours.”
Kurt considers asking how that’s any different than staying in and making out right here, but he hasn’t been anywhere but the hospital since all this happened, and the thought of going out at all is appealing, even if it’s just to the lake to look at the stars. Still, the idea of getting out of the house at all seems too good to be true. “What if...?”
“Trust me,” Puck says, his smile curving against Kurt’s mouth when Puck leans in to kiss him again.
Kurt rolls his eyes, but he can’t quite hide his answering smile. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“It would be nice to get out for a while,” Kurt says, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at the thought of actually going somewhere he might be spotted.
It’s not a foolproof plan or anything, but it’s a lot safer than trying to navigate the Lima Bean or a Warbler party with Blaine. The fact that Puck’s put thought into the safest way to get him out of the house is sort of comforting. It’s still a risk, but it’s one he’s going to have to take sooner or later, unless he really does want to end up like the proverbial madwoman in the attic.
They find his dad in the kitchen, still sitting at the table sipping coffee with Carole. Finn’s nowhere to be found, but Kurt figures that’s for the best, considering. He pours cups of coffee for himself and Puck, then he takes a seat at the table next to Puck and looks at his dad.
“I’ve decided not to meet with the specialist,” Kurt says, and when his dad raises his eyebrows, he feels Puck tense next to him.
“It’s your decision, son,” his dad says, but Kurt doesn’t miss the look he exchanges with Carole. “But you know there’s no harm in hearing what he has to say.”
“There is, though,” Kurt answers, stealing a glance in Puck’s direction. “It’s not just me it hurts when someone touches me. Puck can feel it too.”
His dad opens his mouth, then he closes it again, and Kurt feels the tips of his ears start to burn. But it’s the truth, and it’s not as though his dad hasn’t already heard as much from the doctors.
“I get what you’re saying,” his dad finally says, but he’s still looking at Puck like he doesn’t really believe it. “But if they could do something to make things easier for you, isn’t it worth it?”
“It’s not just the pain,” Puck says, surprising both of them into looking over at him. “I mean yeah, that sucks, but if that was it we could deal. It’s just…what if something goes wrong, you know? Seems like it’s not worth taking the risk just so he can wear shirts again.”
As soon as he stops talking he looks like he wants to run, and Kurt reaches over without thinking and grabs his hand. Puck looks a little surprised, but he curls his own fingers around Kurt’s and holds on anyway.
Kurt knows better than to tell his dad that Puck actually likes his wings. There’s no way he’s going to tell his dad why, for one thing, and anyway it doesn’t really matter. The fact remains that getting rid of them wouldn’t solve the problem, because Kurt still wouldn’t be able to go out in public without serious precautions.
He expects his father to argue some more, so Kurt’s just as surprised as Puck when his dad just nods and looks at Carole again. “Like I said, it’s up to you, son.”
“Honey, I think I’ve finally got a shirt design that will work for you,” Carole says, smiling at Kurt across the table. “Noah can help you try it later.”
“Thank you,” Kurt says, managing not to wince at the thought of whatever fashion travesty he’s in for. It will be worth it if it means he can leave the house without worrying about people staring, even if it’s just to drive out to the lake with Puck.
“So Finn tells me you’re looking to find a job,” Kurt’s dad says, but when Kurt looks over his dad’s not looking at him. Instead he’s staring at Puck, and the hand on his squeezes just a little tighter as Puck nods.
“Yeah…uh, yes, sir.”
“Call me Burt, son,” his dad says, then he lifts his coffee cup and looks at Puck over the rim. “With Finn going off to basic training I’m going to be down a man at the shop. I’d be willing to give you a shot, if you’re interested.”
“I don’t know anything about cars.”
“Neither did Finn. But Kurt’s been working in the garage since he was tall enough to see over a hood. I figure he can make himself useful teaching you the basics when the shop’s closed, and when we’re open I can take over.”
He’s offering Puck a job, but more than that, he’s offering Kurt an escape. Not that working in the shop is his favorite way to spend time, but it’s familiar and safe and he’s good at it, and it means he gets to spend more time with Puck. Maybe he wouldn’t be so quick to employ Puck if he knew they were talking about moving out already, but what his dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him just yet.
“Thanks, Mr. H.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” his dad says, and Kurt knows that’s his way of making sure they both understand this isn’t a guarantee of anything. “Finn’s working a shift this morning; why don’t you ride over with him and let him show you the ropes. Then you can decide if you think you’re up for it.”
When Puck nods his dad stands up, pausing long enough to lean down and kiss Carole’s cheek. “I better head in and open up. I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
“Did your dad just give me a job?” Puck asks once he’s gone, leaning back hard in his chair to look at Kurt.
“He’s giving you a chance,” Kurt answers, but his dad’s about as likely to fire Puck as he is to kick him out of the house, so unless Puck proves himself completely useless at car repair, Kurt’s fairly sure the job’s his as long as he wants it.
He reaches over and takes Puck’s hand again, fingers sliding together and when Puck grins at him, Kurt’s heart skips a beat. His heart, and he has to swallow hard and look away. When he does he finds Carole still sitting across the table, smiling at them with watery eyes, but before he can ask what the problem is she’s pushing her chair back and standing up.
“I’ll just go get those shirts for you to try.”
A second later she’s gone too, leaving Kurt and Puck alone in the kitchen. He feels as though he’s missing something important, but he has no idea what it is. Judging by the way Puck’s looking at him he hasn’t got a clue either, so Kurt decides not to worry about it. Instead he tugs on Puck’s hand until he leans a little closer, then Kurt curls his free hand around Puck’s cheek to pull him into a kiss.
“You’d better go if you don’t want Finn to leave without you,” he says, and when Puck sighs against his mouth Kurt has to swallow a shiver.
“Yeah, I guess I better,” Puck says, then he kisses Kurt again, and it’s all Kurt can do not to curl his fingers in the front of Puck’s shirt and hold on until he promises to stay.
~
Puck comes home from his first shift at the shop exhausted and on edge, with a smear of grease across one cheek that somehow makes him even more attractive than usual. And Kurt doesn’t have a grease monkey kink, thank you very much, but apparently he has a Puck kink, because as soon as Puck walks in the house all Kurt can think about is getting him alone.
It’s a little unsettling, needing someone so much that he can’t think about anything else. Puck’s not even gone as long as he was the last time he left, when he went home to pout at his mother’s house because he thought Kurt didn’t want him around, but Kurt feels it even more this time, the nagging absence making his chest ache and his wings flutter restlessly.
He’s distracted enough to ignore the fact that Finn follows Puck into the house. The truth is that Kurt doesn’t care what Finn thinks, because all he can focus on is touching Puck again. The need’s been nagging at him for hours now, but once they’re in the same room again it’s overwhelming.
He’s moving as soon as the door opens, and when Puck spots him he heads straight for Kurt and catches his hand. He lets Kurt pull him up the stairs, into his room to kick his door closed and wrap his arms around Puck. Warm hands slide up his back to grip his wings, fingers pressing into the soft down at the joints and making Kurt moan into Puck’s shoulder.
“It’s getting worse,” he mumbles against Puck’s skin, turning his face into Puck’s neck to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the tender skin just under his ear.
“Yeah,” Puck says, one hand leaving Kurt’s wings to slide into his hair. “I mean, it’s cool that your dad likes me or whatever, but it was getting kind of hard to focus by the end of the day.”
He’s pulling Kurt into a kiss before he even finishes his sentence, fingers tight in Kurt’s hair and murmuring the words against his mouth. Kurt lets out a sound that can only be described as desperate, blushing all the way to the roots of his hair as Puck pushes his tongue past Kurt’s teeth and kisses him hard.
Kurt wants to ask why it’s getting worse; it should be getting better, especially now that he knows Puck’s planning to stick around. But he knows Puck doesn’t have any answers, so instead of asking Kurt just grips the front of Puck’s shirt to pull him even closer. Closer and closer, but it’s never going to be close enough, and Kurt has no idea what to do about it.
If this thing between them keeps growing stronger there’s no way Puck will be able to get through entire days at the shop without Kurt, and his dad’s not going to understand why Puck has to stop work in the middle of a shift to come home and tear Kurt’s clothes off. He thinks about negotiating conjugal visits in his dad’s office and laughs against Puck’s mouth, the sound coming out strangled as Puck pulls back to look at him.
“It should be getting better, shouldn’t it?” he says, his hands sliding down the front of Puck’s chest to toy with the hem of his shirt. “What else could it want from us?”
He realizes he’s talking about their connection as though it’s a living, breathing thing, but that’s how it’s starting to feel. As though it’s another person in the room with them, demanding more and more no matter what they give it. No matter how much they give each other, and Kurt has no idea what else he can offer Puck.
When Puck grins and slides his hands down Kurt’s back to cup his ass, Kurt rolls his eyes. But he’s blushing too, and he knows Puck doesn’t miss it. “I’m serious.”
“Couldn’t hurt, though, right?” Puck says, still grinning, and Kurt doesn’t quite manage to hold back his laugh. “Maybe we just have to get used to it, you know? We probably just need to practice being apart or whatever.”
“Maybe,” Kurt answers, but he doesn’t really believe it. Not when his wings are spread to their full width and stretching toward Puck, the tips brushing his shoulders as they try to draw Puck closer still.
“Besides, your dad’s cool with us working after hours sometimes,” Puck says, his mouth moving along Kurt’s jaw and dragging little sighs out of him. “That’ll make it easier.”
He’s fairly sure his father wouldn’t be cool with anything if he could see them like this, with Puck’s hand curved possessively around his ass and Kurt’s hands pushing up under his shirt. Puck’ mouth is working its way along his neck now, sucking bright red marks into his skin that Kurt probably won’t be able to hide, even with Carole’s hideous shirts.
Still, he can’t bring himself to make Puck stop, not when this is all he gets. He gets to hide out in his father’s house and wait around for Puck to have time for him, and every so often he gets to leave the house in the dark of night to go to the shop or the lake or somewhere else no one will see him. And he wants all that, but he wants a life, too, and that’s the one thing Puck can’t give him.
“Puck…”
Puck hums against his neck, the sound vibrating all the way to his knees, and Kurt swallows hard and tries again. “Puck.”
“Yeah?” Puck says, pulling away just far enough to brush their lips together this time, and Kurt doesn’t try to stop himself from kissing Puck back.
“Nothing,” Kurt answers, and he knows he shouldn’t, because this isn’t going to solve any of their problems, but he lets Puck slide a hand into his feathers and steer him toward the bed anyway.
