Fairy Boy - Two
Title: Fairy Boy aka "Waiting for my Fairy Godmother to Arrive"
Author: FearfulLT
Rating: Pg-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Blaine (sorta), Kurt/Puck endgame.
Genre: Drama/Angst
Warning: Fairies, silliness, and a general lack of respect for canon.
Spoilers: Set somewhere in season two.
Disclaimer: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment.
Author Notes: Sorry for the short delay in posting this time, I was distracted by nefariously addictive craft projects. I promise it wont happen again... Unless someone buys me a glue gun.
Summary: Original summary, modified summary - The troublemaker sprite Puck has just one chance left to avoid exile. The task? Be a fairy godmother and find this Hummel kid True Love. Before prom night. Sure... no problem.
Word Count: 1628
-
Puck didn’t bother with complex schemes when it came to the third boy. He just waited until he and Kurt were close by, then asked; “How about that one?”
Kurt wrinkled his nose, gave Puck a pointed look, and walked away.
Puck crossed the name off the list.
-
Puck caught the fourth boy puking up his lunch in a public bathroom and decided then and there that the kid wasn’t good enough for Kurt. “Get some self esteem, loser,” he muttered, and flew away.
-
He tried three times to get the fifth kid to even set foot in Lima, and twice to get Kurt to meet him half way before he just gave up on the fifth boy. And by the time he got to the sixth the boy in question had already hooked up with some college kid with blonde hair and tattoos.
Exasperated, Puck gave up on chasing down leads for the afternoon and instead decided to go bug his charge. (He had briefly contemplated going back to the Court and hanging out in the Raintree with a bottle of nectar but had decided the risk of being caught slacking off wasn’t quite worth it.) So that was how he found himself slipping through the open window and into the choir room of McKinley High. Invisible to the naked eye he slumped down in a seat in the back row and stretched out to watch the teens practice.
There were a surprising number of good voices in the small group, he noted, though not really good enough to compare with the singers at Court. There was also too much harmonising going on for him to be able to pick out Kurt’s voice amongst the group. At least until the song died down and most of the club members took their seats again. Puck found himself almost getting sat on and pulled a face at the boy he’d had to move for. Immature, but not like the guy even knew he was there.
He was so busy being annoyed at nearly being sat on that he almost missed it when for some reason or other Kurt began to sing a song by himself, accompanied only by the piano. That made Puck sit up straight and revise his opinion on whether any voice at McKinley could compare to the voices at Court.
When Kurt sat down again after a smattering of applause Puck shifted to the empty seat behind him. “You sound like a fairy,” Puck said quietly, leaning forward enough so that he could say it right into Kurt’s ear.
Offended, Kurt whipped around to look over his shoulder, ready to give whoever had spoken a piece of his mind. Until he saw nobody there. And realised that either he was hearing voices or he was hearing Puck. It disturbed him a little that neither option seemed out of the ordinary these days.
“That’s a compliment,” Puck added. “Coming from me.”
“Since you are a fairy,” Kurt muttered.
Beside him, Mercedes gave him a slightly odd look. “Did you say something?”
“No,” Kurt smiled at her, resisting the urge to react when he felt Puck poking at his hair, “nothing at all.”
“You’ve been acting kind of strange lately, you know,” Mercedes told him seriously.
“Have I?” Kurt asked, casually reaching up to fiddle with his hair (and swat Puck’s fingers away). “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Well anyway,” Mercedes said, picking up her bag, “just as long as you remember that I’m your girl, and even if you go crazy I still got your back. And we’re still on for mochas this Saturday.”
“Mochas on Saturday,” Kurt repeated dutifully.
The practice session had wound to a close, the other glee kids slowly making their way out of the choir room. Kurt purposefully packed up slowly, fussing about with his jacket, and then with his hair, until even Mr. Schuster and the pianist had left the room. Only when he was certain that he was alone did he turn back to look for Puck, eyes narrowed into a glare.
“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing here, at my school? In the middle of Glee?”
He didn’t get a reply straight away and for a moment Kurt was afraid that he’d been speaking to an empty room. Then Puck materialised in that strange way he had, seated on a chair in the back row, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, wings casually flared. Kurt was so used to seeing them now that they didn’t even register as odd. He shrugged. “I got bored.”
“You got bored?” Kurt repeated dryly. “What do you even do all day that you could be bored of? So far as I can tell you don’t exactly do much, you just follow me around and pester me into buying you junk food.”
“Excuse me?” Puck glowered at him. “Dude. I’ve been working. I’ve been working hard.”
“Oh, right. Doing what?” Kurt asked, hands on hips. He realised it wasn’t very mature, but for some reason Puck just seemed to bring out that side of him. The side that made him want to put his hands on his hips and say ‘I know you are but what am I’ whenever the ‘f’ word came up in conversation.
“Looking for your One True Love,” Puck replied flatly.
Kurt’s hands fell from their perch on his hips and hung limply at his sides instead. “Oh,” he said eloquently.
“It’s full time, it’s got a shit-ton of travel, and it’s hard work,” Puck added, “so don’t bitch at me for getting bored and wanting to hang out with you for a few minutes. Anyway,” he added, standing up so he could clomp down the stairs, “there’s only one guy left to look at before I have to widen my damn search area.”
Despite himself Kurt felt his cheeks begin to heat up a little. “One boy left?”
“Yeah. Some rich kid in a boarding school near here. Seventeen,” Puck said, holding up a hand to tick off the qualities on his fingers, “one hundred percent gay, musical, decent IQ, single. And I hear he aint exactly an eyesore either.”
“Oh,” Kurt said again. “Well... he certainly sounds like he fits the bill.”
“Yeah,” Puck agreed. “So now the next step is getting you two in the same room so we can see if you have any chemistry together.”
“Oh.” Again. Kurt hesitated, then found himself asking; “Weren’t any of the others good enough to get to step two?” (He floundered a little on the word ‘others’, still not used to the idea that