~
Spending the afternoon in bed with Puck doesn’t solve anything, but it makes the ache in Kurt’s chest ease up, and by the time they get dressed and go back downstairs for dinner, his wings have settled enough to lie flat against his back. He lets Puck help him with one of Carole’s shirts; it’s not the most fast-forward choice he could make, and it feels a little strange to put on a shirt after all this time, but at least she’s managed to make sure the design doesn’t restrict his wings.
After dinner Puck helps him into a jacket that’s big enough to cover his wings without being annoying, then they climb into Kurt’s Navigator and Puck turns the air conditioning up.
“I’m driving,” Kurt says before they even get out of the house, and he expects an argument, but instead Puck just raises an eyebrow.
“You sure?”
“It’s my car,” Kurt answers, though they both know that’s not what Puck’s asking. But he just shrugs and hands over the keys, and when Kurt settles behind the wheel and squirms around to try to find a comfortable position, Puck doesn’t ask if he’s rethinking his decision.
It’s a little weird, having his wings constricted in the first place. He’s covered them with a blanket plenty of times, sure, but that’s not the same as a jacket that pulls every time he moves his arms, or the press of his leather upholstery when he slides into the driver’s seat. Still, he’s going to have to get used to it eventually, because his wings aren’t going anywhere, and he can’t spend the rest of his life stuck inside.
They make it to the lake without incident, though by the time they get there Kurt’s itchy and uncomfortable, and it’s hard to stay still. The sun’s starting to dip a little lower in the sky, spreading oranges and reds and dark purples across the horizon, but it’s not dark yet, and there are a few more cars dotted around the parking lot when they pull in.
It’s still too warm for him to get out of the car with his jacket on, but he can’t take it off, either, especially when there are other people around. The front seat of the Navigator is built for luxury, but it’s never been exactly comfortable for making out thanks to the large console between the seats. Logistically it would have been smarter to borrow the old pick-up his dad gave Finn to use when he started working at the shop regularly; the bench seat would at least let Kurt slide out from behind the wheel and lean against Puck’s shoulder while they wait for the sun to go down.
“How’s it feel?” Puck asks, and when Kurt looks over he’s looking at Kurt’s back.
“Strange,” Kurt answers, shifting against the seat again. “Like they want to move, but they can’t. It sort of itches. Not like when it first happened, but it’s still annoying.”
Puck nods and glances toward the back of the Navigator, and Kurt knows immediately what he’s thinking. There’s more room back there, and if they climb in the way back there’s no console to separate them. His windows are tinted as well, so a passerby would have to work fairly hard to look in and see them.
“Come on,” Puck says, then he’s climbing out of the car and pulling open the back door, and Kurt slides the keys out of the ignition and follows him. He glances around when he steps outside, but there’s no one watching them that he can see, so Kurt tells himself to stop being paranoid and climbs in back with Puck.
He presses the lock button on his key once he’s safely inside anyway, because there’s being paranoid, and then there’s being smart. If Puck thinks anything of it he doesn’t say; instead he slides across the bench seat and reaches for Kurt, turning him until his back’s to Puck and easing his jacket off.
As soon as his wings are free Kurt lets out a relieved sigh, and when Puck’s hands slide through them to straighten the feathers that got bent out of place while they were covered, he closes his eyes and lets his head drop forward.
“So how was it?” Kurt asks, mostly to distract himself from the way his wings react to Puck’s touch.
“How was what?”
“Your first day at the shop,” Kurt says, turning his head to try to catch a glimpse of Puck.
When he turns, Puck leans close enough to brush a kiss across the corner of Kurt’s mouth, and Kurt turns into him to press their lips together. The angle’s a little awkward, but Puck’s hands are still buried in his wings and he doesn’t seem inclined to let go. Kurt doesn’t really want him to, not when he’s starting to suspect that his wings are what’s keeping them connected in the first place.
He still doesn’t believe that destiny or some random higher power brought them together, not the way Puck does, but there has to be some reason for all of this. There has to be a reason that Kurt started dreaming about Puck’s hands in his wings before he even knew Puck could touch him, back before he realized it was Puck he was dreaming about.
“It was pretty cool,” Puck answers when he pulls back, fingers moving through Kurt’s feathers again in a careful pattern. “It’ll be better when you can go with me.”
Kurt nods and turns away, biting his lip when Puck’s thumbs find the soft down where his wings meet his back. “The shop’s closed on Sunday. We can go in for a while then, if you like.”
His only answer is a soft kiss on the back of his neck, and Kurt doesn’t quite manage to stop the sigh that escapes him. It’s not as though Puck doesn’t know how much Kurt enjoys this, but it feels selfish to keep letting Puck take care of him this way. To keep depending on him to make everything better, to ask him to give up his free time and his friends and whatever it was he did with himself before Kurt.
“There’s this party Sunday night.”
As soon as he registers the words Kurt tenses, wings fluttering under Puck’s touch, and when Puck makes a soothing noise and runs his hands along the ridges, Kurt feels himself blush.
“Oh?” he says, keeping his voice as even as he can, because it’s not as though he can expect Puck to give up everything. If he wants to go to some party...well, it’s no different than Blaine going out without him, and Kurt didn’t have a choice but to accept it then, either.
“Yeah. I would have mentioned it earlier, but Finn just told me about it today. I guess what’s left of New Directions is getting together at Schue’s place, one last blowout or whatever before Finn goes off to basic training. Not that it’ll be much of a blowout considering Schue’s going to be there, but everybody already knows about these,” Puck says, pausing to stroke his palms down the center of Kurt’s wings, “and they know they can’t touch you, so it should be pretty safe.”
When he realizes that Puck’s expecting Kurt to go to the party with him, Kurt feels some of the tension drain out of him, but a second later it’s right back again. “Do the rest of them know about us?”
That’s one of those things they haven’t talked about; so far it hasn’t been important, because no one besides Kurt’s family ever sees them together. Even Puck’s mother probably assumes he’s moved into their house to spend as much time with Finn as he can before he leaves, and all Blaine knows for sure is that Puck can touch him and Blaine can’t.
Up to now he hasn’t stopped to wonder if Puck wants people knowing about them, or if his plans to move in with Kurt involve pretending Kurt’s just his weird, reclusive roommate until they’re behind closed doors.
But Puck’s been surprising him since this whole thing started, which is why Kurt really shouldn’t be surprised when he brushes a kiss against Kurt’s neck this time and says, “Most of them, yeah.”
“Really?” Kurt says, then he does pull away to look at Puck, turning until they’re face to face. “How?”
“Word gets around,” Puck answers, and it’s a vague enough answer to make Kurt wonder what he’s not saying. “Why? That a problem?”
“No,” Kurt says, because it’s not, at least not for him, but he expected Puck to be less than comfortable with it. “I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”
“You sure it’s not because Blaine’s going to be there?”
“No, of course not,” Kurt answers automatically, then he frowns when he realizes he hasn’t even been thinking about the fact that Blaine’s likely to show up at a New Directions party. He’s still a member of New Directions, after all, and he and Finn got along fairly well, for the most part, so there’s no reason to expect him not to be there. Except that Kurt hasn’t heard a word from him since Blaine walked in on him and Puck; technically they never even broke up, though the fact that Kurt’s currently sharing a bed with someone else is probably a deal-breaker.
Puck’s watching him like he doesn’t really believe Kurt, and that’s just ridiculous, because it’s not as though Kurt fought to hold onto his relationship with Blaine. He’s been too busy working out his relationship with Puck, trying to figure out what it all means and whether or not any of the things he’s feeling are real.
“To be honest, I thought maybe you wouldn’t want people to know. I’m not exactly your usual type, after all.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know as much about me as you think,” Puck says, then he drags Kurt forward to kiss him. His hand slides into Kurt’s hair to tilt his head just so, lips parting and tongue sliding along Kurt’s bottom lip to tease his mouth open.
Kurt moans into the kiss and grips Puck’s shoulders, fingers digging in to push him back against the seat. He swings one leg over Puck’s thighs and lets Puck pull him forward, hands on his hips and dragging Kurt down onto his lap to rock up against him. Kurt’s wings spread out behind him, filling up the space between the rows of seats and if anyone walked by and looked in they’d probably be able to see them.
But he can’t bring himself to care, and even if he wanted to he knows he wouldn’t be able to get them under control now. Not when Puck’s hands are sliding up his back to push through his feathers and tugging, just a little, as though he’s letting Kurt know how much he likes this. How much he likes Kurt’s wings, and Kurt laughs against his mouth and pulls back to look at him.
“Sometimes I think maybe you and my wings would like to be alone.”
He expects a laugh, maybe some perverse comment about what Puck would like to do with his wings, exactly. Instead Puck’s hands leave his wings altogether, sliding down his back to settle on his hips again while he looks up at Kurt.
“I like them,” he says, fingers curling into the fabric of Kurt’s jeans and holding him there while Puck rocks up against him. “But I like the rest of you too.”
He’s not sure why he blushes. It’s not as though he doesn’t know Puck finds him attractive, or even that he enjoys Kurt’s company. He’d have to, considering how much time they’ve spent together over the summer, but that doesn’t stop heat from spreading down Kurt’s chest and all the way to the tips of his ears.
His wings flap softly behind him, heart stuttering in his chest, and if there was any room at all in the car Kurt could almost believe he’d be able to lift off the seat. He presses his hands to Puck’s cheeks, thumbs tracing the line of his cheekbones as he leans in and kisses Puck again. Slow this time, soft and open and memorizing the way Puck feels against him. The way his thighs shake between Kurt’s knees and the way he grinds their dicks together through their jeans, and even the low, tortured moans he’s making in the back of his throat.
Kurt hears Puck murmur his name and his heart beats even harder, and he knows he’s going to come in his pants right here in the back seat of his car, but he doesn’t care, because Puck’s still rocking against him and making needy noises that go straight to Kurt’s cock every time.
Puck’s not pushing for more; he seems content to rock against Kurt, hips moving in lazy circles while they kiss. He’s not touching Kurt’s wings anymore, and Kurt knows it’s his own fault for…well, sort of complaining, but he can’t figure out how to get Puck to touch them again without just coming right out and asking.
Without admitting how much he likes that Puck likes his wings, how much he likes the slide of Puck’s fingers through his feathers and the way he grips the joints exactly hard enough without ever pressing hard enough to hurt. As though he knows somehow just what to do, and Kurt knows it’s impossible, but when Puck’s touching him it’s just a little easier to buy his theory about the universe wanting them together.
Puck’s fingers brush the tips of his feathers as though he can’t help himself, and Kurt swallows the shiver that rolls down his spine.
“You can,” he whispers against Puck’s mouth. “I want you to.”
The groan Puck lets out sounds painful, but his hands slide up Kurt’s spine to grip the joints of his wings, fingers curling around them and holding on, pulling Kurt down a little harder into his lap as Puck rocks up against him.
“What’s it feel like?”
“I already told you,” Kurt says, impatient, because they’ve already had this conversation, and the last thing Kurt feels like doing is explaining all over again what it’s like to be saddled with a mostly useless set of wings.
“No,” Puck says, his fingers tightening just enough to drag a moan out of Kurt, “What’s it feel like when I touch them?”
There are a hundred ways Kurt could answer that question. A thousand, each more humiliating than the last, but every one of them would be true. Being touched by Puck is exhilarating and confusing, it’s comforting and electric and he’ll never get enough of it. It feels right in a way Kurt can’t explain, in a way he knows he doesn’t have to, because Puck already knows.
But he doesn’t say any of that; he can’t, because he’s too busy gasping Puck’s name against his mouth and grinding down hard and coming in his jeans.
It should be embarrassing. It is embarrassing, but even as Kurt presses his forehead to Puck’s shoulder to hide his blush, Puck’s hands are moving again, stroking along his feathers while he tries to catch his breath.
“Do you remember when I told you that I had dreams sometimes, about someone touching them?”
“Yeah, babe,” Puck answers, his voice close to Kurt’s ear.
“It was you, in my dreams. I didn’t realize until you touched them the first time, but as soon as you did, I knew it was you.”
“Told you somebody’s been trying to tell us something,” Puck says, and Kurt can’t help snorting a laugh against his shoulder. Because destiny is a ridiculous, romantic concept, but he’s the one who’s been dreaming about Puck’s hands.
He lifts his face from Puck’s shoulder and turns into him, pressing their lips together to kiss Puck slow. Puck’s still moving under him, hips thrusting lazily as though he’s not in any hurry. As though they have all the time in the world, and in some ways they do, but Kurt’s dad won’t be thrilled if they stay out until all hours without telling him.
Kurt flexes his wings until Puck’s hands slide free of his feathers, then he slides off Puck’s lap to kneel in between his thighs, hands on Puck’s jeans and looking up at him. He sees the moment Puck realizes what he’s got in mind, comprehension followed quickly by desire as Puck reaches down to tug his jeans open and pull his cock out.
Puck’s watching him through half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide and his legs spreading a little further as Kurt pushes up on his knees and closes a hand around Puck’s erection. He strokes a few times, grip loose and just watching as Puck’s mouth drops open.
“Babe, please,” Puck says, and he sounds so needy that Kurt doesn’t even think about teasing him. Instead he takes a deep breath and leans in to lick a hot stripe from the base of Puck’s cock all the way to the tip. His lips close around the head, tongue teasing Puck’s slit before he slides his lips as far down as he can go.
He hasn’t done this all that often, and he’s fairly sure he’s not that good at it. Puck’s probably been on the receiving end of much more talented lovers than Kurt, but he hasn’t complained so far, and when his hand slides into Kurt’s hair to trace the tip of his ear, Kurt thinks that maybe Puck doesn’t mind so much that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing.
His hips are moving minutely, thrusting up softly into the warmth of Kurt’s mouth as though he’s struggling not to move too fast and choke Kurt. Or maybe he’s just trying to make it last, but he’s been hard for awhile now, so Kurt’s not surprised that it doesn’t take long for his breathing to change and his hips to start moving a little more erratically.
“Fuck,” Puck murmurs, teeth clenched and his fingers tightening in Kurt’s hair for just a second before he relaxes again. “Kurt…”
He can’t tell if Puck’s trying to get his attention or just begging for more, but Kurt picks up speed anyway, cheeks hollowed to suck hard and twisting his grip just a little. When Puck moans above him Kurt’s wings stretch out, arching up over his shoulders to curve around both of them. Puck’s free hand comes up to slide along Kurt’s right wing, fingers curling around the ridge and holding on as he arches up and comes with a groan.
Kurt swallows around him, then again, pulling off just enough to keep from choking while he waits for Puck to stop shaking. His hand’s still moving on Puck’s cock, grip loose as he lets Puck slip out of his mouth and reaches up to wipe at his mouth with his free hand.
“Babe,” Puck says, voice rough, then he reaches for Kurt’s arm and drags him up until they’re kissing again. His tongue pushes past Kurt’s teeth to chase the flavor of his own come, hands sliding into Kurt’s feathers and pulling him close. “I…”
He doesn’t know for sure what Puck’s about to say. He’s not sure he’d even be able to hear it over the sound of his heartbeat, but Kurt’s not willing to take the chance. He pushes forward before Puck can finish his thought, lips pressed together and kissing Puck hard. It’s wet and messy, teeth clacking and his fingers gripping Puck’s shoulders too hard until Puck gives up on talking altogether and gives himself over to the kiss.
His hands slide down Kurt’s back to curve around his waist, dragging him close and mouthing his way along Kurt’s jaw to suck at the underside of Kurt’s chin. “Kurt…”
“We should stop at the drugstore on the way home,” Kurt interrupts, pulling back to trace his fingers over Puck’s kiss-red lips.
“What for?” Puck asks, his lips moving against Kurt’s fingertips and sending a shiver down Kurt’s spine.
“As much as I enjoy the moisturizing qualities of my forty dollar an ounce eye cream, it would be more economical to pick up some actual lube.”
“Oh,” Puck says, frowning for a second before he straightens up a little and adds, “Oh. Yeah. You’re right, we should probably head back.”
Kurt laughs and lets Puck push him off, watching while Puck tucks himself back in and zips up his jeans. He spares a moment of regret that he didn’t think to stop on the way out to the lake, but when Puck sits up and reaches out to run a hand along his wing, he decides it doesn’t really matter.
“You want to drive?” Puck asks, eyeing Kurt’s jacket where it’s still lying over the middle seat where Kurt put it.
Kurt shakes his head, then he reaches for his keys and holds them up. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to the idea of letting you drive my car anyway.”
“Why’s that?” Puck asks, but he reaches out for the keys as though maybe he’s worried that Kurt’s going to change his mind.
“Because you’re going to have to drive yourself to the shop if you’re going to come home for lunch every day.”
“What’s lunch got…oh,” Puck says, eyes going a little wide when he realizes what Kurt’s saying. And it’s not a perfect solution, but it’s the best they’ve got, at least until they figure out some way to be apart for longer than a few hours.
Before Kurt can answer Puck’s pushing forward, arm around his waist and dragging him close to kiss him again. “Yeah,” he says, and “okay,” and “whatever you want, babe,” and Kurt knows without a doubt that he means it.
~
Rather than put his jacket back on and worry about accidentally touching anyone who isn’t Puck, Kurt lets him go into the drugstore alone. He comes back out with three different kinds of lube and another box of condoms, and when Kurt raises an eyebrow at him, Puck just shrugs and says, “I figured we should try a few kinds, see which one works the best.”
Personally, Kurt thinks three kinds of lube is overkill, because how different can they actually be? But as it turns out, Puck has a good point, because the first brand is too sticky and requires that they stop and reapply far too often for Kurt’s liking. Not that he minds taking their time, but it’s just not practical when Puck’s only got an hour for lunch.
Not that they spend all of his lunch hours tearing each other’s clothes off. The first time Puck comes home in the middle of the day Kurt actually feeds him, then they sit at the kitchen table talking about the junker Kurt’s dad has Puck practicing on and the problems he’s having with it. Kurt gives him some tips, and Puck nods as though he’s actually listening.
They spend almost the entire time touching, fingers brushing the back of a hand or a thigh or a forearm. Every so often Puck leans in to press a kiss to the side of Kurt’s neck, and once or twice Kurt stops talking long enough to turn into Puck and kiss him thoroughly. When Puck has to go Kurt walks him to the door, presses him up against it and kisses him hard, and when Puck finally tears himself away and slips out the door Kurt’s wings are vibrating.
He spends the rest of the afternoon feeling weirdly unsettled, and when Puck gets home at the end of the day he drags Kurt up to their room and spends the rest of the night pressing kisses to every inch of Kurt’s skin. They never make it down to dinner, and none of Kurt’s family is reckless enough to come looking for them.
Later, when Puck’s snoring softly next to him, Kurt lies on his side in the dark, hand pressed to the center of Puck’s chest and listening to their hearts beat in time with one another. It’s the first time he’s ever stayed up to watch Puck sleep, and he knows it’s ridiculous, because Puck’s right there, but he can’t bring himself to close his eyes.
Kurt had hoped that seeing Puck in the middle of the day would be enough, that if he could just talk to Puck and touch him for a while, that it would be easier to get through the rest of the day alone. But it seems as though the more time they spend together, the more Kurt needs, and the thought of Puck getting up in the morning and going back to the shop makes Kurt’s chest ache even though Puck’s still lying right next to him.
The next day goes more or less the same way, except that when Puck gets home at lunchtime, he just shakes his head at Kurt’s offer of food and steers him into the living room. They spend nearly an hour making out on the couch, hands pushing under clothing to get at bare skin, and by the time Puck has to go back to work, they’ve managed to get mostly naked without ever letting go of each other.
But it’s still not enough, and when Puck leaves this time Kurt’s chest aches so much that he has to blink back frustrated tears. None of this should be happening; it should be getting easier, because he knows exactly where Puck is, and he knows Puck’s coming back. His wings don’t seem to understand, though, because as soon as Puck leaves they wilt against his back, pining, apparently, and Kurt knows better than to try to talk any sense into them.
On the third day, Kurt drags Puck straight to their room as soon as he gets home. This time he does tear all their clothes off, then he reaches for the lube they both like best and shoves Puck down onto the mattress to straddle his thighs. Later he won’t be able to say what comes over him; he’s never been so forward, and he’s certainly never been sure of himself when it comes to this sort of thing.
Still, Puck’s not complaining. In fact, he seems as desperate as Kurt to get as close together as possible, to make the most of the little time they have before he has to leave again. His hands are everywhere, touching Kurt’s hips and his chest and his face and finally his wings, fingers sliding through the feathers as Kurt lines himself up and sinks down onto Puck’s cock.
He hooks his hands around the back of Puck’s neck, holding on and moving fast, and he knows it’s going to hurt later, but he doesn’t care. He wants to feel it when Puck’s back at the shop, hopes that maybe if he can still feel Puck on him - in him - that it won’t hurt so much when he’s gone.
Puck’s talking, things like fuck and come on and you’re so fucking hot and Kurt blushes, but he doesn’t stop moving. His thighs feel like they’re on fire, but still he doesn’t slow down, because they don’t have much time and anyway he needs this.
“Puck,” Kurt gasps, leaning in to kiss him hard, breathing against his mouth and when Puck reaches between them and grips his cock, Kurt lets out a moan and comes in his hand.
He clenches around Puck, dragging a moan out of him, then Puck thrusts up hard one more time and lets go. It’s over way too soon, but he knows they’re almost out of time, and as soon as he thinks it the familiar ache settles in his chest again.
“It’s not getting better,” Kurt says, face pressed against Puck’s shoulder, and he’s even sure he’s said it out loud until Puck’s arms slide around his back to hold him close.
“I know, babe,” Puck answers, turning into Kurt to brush a kiss across his forehead. Another kiss lands on his cheek, then his jaw and down his neck until Puck’s sucking hard at his skin, and Kurt doesn’t even try to stop him from leaving a mark.
“I’ll talk to my dad,” Kurt says, voice coming out breathy and strained as he tilts his head to give Puck more room to work. “Maybe he’ll let you work late tomorrow so I can come with you.”
Puck’s nodding against him, hands sliding up his back to grip the joints of his wings, and Kurt sucks in a sharp breath and clenches around the cock still buried inside him. He feels Puck moan against his neck and turns into him, pressing their lips together and kissing him hard.
It’s an empty promise, because they both know they can’t go on like this. Neither of them can have any kind of a life if they can’t even stand to be apart for a few hours, and nothing they’ve tried so far has made it any better. His father’s trying to understand, but Kurt can’t expect him to understand this when he doesn’t understand it himself. He has no idea why this is happening, why the connection’s getting more intense the closer they get to one another.
“You have to go,” he whispers, and he wants to laugh, because it’s so ridiculous, but he can’t help feeling like he’s being ripped apart.
“I’ll be back soon,” Puck says, kissing his way back up Kurt’s jaw to press their lips together again.
Kurt nods and kisses him back, wings fluttering impatiently behind him, and Kurt knows it’s not going to be anywhere near enough.
~
As it turns out, hanging out after hours in the shop with Puck is kind of fun.
Kurt’s never been all that crazy about fixing cars. He’s good at it, which is why his father didn’t complain too much during high school when Kurt picked up shifts to earn money for whatever outfit he had his heart set on. But his heart’s never been in it, not the way his dad’s has always been.
Puck seems to enjoy it, though, and Kurt’s not too proud to admit that he enjoys watching Puck enjoy something he has a natural talent for. And he does; he’s not a mechanical genius or anything, but he’s good with his hands, and he’s a fast learner when he’s interested in the subject at hand.
Seeing him like this makes it worth the painful conversation Kurt had with his father in order to convince him that he should let Kurt and Puck work unsupervised after hours. Puck still doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and Kurt’s not exactly an expert, but the truth is that this was all his dad’s idea, so in the end he gives in and lets them have some time alone.
Finn tries to invite himself along, but it’s Puck who puts an end to that by telling him bluntly that he’s not invited. And it’s not as though they’ve spent the whole night making out or anything, but it’s been nice, just the two of them, fingers brushing as they pass tools back and forth. Puck’s hand rests on Kurt’s back while Kurt leans in to explain the best way to disconnect a radiator, and when his wing get a little too close to a spot of engine grease, it’s Puck who lifts it out of harm’s way.
“Careful, babe,” he says, his fingers lingering for a moment or two before he lets go. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Can we even get grease out of your feathers?”
Kurt nods, cheeks burning, because he’s googled this, too. “Apparently dishwashing liquid works best. You know, like in the commercials with the penguins that got caught in that oil spill.”
He expects Puck to laugh, but he just nods and leans against the hood to look at Kurt. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Though I’d just as soon not have to find out how well it really works,” Kurt says, frowning over his shoulder at his wings as though they’ve personally offended him. “I suppose I could try a pair of coveralls.”
He assumes they’ll be just as irritating as the jacket he tried the other night, but it’ll be worth a little irritation to avoid having to wash grease out of his wings. Not that he hates the idea of having another excuse to shower with Puck, but he’d just as soon they didn’t have to spend it scrubbing Kurt’s feathers.
He finds his old coveralls hanging on a hook near the lockers at the back of the garage, pulling them up to his waist before he crosses back to the car where Puck’s still leaning on the hood and watching him. “Would you mind…?”
Puck pushes himself off the car when Kurt turns his back, holding up the top of the coveralls and letting Kurt slide one arm into a sleeve. He’s careful to make sure Kurt’s feathers don’t get ruffled by the fabric, and once Kurt’s got his other arm safely in the sleeve, Puck turns him until they’re face to face and reaches down to zip him up.
“Damn, Kurt.”
“What?” Kurt asks, but he’s blushing already, and when Puck leans in to kiss him, Kurt doesn’t try to stop him.
“You look hot,” Puck answers, hands on Kurt’s hips and dragging him close, and Kurt’s not about to admit it or anything, but he’s had a few fantasies that started out this way.
“In a grease-covered pair of coveralls,” Kurt says, but he’s already picturing Puck wearing a pair of coveralls of his own, and he has to admit he can see the appeal.
“Yeah.” Puck breathes the word against his neck, lips brushing his skin and his hands moving like they can’t decide where to touch first. Like they’re thinking about peeling Kurt’s coveralls right back off him again, and it’s the first time Puck’s claimed to find him attractive when he can’t see Kurt’s wings.
It shouldn’t matter, because they’re still there, and it’s not as though Puck doesn’t know it. But somehow it makes Kurt feel a little better, a little less like this is all just some bizarre wing-related fetish on Puck’s part and more like he actually wants Kurt.
“Do you have some carefully hidden tradesman fetish I should know about?” Kurt asks, but his voice is breathy and he’s not entirely sure he wants to hear the answer.
“Huh?” Puck says, his forehead pulling down into a confused frown that probably won’t even leave wrinkles, because Puck’s going to be one of those men who keeps his looks without any effort whatsoever. The fact that Kurt might actually be around to see him age gracefully makes Kurt’s heart pick up speed, and he’s too distracted by the thought to argue when Puck stops kissing him.
“Look, all I know is that it’s a total turn-on that you’re badass enough to fix an engine.”
“Finn can fix an engine too,” Kurt says. “Sort of, anyway. My dad definitely can.”
Puck rolls his eyes, then he slides his hand up Kurt’s back to rest a palm carefully against the spot just below his wing joints. “Yeah, but you’re the only one who’s badass enough to fix an engine and pull off a pair of wings.”
Kurt thinks about pointing out that it’s only because he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. It’s not as though he asked for wings, and if there was a way to get rid of them, he’d have done it when they first appeared. But he’s passed up a chance since then, and he’s already promised Puck that he won’t try to get rid of them, so maybe Puck has a point.
“So you’re saying that if my father had wings, you’d be dating him instead?”
“I already told you, it’s not about the wings.” Puck shrugs and lets go of Kurt, hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck. “Truth is, I wanted you before all that.”
Kurt remembers what Finn said about Puck and his tendency to develop inappropriate crushes. The word Finn used was ‘obsession’, but to Kurt it’s always seemed as though Puck only wants what he can’t have. Only he’s got Kurt now, and he’s the one with all the choices here, so maybe it’s not as simple as that after all.
“I had no idea. I didn’t even consider it a possibility,” Kurt says, and it’s the truth, but he can tell by the look on Puck’s face that it’s not what he wants to hear. “But if this was going to happen with anyone, I’m not sorry that it’s you.”
“But you wouldn’t have picked me.”
It’s not a question; they both know Kurt wouldn’t have chosen Puck, if he’d had a choice. He wouldn’t even have known Puck was an option, so maybe that’s where Puck’s destiny theory comes in. Something out there took the choice out of his hands for a reason, and Kurt still doesn’t believe in fate or God or whatever Puck’s calling it today, but he can’t deny that there’s something real between them.
“Maybe that’s why the choice wasn’t left up to me.”
Puck huffs a laugh Kurt can tell he doesn’t really mean, but he doesn’t move away when Kurt takes a few steps forward. His hands land on Puck’s arms to drag them around him, then he presses forward to brush his lips along Puck’s jaw. When Puck’s arms tighten around him Kurt lets out a breath and slides his hands up Puck’s chest to grip the front of his t-shirt.
“Puck,” Kurt whispers, face turned into Puck’s neck and mouthing the words against his skin. The arms around his waist tighten again, and Kurt sighs into his neck and breathes in the familiar scents of sweat and boy and engine grease. “Can we just go home?”
For a moment he thinks Puck’s going to say no, that he needs some time apart to try to figure out what they’re doing. But they’ve been trying to figure it out since it started with no luck, so Kurt doesn’t see how time apart will make it any better. Not when it always leaves him feeling tense and hollow and distracted, as though something’s missing that he might not ever get back.
Puck’s arms leave his waist and Kurt braces himself for the inevitable, but instead of letting go Puck reaches out to tug at the zipper on Kurt’s coveralls. “Can we keep the uniform?”
“If it means that much to you,” Kurt says, but what he means is yes and anything and whatever you say.
Though maybe Puck understands him anyway, because he grins and drags Kurt forward to kiss him hard before he answers.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, breath warm against Kurt’s lips and sending shivers down his spine. “Let’s go home.”
Part Six
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Puck (Kurt/Blaine)
Rating: NC17
Word count: ~60,000 overall; ~9,300 for this part
Summary: When people can’t see what’s standing right in front of them, sometimes the universe resorts to drastic measures. This is one of those times. So AU. So, so AU. Also, wingfic.
A/N: I...haven't actually finished writing this yet. Oops? I hope to have the final part posted on Monday. Tuesday for sure. ruggerdavey is staying with me this weekend; today we are going to a pool party at my sister's house, and on Sunday we're going hiking, so there's not a lot of writing time. I really am almost done, though, so I promise the wait won't be long. I can't promise the ending will be any good, but it'll get done, at least.
Eventually they actually finish their shower. It takes a while, between Puck’s wandering hands and the fact that Kurt can’t seem to stop kissing him, but eventually they manage to clean themselves up and climb back out of the shower again.
Nothing’s changed, really. Kurt still has a pair of very inconvenient, very visible wings, and even if he eventually figures out a way to cover them, he still can’t go out in public without fear of being touched by someone who isn’t Puck. He still has no idea what he’s supposed to do with his life, or even what Puck’s going to do with his.
But they’re in it together, and it turns out that makes all the difference. Kurt’s happier than he’s been since before all this started, at any rate; he hasn’t felt like this since those few fleeting seconds when he thought he might actually have gotten into NYADA. Before his carefully laid plans came crashing down around him, and then he woke up with wings and his whole world collapsed.
Then Puck came along, of all people, and it didn’t really fix anything, except that it did. It changed Kurt’s whole outlook - of his future and even his past - and he still doesn’t know what’s going to happen to them, but he doesn’t mind so much anymore.
“What?” Puck asks, his head emerging from the t-shirt he’s pulling on, and Kurt flushes when he realizes he’s been staring again.
“Nothing,” Kurt answers, but his wings flutter behind him, and when Puck smirks Kurt knows he sees it. “I should tell my dad that I’ve made a decision. About the doctor.”
“Yeah,” Puck says, his smirk fading as quickly as it appears. “You wanna talk to him alone, or...?”
For a moment Kurt thinks about letting him off the hook. But they spent a lot longer in the shower than he planned, which means his dad and Carole and even Finn are probably all eating breakfast, and Kurt will have an audience either way.
“Honestly,” he says instead, rolling his eyes, “he’s not going to be upset about it. He’s made it clear since the start that it’s my decision.”
“Yeah, but you said yourself you thought he kind of wanted you to go through with it.”
“Even if that’s true, he’s not going to hold you responsible.” Kurt closes the distance between them to curl his fingers in the front of Puck’s shirt, dragging him forward and planting a firm kiss on his lips. “Trust me.”
The sound Puck makes tells Kurt he’s not feeling all that trusting, but he lets Kurt kiss him anyway. His hands slide up Kurt’s back to trace the joints of his wings, distracting him in all the right ways, and Kurt sighs against Puck’s mouth and forces himself to pull away.
“We should go out later,” Puck says, breathing the words near Kurt’s ear, and when Kurt tenses against him he pushes his fingers through Kurt’s wings. “Tonight, when there’s less chance anybody will see these. We can drive out to the lake and make out in that bigass car of yours.”
Kurt considers asking how that’s any different than staying in and making out right here, but he hasn’t been anywhere but the hospital since all this happened, and the thought of going out at all is appealing, even if it’s just to the lake to look at the stars. Still, the idea of getting out of the house at all seems too good to be true. “What if...?”
“Trust me,” Puck says, his smile curving against Kurt’s mouth when Puck leans in to kiss him again.
Kurt rolls his eyes, but he can’t quite hide his answering smile. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“It would be nice to get out for a while,” Kurt says, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at the thought of actually going somewhere he might be spotted.
It’s not a foolproof plan or anything, but it’s a lot safer than trying to navigate the Lima Bean or a Warbler party with Blaine. The fact that Puck’s put thought into the safest way to get him out of the house is sort of comforting. It’s still a risk, but it’s one he’s going to have to take sooner or later, unless he really does want to end up like the proverbial madwoman in the attic.
They find his dad in the kitchen, still sitting at the table sipping coffee with Carole. Finn’s nowhere to be found, but Kurt figures that’s for the best, considering. He pours cups of coffee for himself and Puck, then he takes a seat at the table next to Puck and looks at his dad.
“I’ve decided not to meet with the specialist,” Kurt says, and when his dad raises his eyebrows, he feels Puck tense next to him.
“It’s your decision, son,” his dad says, but Kurt doesn’t miss the look he exchanges with Carole. “But you know there’s no harm in hearing what he has to say.”
“There is, though,” Kurt answers, stealing a glance in Puck’s direction. “It’s not just me it hurts when someone touches me. Puck can feel it too.”
His dad opens his mouth, then he closes it again, and Kurt feels the tips of his ears start to burn. But it’s the truth, and it’s not as though his dad hasn’t already heard as much from the doctors.
“I get what you’re saying,” his dad finally says, but he’s still looking at Puck like he doesn’t really believe it. “But if they could do something to make things easier for you, isn’t it worth it?”
“It’s not just the pain,” Puck says, surprising both of them into looking over at him. “I mean yeah, that sucks, but if that was it we could deal. It’s just…what if something goes wrong, you know? Seems like it’s not worth taking the risk just so he can wear shirts again.”
As soon as he stops talking he looks like he wants to run, and Kurt reaches over without thinking and grabs his hand. Puck looks a little surprised, but he curls his own fingers around Kurt’s and holds on anyway.
Kurt knows better than to tell his dad that Puck actually likes his wings. There’s no way he’s going to tell his dad why, for one thing, and anyway it doesn’t really matter. The fact remains that getting rid of them wouldn’t solve the problem, because Kurt still wouldn’t be able to go out in public without serious precautions.
He expects his father to argue some more, so Kurt’s just as surprised as Puck when his dad just nods and looks at Carole again. “Like I said, it’s up to you, son.”
“Honey, I think I’ve finally got a shirt design that will work for you,” Carole says, smiling at Kurt across the table. “Noah can help you try it later.”
“Thank you,” Kurt says, managing not to wince at the thought of whatever fashion travesty he’s in for. It will be worth it if it means he can leave the house without worrying about people staring, even if it’s just to drive out to the lake with Puck.
“So Finn tells me you’re looking to find a job,” Kurt’s dad says, but when Kurt looks over his dad’s not looking at him. Instead he’s staring at Puck, and the hand on his squeezes just a little tighter as Puck nods.
“Yeah…uh, yes, sir.”
“Call me Burt, son,” his dad says, then he lifts his coffee cup and looks at Puck over the rim. “With Finn going off to basic training I’m going to be down a man at the shop. I’d be willing to give you a shot, if you’re interested.”
“I don’t know anything about cars.”
“Neither did Finn. But Kurt’s been working in the garage since he was tall enough to see over a hood. I figure he can make himself useful teaching you the basics when the shop’s closed, and when we’re open I can take over.”
He’s offering Puck a job, but more than that, he’s offering Kurt an escape. Not that working in the shop is his favorite way to spend time, but it’s familiar and safe and he’s good at it, and it means he gets to spend more time with Puck. Maybe he wouldn’t be so quick to employ Puck if he knew they were talking about moving out already, but what his dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him just yet.
“Thanks, Mr. H.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” his dad says, and Kurt knows that’s his way of making sure they both understand this isn’t a guarantee of anything. “Finn’s working a shift this morning; why don’t you ride over with him and let him show you the ropes. Then you can decide if you think you’re up for it.”
When Puck nods his dad stands up, pausing long enough to lean down and kiss Carole’s cheek. “I better head in and open up. I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
“Did your dad just give me a job?” Puck asks once he’s gone, leaning back hard in his chair to look at Kurt.
“He’s giving you a chance,” Kurt answers, but his dad’s about as likely to fire Puck as he is to kick him out of the house, so unless Puck proves himself completely useless at car repair, Kurt’s fairly sure the job’s his as long as he wants it.
He reaches over and takes Puck’s hand again, fingers sliding together and when Puck grins at him, Kurt’s heart skips a beat. His heart, and he has to swallow hard and look away. When he does he finds Carole still sitting across the table, smiling at them with watery eyes, but before he can ask what the problem is she’s pushing her chair back and standing up.
“I’ll just go get those shirts for you to try.”
A second later she’s gone too, leaving Kurt and Puck alone in the kitchen. He feels as though he’s missing something important, but he has no idea what it is. Judging by the way Puck’s looking at him he hasn’t got a clue either, so Kurt decides not to worry about it. Instead he tugs on Puck’s hand until he leans a little closer, then Kurt curls his free hand around Puck’s cheek to pull him into a kiss.
“You’d better go if you don’t want Finn to leave without you,” he says, and when Puck sighs against his mouth Kurt has to swallow a shiver.
“Yeah, I guess I better,” Puck says, then he kisses Kurt again, and it’s all Kurt can do not to curl his fingers in the front of Puck’s shirt and hold on until he promises to stay.
~
Puck comes home from his first shift at the shop exhausted and on edge, with a smear of grease across one cheek that somehow makes him even more attractive than usual. And Kurt doesn’t have a grease monkey kink, thank you very much, but apparently he has a Puck kink, because as soon as Puck walks in the house all Kurt can think about is getting him alone.
It’s a little unsettling, needing someone so much that he can’t think about anything else. Puck’s not even gone as long as he was the last time he left, when he went home to pout at his mother’s house because he thought Kurt didn’t want him around, but Kurt feels it even more this time, the nagging absence making his chest ache and his wings flutter restlessly.
He’s distracted enough to ignore the fact that Finn follows Puck into the house. The truth is that Kurt doesn’t care what Finn thinks, because all he can focus on is touching Puck again. The need’s been nagging at him for hours now, but once they’re in the same room again it’s overwhelming.
He’s moving as soon as the door opens, and when Puck spots him he heads straight for Kurt and catches his hand. He lets Kurt pull him up the stairs, into his room to kick his door closed and wrap his arms around Puck. Warm hands slide up his back to grip his wings, fingers pressing into the soft down at the joints and making Kurt moan into Puck’s shoulder.
“It’s getting worse,” he mumbles against Puck’s skin, turning his face into Puck’s neck to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the tender skin just under his ear.
“Yeah,” Puck says, one hand leaving Kurt’s wings to slide into his hair. “I mean, it’s cool that your dad likes me or whatever, but it was getting kind of hard to focus by the end of the day.”
He’s pulling Kurt into a kiss before he even finishes his sentence, fingers tight in Kurt’s hair and murmuring the words against his mouth. Kurt lets out a sound that can only be described as desperate, blushing all the way to the roots of his hair as Puck pushes his tongue past Kurt’s teeth and kisses him hard.
Kurt wants to ask why it’s getting worse; it should be getting better, especially now that he knows Puck’s planning to stick around. But he knows Puck doesn’t have any answers, so instead of asking Kurt just grips the front of Puck’s shirt to pull him even closer. Closer and closer, but it’s never going to be close enough, and Kurt has no idea what to do about it.
If this thing between them keeps growing stronger there’s no way Puck will be able to get through entire days at the shop without Kurt, and his dad’s not going to understand why Puck has to stop work in the middle of a shift to come home and tear Kurt’s clothes off. He thinks about negotiating conjugal visits in his dad’s office and laughs against Puck’s mouth, the sound coming out strangled as Puck pulls back to look at him.
“It should be getting better, shouldn’t it?” he says, his hands sliding down the front of Puck’s chest to toy with the hem of his shirt. “What else could it want from us?”
He realizes he’s talking about their connection as though it’s a living, breathing thing, but that’s how it’s starting to feel. As though it’s another person in the room with them, demanding more and more no matter what they give it. No matter how much they give each other, and Kurt has no idea what else he can offer Puck.
When Puck grins and slides his hands down Kurt’s back to cup his ass, Kurt rolls his eyes. But he’s blushing too, and he knows Puck doesn’t miss it. “I’m serious.”
“Couldn’t hurt, though, right?” Puck says, still grinning, and Kurt doesn’t quite manage to hold back his laugh. “Maybe we just have to get used to it, you know? We probably just need to practice being apart or whatever.”
“Maybe,” Kurt answers, but he doesn’t really believe it. Not when his wings are spread to their full width and stretching toward Puck, the tips brushing his shoulders as they try to draw Puck closer still.
“Besides, your dad’s cool with us working after hours sometimes,” Puck says, his mouth moving along Kurt’s jaw and dragging little sighs out of him. “That’ll make it easier.”
He’s fairly sure his father wouldn’t be cool with anything if he could see them like this, with Puck’s hand curved possessively around his ass and Kurt’s hands pushing up under his shirt. Puck’ mouth is working its way along his neck now, sucking bright red marks into his skin that Kurt probably won’t be able to hide, even with Carole’s hideous shirts.
Still, he can’t bring himself to make Puck stop, not when this is all he gets. He gets to hide out in his father’s house and wait around for Puck to have time for him, and every so often he gets to leave the house in the dark of night to go to the shop or the lake or somewhere else no one will see him. And he wants all that, but he wants a life, too, and that’s the one thing Puck can’t give him.
“Puck…”
Puck hums against his neck, the sound vibrating all the way to his knees, and Kurt swallows hard and tries again. “Puck.”
“Yeah?” Puck says, pulling away just far enough to brush their lips together this time, and Kurt doesn’t try to stop himself from kissing Puck back.
“Nothing,” Kurt answers, and he knows he shouldn’t, because this isn’t going to solve any of their problems, but he lets Puck slide a hand into his feathers and steer him toward the bed anyway.
~
Spending the afternoon in bed with Puck doesn’t solve anything, but it makes the ache in Kurt’s chest ease up, and by the time they get dressed and go back downstairs for dinner, his wings have settled enough to lie flat against his back. He lets Puck help him with one of Carole’s shirts; it’s not the most fast-forward choice he could make, and it feels a little strange to put on a shirt after all this time, but at least she’s managed to make sure the design doesn’t restrict his wings.
After dinner Puck helps him into a jacket that’s big enough to cover his wings without being annoying, then they climb into Kurt’s Navigator and Puck turns the air conditioning up.
“I’m driving,” Kurt says before they even get out of the house, and he expects an argument, but instead Puck just raises an eyebrow.
“You sure?”
“It’s my car,” Kurt answers, though they both know that’s not what Puck’s asking. But he just shrugs and hands over the keys, and when Kurt settles behind the wheel and squirms around to try to find a comfortable position, Puck doesn’t ask if he’s rethinking his decision.
It’s a little weird, having his wings constricted in the first place. He’s covered them with a blanket plenty of times, sure, but that’s not the same as a jacket that pulls every time he moves his arms, or the press of his leather upholstery when he slides into the driver’s seat. Still, he’s going to have to get used to it eventually, because his wings aren’t going anywhere, and he can’t spend the rest of his life stuck inside.
They make it to the lake without incident, though by the time they get there Kurt’s itchy and uncomfortable, and it’s hard to stay still. The sun’s starting to dip a little lower in the sky, spreading oranges and reds and dark purples across the horizon, but it’s not dark yet, and there are a few more cars dotted around the parking lot when they pull in.
It’s still too warm for him to get out of the car with his jacket on, but he can’t take it off, either, especially when there are other people around. The front seat of the Navigator is built for luxury, but it’s never been exactly comfortable for making out thanks to the large console between the seats. Logistically it would have been smarter to borrow the old pick-up his dad gave Finn to use when he started working at the shop regularly; the bench seat would at least let Kurt slide out from behind the wheel and lean against Puck’s shoulder while they wait for the sun to go down.
“How’s it feel?” Puck asks, and when Kurt looks over he’s looking at Kurt’s back.
“Strange,” Kurt answers, shifting against the seat again. “Like they want to move, but they can’t. It sort of itches. Not like when it first happened, but it’s still annoying.”
Puck nods and glances toward the back of the Navigator, and Kurt knows immediately what he’s thinking. There’s more room back there, and if they climb in the way back there’s no console to separate them. His windows are tinted as well, so a passerby would have to work fairly hard to look in and see them.
“Come on,” Puck says, then he’s climbing out of the car and pulling open the back door, and Kurt slides the keys out of the ignition and follows him. He glances around when he steps outside, but there’s no one watching them that he can see, so Kurt tells himself to stop being paranoid and climbs in back with Puck.
He presses the lock button on his key once he’s safely inside anyway, because there’s being paranoid, and then there’s being smart. If Puck thinks anything of it he doesn’t say; instead he slides across the bench seat and reaches for Kurt, turning him until his back’s to Puck and easing his jacket off.
As soon as his wings are free Kurt lets out a relieved sigh, and when Puck’s hands slide through them to straighten the feathers that got bent out of place while they were covered, he closes his eyes and lets his head drop forward.
“So how was it?” Kurt asks, mostly to distract himself from the way his wings react to Puck’s touch.
“How was what?”
“Your first day at the shop,” Kurt says, turning his head to try to catch a glimpse of Puck.
When he turns, Puck leans close enough to brush a kiss across the corner of Kurt’s mouth, and Kurt turns into him to press their lips together. The angle’s a little awkward, but Puck’s hands are still buried in his wings and he doesn’t seem inclined to let go. Kurt doesn’t really want him to, not when he’s starting to suspect that his wings are what’s keeping them connected in the first place.
He still doesn’t believe that destiny or some random higher power brought them together, not the way Puck does, but there has to be some reason for all of this. There has to be a reason that Kurt started dreaming about Puck’s hands in his wings before he even knew Puck could touch him, back before he realized it was Puck he was dreaming about.
“It was pretty cool,” Puck answers when he pulls back, fingers moving through Kurt’s feathers again in a careful pattern. “It’ll be better when you can go with me.”
Kurt nods and turns away, biting his lip when Puck’s thumbs find the soft down where his wings meet his back. “The shop’s closed on Sunday. We can go in for a while then, if you like.”
His only answer is a soft kiss on the back of his neck, and Kurt doesn’t quite manage to stop the sigh that escapes him. It’s not as though Puck doesn’t know how much Kurt enjoys this, but it feels selfish to keep letting Puck take care of him this way. To keep depending on him to make everything better, to ask him to give up his free time and his friends and whatever it was he did with himself before Kurt.
“There’s this party Sunday night.”
As soon as he registers the words Kurt tenses, wings fluttering under Puck’s touch, and when Puck makes a soothing noise and runs his hands along the ridges, Kurt feels himself blush.
“Oh?” he says, keeping his voice as even as he can, because it’s not as though he can expect Puck to give up everything. If he wants to go to some party...well, it’s no different than Blaine going out without him, and Kurt didn’t have a choice but to accept it then, either.
“Yeah. I would have mentioned it earlier, but Finn just told me about it today. I guess what’s left of New Directions is getting together at Schue’s place, one last blowout or whatever before Finn goes off to basic training. Not that it’ll be much of a blowout considering Schue’s going to be there, but everybody already knows about these,” Puck says, pausing to stroke his palms down the center of Kurt’s wings, “and they know they can’t touch you, so it should be pretty safe.”
When he realizes that Puck’s expecting Kurt to go to the party with him, Kurt feels some of the tension drain out of him, but a second later it’s right back again. “Do the rest of them know about us?”
That’s one of those things they haven’t talked about; so far it hasn’t been important, because no one besides Kurt’s family ever sees them together. Even Puck’s mother probably assumes he’s moved into their house to spend as much time with Finn as he can before he leaves, and all Blaine knows for sure is that Puck can touch him and Blaine can’t.
Up to now he hasn’t stopped to wonder if Puck wants people knowing about them, or if his plans to move in with Kurt involve pretending Kurt’s just his weird, reclusive roommate until they’re behind closed doors.
But Puck’s been surprising him since this whole thing started, which is why Kurt really shouldn’t be surprised when he brushes a kiss against Kurt’s neck this time and says, “Most of them, yeah.”
“Really?” Kurt says, then he does pull away to look at Puck, turning until they’re face to face. “How?”
“Word gets around,” Puck answers, and it’s a vague enough answer to make Kurt wonder what he’s not saying. “Why? That a problem?”
“No,” Kurt says, because it’s not, at least not for him, but he expected Puck to be less than comfortable with it. “I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”
“You sure it’s not because Blaine’s going to be there?”
“No, of course not,” Kurt answers automatically, then he frowns when he realizes he hasn’t even been thinking about the fact that Blaine’s likely to show up at a New Directions party. He’s still a member of New Directions, after all, and he and Finn got along fairly well, for the most part, so there’s no reason to expect him not to be there. Except that Kurt hasn’t heard a word from him since Blaine walked in on him and Puck; technically they never even broke up, though the fact that Kurt’s currently sharing a bed with someone else is probably a deal-breaker.
Puck’s watching him like he doesn’t really believe Kurt, and that’s just ridiculous, because it’s not as though Kurt fought to hold onto his relationship with Blaine. He’s been too busy working out his relationship with Puck, trying to figure out what it all means and whether or not any of the things he’s feeling are real.
“To be honest, I thought maybe you wouldn’t want people to know. I’m not exactly your usual type, after all.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know as much about me as you think,” Puck says, then he drags Kurt forward to kiss him. His hand slides into Kurt’s hair to tilt his head just so, lips parting and tongue sliding along Kurt’s bottom lip to tease his mouth open.
Kurt moans into the kiss and grips Puck’s shoulders, fingers digging in to push him back against the seat. He swings one leg over Puck’s thighs and lets Puck pull him forward, hands on his hips and dragging Kurt down onto his lap to rock up against him. Kurt’s wings spread out behind him, filling up the space between the rows of seats and if anyone walked by and looked in they’d probably be able to see them.
But he can’t bring himself to care, and even if he wanted to he knows he wouldn’t be able to get them under control now. Not when Puck’s hands are sliding up his back to push through his feathers and tugging, just a little, as though he’s letting Kurt know how much he likes this. How much he likes Kurt’s wings, and Kurt laughs against his mouth and pulls back to look at him.
“Sometimes I think maybe you and my wings would like to be alone.”
He expects a laugh, maybe some perverse comment about what Puck would like to do with his wings, exactly. Instead Puck’s hands leave his wings altogether, sliding down his back to settle on his hips again while he looks up at Kurt.
“I like them,” he says, fingers curling into the fabric of Kurt’s jeans and holding him there while Puck rocks up against him. “But I like the rest of you too.”
He’s not sure why he blushes. It’s not as though he doesn’t know Puck finds him attractive, or even that he enjoys Kurt’s company. He’d have to, considering how much time they’ve spent together over the summer, but that doesn’t stop heat from spreading down Kurt’s chest and all the way to the tips of his ears.
His wings flap softly behind him, heart stuttering in his chest, and if there was any room at all in the car Kurt could almost believe he’d be able to lift off the seat. He presses his hands to Puck’s cheeks, thumbs tracing the line of his cheekbones as he leans in and kisses Puck again. Slow this time, soft and open and memorizing the way Puck feels against him. The way his thighs shake between Kurt’s knees and the way he grinds their dicks together through their jeans, and even the low, tortured moans he’s making in the back of his throat.
Kurt hears Puck murmur his name and his heart beats even harder, and he knows he’s going to come in his pants right here in the back seat of his car, but he doesn’t care, because Puck’s still rocking against him and making needy noises that go straight to Kurt’s cock every time.
Puck’s not pushing for more; he seems content to rock against Kurt, hips moving in lazy circles while they kiss. He’s not touching Kurt’s wings anymore, and Kurt knows it’s his own fault for…well, sort of complaining, but he can’t figure out how to get Puck to touch them again without just coming right out and asking.
Without admitting how much he likes that Puck likes his wings, how much he likes the slide of Puck’s fingers through his feathers and the way he grips the joints exactly hard enough without ever pressing hard enough to hurt. As though he knows somehow just what to do, and Kurt knows it’s impossible, but when Puck’s touching him it’s just a little easier to buy his theory about the universe wanting them together.
Puck’s fingers brush the tips of his feathers as though he can’t help himself, and Kurt swallows the shiver that rolls down his spine.
“You can,” he whispers against Puck’s mouth. “I want you to.”
The groan Puck lets out sounds painful, but his hands slide up Kurt’s spine to grip the joints of his wings, fingers curling around them and holding on, pulling Kurt down a little harder into his lap as Puck rocks up against him.
“What’s it feel like?”
“I already told you,” Kurt says, impatient, because they’ve already had this conversation, and the last thing Kurt feels like doing is explaining all over again what it’s like to be saddled with a mostly useless set of wings.
“No,” Puck says, his fingers tightening just enough to drag a moan out of Kurt, “What’s it feel like when I touch them?”
There are a hundred ways Kurt could answer that question. A thousand, each more humiliating than the last, but every one of them would be true. Being touched by Puck is exhilarating and confusing, it’s comforting and electric and he’ll never get enough of it. It feels right in a way Kurt can’t explain, in a way he knows he doesn’t have to, because Puck already knows.
But he doesn’t say any of that; he can’t, because he’s too busy gasping Puck’s name against his mouth and grinding down hard and coming in his jeans.
It should be embarrassing. It is embarrassing, but even as Kurt presses his forehead to Puck’s shoulder to hide his blush, Puck’s hands are moving again, stroking along his feathers while he tries to catch his breath.
“Do you remember when I told you that I had dreams sometimes, about someone touching them?”
“Yeah, babe,” Puck answers, his voice close to Kurt’s ear.
“It was you, in my dreams. I didn’t realize until you touched them the first time, but as soon as you did, I knew it was you.”
“Told you somebody’s been trying to tell us something,” Puck says, and Kurt can’t help snorting a laugh against his shoulder. Because destiny is a ridiculous, romantic concept, but he’s the one who’s been dreaming about Puck’s hands.
He lifts his face from Puck’s shoulder and turns into him, pressing their lips together to kiss Puck slow. Puck’s still moving under him, hips thrusting lazily as though he’s not in any hurry. As though they have all the time in the world, and in some ways they do, but Kurt’s dad won’t be thrilled if they stay out until all hours without telling him.
Kurt flexes his wings until Puck’s hands slide free of his feathers, then he slides off Puck’s lap to kneel in between his thighs, hands on Puck’s jeans and looking up at him. He sees the moment Puck realizes what he’s got in mind, comprehension followed quickly by desire as Puck reaches down to tug his jeans open and pull his cock out.
Puck’s watching him through half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide and his legs spreading a little further as Kurt pushes up on his knees and closes a hand around Puck’s erection. He strokes a few times, grip loose and just watching as Puck’s mouth drops open.
“Babe, please,” Puck says, and he sounds so needy that Kurt doesn’t even think about teasing him. Instead he takes a deep breath and leans in to lick a hot stripe from the base of Puck’s cock all the way to the tip. His lips close around the head, tongue teasing Puck’s slit before he slides his lips as far down as he can go.
He hasn’t done this all that often, and he’s fairly sure he’s not that good at it. Puck’s probably been on the receiving end of much more talented lovers than Kurt, but he hasn’t complained so far, and when his hand slides into Kurt’s hair to trace the tip of his ear, Kurt thinks that maybe Puck doesn’t mind so much that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing.
His hips are moving minutely, thrusting up softly into the warmth of Kurt’s mouth as though he’s struggling not to move too fast and choke Kurt. Or maybe he’s just trying to make it last, but he’s been hard for awhile now, so Kurt’s not surprised that it doesn’t take long for his breathing to change and his hips to start moving a little more erratically.
“Fuck,” Puck murmurs, teeth clenched and his fingers tightening in Kurt’s hair for just a second before he relaxes again. “Kurt…”
He can’t tell if Puck’s trying to get his attention or just begging for more, but Kurt picks up speed anyway, cheeks hollowed to suck hard and twisting his grip just a little. When Puck moans above him Kurt’s wings stretch out, arching up over his shoulders to curve around both of them. Puck’s free hand comes up to slide along Kurt’s right wing, fingers curling around the ridge and holding on as he arches up and comes with a groan.
Kurt swallows around him, then again, pulling off just enough to keep from choking while he waits for Puck to stop shaking. His hand’s still moving on Puck’s cock, grip loose as he lets Puck slip out of his mouth and reaches up to wipe at his mouth with his free hand.
“Babe,” Puck says, voice rough, then he reaches for Kurt’s arm and drags him up until they’re kissing again. His tongue pushes past Kurt’s teeth to chase the flavor of his own come, hands sliding into Kurt’s feathers and pulling him close. “I…”
He doesn’t know for sure what Puck’s about to say. He’s not sure he’d even be able to hear it over the sound of his heartbeat, but Kurt’s not willing to take the chance. He pushes forward before Puck can finish his thought, lips pressed together and kissing Puck hard. It’s wet and messy, teeth clacking and his fingers gripping Puck’s shoulders too hard until Puck gives up on talking altogether and gives himself over to the kiss.
His hands slide down Kurt’s back to curve around his waist, dragging him close and mouthing his way along Kurt’s jaw to suck at the underside of Kurt’s chin. “Kurt…”
“We should stop at the drugstore on the way home,” Kurt interrupts, pulling back to trace his fingers over Puck’s kiss-red lips.
“What for?” Puck asks, his lips moving against Kurt’s fingertips and sending a shiver down Kurt’s spine.
“As much as I enjoy the moisturizing qualities of my forty dollar an ounce eye cream, it would be more economical to pick up some actual lube.”
“Oh,” Puck says, frowning for a second before he straightens up a little and adds, “Oh. Yeah. You’re right, we should probably head back.”
Kurt laughs and lets Puck push him off, watching while Puck tucks himself back in and zips up his jeans. He spares a moment of regret that he didn’t think to stop on the way out to the lake, but when Puck sits up and reaches out to run a hand along his wing, he decides it doesn’t really matter.
“You want to drive?” Puck asks, eyeing Kurt’s jacket where it’s still lying over the middle seat where Kurt put it.
Kurt shakes his head, then he reaches for his keys and holds them up. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to the idea of letting you drive my car anyway.”
“Why’s that?” Puck asks, but he reaches out for the keys as though maybe he’s worried that Kurt’s going to change his mind.
“Because you’re going to have to drive yourself to the shop if you’re going to come home for lunch every day.”
“What’s lunch got…oh,” Puck says, eyes going a little wide when he realizes what Kurt’s saying. And it’s not a perfect solution, but it’s the best they’ve got, at least until they figure out some way to be apart for longer than a few hours.
Before Kurt can answer Puck’s pushing forward, arm around his waist and dragging him close to kiss him again. “Yeah,” he says, and “okay,” and “whatever you want, babe,” and Kurt knows without a doubt that he means it.
~
Rather than put his jacket back on and worry about accidentally touching anyone who isn’t Puck, Kurt lets him go into the drugstore alone. He comes back out with three different kinds of lube and another box of condoms, and when Kurt raises an eyebrow at him, Puck just shrugs and says, “I figured we should try a few kinds, see which one works the best.”
Personally, Kurt thinks three kinds of lube is overkill, because how different can they actually be? But as it turns out, Puck has a good point, because the first brand is too sticky and requires that they stop and reapply far too often for Kurt’s liking. Not that he minds taking their time, but it’s just not practical when Puck’s only got an hour for lunch.
Not that they spend all of his lunch hours tearing each other’s clothes off. The first time Puck comes home in the middle of the day Kurt actually feeds him, then they sit at the kitchen table talking about the junker Kurt’s dad has Puck practicing on and the problems he’s having with it. Kurt gives him some tips, and Puck nods as though he’s actually listening.
They spend almost the entire time touching, fingers brushing the back of a hand or a thigh or a forearm. Every so often Puck leans in to press a kiss to the side of Kurt’s neck, and once or twice Kurt stops talking long enough to turn into Puck and kiss him thoroughly. When Puck has to go Kurt walks him to the door, presses him up against it and kisses him hard, and when Puck finally tears himself away and slips out the door Kurt’s wings are vibrating.
He spends the rest of the afternoon feeling weirdly unsettled, and when Puck gets home at the end of the day he drags Kurt up to their room and spends the rest of the night pressing kisses to every inch of Kurt’s skin. They never make it down to dinner, and none of Kurt’s family is reckless enough to come looking for them.
Later, when Puck’s snoring softly next to him, Kurt lies on his side in the dark, hand pressed to the center of Puck’s chest and listening to their hearts beat in time with one another. It’s the first time he’s ever stayed up to watch Puck sleep, and he knows it’s ridiculous, because Puck’s right there, but he can’t bring himself to close his eyes.
Kurt had hoped that seeing Puck in the middle of the day would be enough, that if he could just talk to Puck and touch him for a while, that it would be easier to get through the rest of the day alone. But it seems as though the more time they spend together, the more Kurt needs, and the thought of Puck getting up in the morning and going back to the shop makes Kurt’s chest ache even though Puck’s still lying right next to him.
The next day goes more or less the same way, except that when Puck gets home at lunchtime, he just shakes his head at Kurt’s offer of food and steers him into the living room. They spend nearly an hour making out on the couch, hands pushing under clothing to get at bare skin, and by the time Puck has to go back to work, they’ve managed to get mostly naked without ever letting go of each other.
But it’s still not enough, and when Puck leaves this time Kurt’s chest aches so much that he has to blink back frustrated tears. None of this should be happening; it should be getting easier, because he knows exactly where Puck is, and he knows Puck’s coming back. His wings don’t seem to understand, though, because as soon as Puck leaves they wilt against his back, pining, apparently, and Kurt knows better than to try to talk any sense into them.
On the third day, Kurt drags Puck straight to their room as soon as he gets home. This time he does tear all their clothes off, then he reaches for the lube they both like best and shoves Puck down onto the mattress to straddle his thighs. Later he won’t be able to say what comes over him; he’s never been so forward, and he’s certainly never been sure of himself when it comes to this sort of thing.
Still, Puck’s not complaining. In fact, he seems as desperate as Kurt to get as close together as possible, to make the most of the little time they have before he has to leave again. His hands are everywhere, touching Kurt’s hips and his chest and his face and finally his wings, fingers sliding through the feathers as Kurt lines himself up and sinks down onto Puck’s cock.
He hooks his hands around the back of Puck’s neck, holding on and moving fast, and he knows it’s going to hurt later, but he doesn’t care. He wants to feel it when Puck’s back at the shop, hopes that maybe if he can still feel Puck on him - in him - that it won’t hurt so much when he’s gone.
Puck’s talking, things like fuck and come on and you’re so fucking hot and Kurt blushes, but he doesn’t stop moving. His thighs feel like they’re on fire, but still he doesn’t slow down, because they don’t have much time and anyway he needs this.
“Puck,” Kurt gasps, leaning in to kiss him hard, breathing against his mouth and when Puck reaches between them and grips his cock, Kurt lets out a moan and comes in his hand.
He clenches around Puck, dragging a moan out of him, then Puck thrusts up hard one more time and lets go. It’s over way too soon, but he knows they’re almost out of time, and as soon as he thinks it the familiar ache settles in his chest again.
“It’s not getting better,” Kurt says, face pressed against Puck’s shoulder, and he’s even sure he’s said it out loud until Puck’s arms slide around his back to hold him close.
“I know, babe,” Puck answers, turning into Kurt to brush a kiss across his forehead. Another kiss lands on his cheek, then his jaw and down his neck until Puck’s sucking hard at his skin, and Kurt doesn’t even try to stop him from leaving a mark.
“I’ll talk to my dad,” Kurt says, voice coming out breathy and strained as he tilts his head to give Puck more room to work. “Maybe he’ll let you work late tomorrow so I can come with you.”
Puck’s nodding against him, hands sliding up his back to grip the joints of his wings, and Kurt sucks in a sharp breath and clenches around the cock still buried inside him. He feels Puck moan against his neck and turns into him, pressing their lips together and kissing him hard.
It’s an empty promise, because they both know they can’t go on like this. Neither of them can have any kind of a life if they can’t even stand to be apart for a few hours, and nothing they’ve tried so far has made it any better. His father’s trying to understand, but Kurt can’t expect him to understand this when he doesn’t understand it himself. He has no idea why this is happening, why the connection’s getting more intense the closer they get to one another.
“You have to go,” he whispers, and he wants to laugh, because it’s so ridiculous, but he can’t help feeling like he’s being ripped apart.
“I’ll be back soon,” Puck says, kissing his way back up Kurt’s jaw to press their lips together again.
Kurt nods and kisses him back, wings fluttering impatiently behind him, and Kurt knows it’s not going to be anywhere near enough.
~
As it turns out, hanging out after hours in the shop with Puck is kind of fun.
Kurt’s never been all that crazy about fixing cars. He’s good at it, which is why his father didn’t complain too much during high school when Kurt picked up shifts to earn money for whatever outfit he had his heart set on. But his heart’s never been in it, not the way his dad’s has always been.
Puck seems to enjoy it, though, and Kurt’s not too proud to admit that he enjoys watching Puck enjoy something he has a natural talent for. And he does; he’s not a mechanical genius or anything, but he’s good with his hands, and he’s a fast learner when he’s interested in the subject at hand.
Seeing him like this makes it worth the painful conversation Kurt had with his father in order to convince him that he should let Kurt and Puck work unsupervised after hours. Puck still doesn’t really know what he’s doing, and Kurt’s not exactly an expert, but the truth is that this was all his dad’s idea, so in the end he gives in and lets them have some time alone.
Finn tries to invite himself along, but it’s Puck who puts an end to that by telling him bluntly that he’s not invited. And it’s not as though they’ve spent the whole night making out or anything, but it’s been nice, just the two of them, fingers brushing as they pass tools back and forth. Puck’s hand rests on Kurt’s back while Kurt leans in to explain the best way to disconnect a radiator, and when his wing get a little too close to a spot of engine grease, it’s Puck who lifts it out of harm’s way.
“Careful, babe,” he says, his fingers lingering for a moment or two before he lets go. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Can we even get grease out of your feathers?”
Kurt nods, cheeks burning, because he’s googled this, too. “Apparently dishwashing liquid works best. You know, like in the commercials with the penguins that got caught in that oil spill.”
He expects Puck to laugh, but he just nods and leans against the hood to look at Kurt. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Though I’d just as soon not have to find out how well it really works,” Kurt says, frowning over his shoulder at his wings as though they’ve personally offended him. “I suppose I could try a pair of coveralls.”
He assumes they’ll be just as irritating as the jacket he tried the other night, but it’ll be worth a little irritation to avoid having to wash grease out of his wings. Not that he hates the idea of having another excuse to shower with Puck, but he’d just as soon they didn’t have to spend it scrubbing Kurt’s feathers.
He finds his old coveralls hanging on a hook near the lockers at the back of the garage, pulling them up to his waist before he crosses back to the car where Puck’s still leaning on the hood and watching him. “Would you mind…?”
Puck pushes himself off the car when Kurt turns his back, holding up the top of the coveralls and letting Kurt slide one arm into a sleeve. He’s careful to make sure Kurt’s feathers don’t get ruffled by the fabric, and once Kurt’s got his other arm safely in the sleeve, Puck turns him until they’re face to face and reaches down to zip him up.
“Damn, Kurt.”
“What?” Kurt asks, but he’s blushing already, and when Puck leans in to kiss him, Kurt doesn’t try to stop him.
“You look hot,” Puck answers, hands on Kurt’s hips and dragging him close, and Kurt’s not about to admit it or anything, but he’s had a few fantasies that started out this way.
“In a grease-covered pair of coveralls,” Kurt says, but he’s already picturing Puck wearing a pair of coveralls of his own, and he has to admit he can see the appeal.
“Yeah.” Puck breathes the word against his neck, lips brushing his skin and his hands moving like they can’t decide where to touch first. Like they’re thinking about peeling Kurt’s coveralls right back off him again, and it’s the first time Puck’s claimed to find him attractive when he can’t see Kurt’s wings.
It shouldn’t matter, because they’re still there, and it’s not as though Puck doesn’t know it. But somehow it makes Kurt feel a little better, a little less like this is all just some bizarre wing-related fetish on Puck’s part and more like he actually wants Kurt.
“Do you have some carefully hidden tradesman fetish I should know about?” Kurt asks, but his voice is breathy and he’s not entirely sure he wants to hear the answer.
“Huh?” Puck says, his forehead pulling down into a confused frown that probably won’t even leave wrinkles, because Puck’s going to be one of those men who keeps his looks without any effort whatsoever. The fact that Kurt might actually be around to see him age gracefully makes Kurt’s heart pick up speed, and he’s too distracted by the thought to argue when Puck stops kissing him.
“Look, all I know is that it’s a total turn-on that you’re badass enough to fix an engine.”
“Finn can fix an engine too,” Kurt says. “Sort of, anyway. My dad definitely can.”
Puck rolls his eyes, then he slides his hand up Kurt’s back to rest a palm carefully against the spot just below his wing joints. “Yeah, but you’re the only one who’s badass enough to fix an engine and pull off a pair of wings.”
Kurt thinks about pointing out that it’s only because he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. It’s not as though he asked for wings, and if there was a way to get rid of them, he’d have done it when they first appeared. But he’s passed up a chance since then, and he’s already promised Puck that he won’t try to get rid of them, so maybe Puck has a point.
“So you’re saying that if my father had wings, you’d be dating him instead?”
“I already told you, it’s not about the wings.” Puck shrugs and lets go of Kurt, hand coming up to rest on the back of his neck. “Truth is, I wanted you before all that.”
Kurt remembers what Finn said about Puck and his tendency to develop inappropriate crushes. The word Finn used was ‘obsession’, but to Kurt it’s always seemed as though Puck only wants what he can’t have. Only he’s got Kurt now, and he’s the one with all the choices here, so maybe it’s not as simple as that after all.
“I had no idea. I didn’t even consider it a possibility,” Kurt says, and it’s the truth, but he can tell by the look on Puck’s face that it’s not what he wants to hear. “But if this was going to happen with anyone, I’m not sorry that it’s you.”
“But you wouldn’t have picked me.”
It’s not a question; they both know Kurt wouldn’t have chosen Puck, if he’d had a choice. He wouldn’t even have known Puck was an option, so maybe that’s where Puck’s destiny theory comes in. Something out there took the choice out of his hands for a reason, and Kurt still doesn’t believe in fate or God or whatever Puck’s calling it today, but he can’t deny that there’s something real between them.
“Maybe that’s why the choice wasn’t left up to me.”
Puck huffs a laugh Kurt can tell he doesn’t really mean, but he doesn’t move away when Kurt takes a few steps forward. His hands land on Puck’s arms to drag them around him, then he presses forward to brush his lips along Puck’s jaw. When Puck’s arms tighten around him Kurt lets out a breath and slides his hands up Puck’s chest to grip the front of his t-shirt.
“Puck,” Kurt whispers, face turned into Puck’s neck and mouthing the words against his skin. The arms around his waist tighten again, and Kurt sighs into his neck and breathes in the familiar scents of sweat and boy and engine grease. “Can we just go home?”
For a moment he thinks Puck’s going to say no, that he needs some time apart to try to figure out what they’re doing. But they’ve been trying to figure it out since it started with no luck, so Kurt doesn’t see how time apart will make it any better. Not when it always leaves him feeling tense and hollow and distracted, as though something’s missing that he might not ever get back.
Puck’s arms leave his waist and Kurt braces himself for the inevitable, but instead of letting go Puck reaches out to tug at the zipper on Kurt’s coveralls. “Can we keep the uniform?”
“If it means that much to you,” Kurt says, but what he means is yes and anything and whatever you say.
Though maybe Puck understands him anyway, because he grins and drags Kurt forward to kiss him hard before he answers.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, breath warm against Kurt’s lips and sending shivers down his spine. “Let’s go home.”
Part Six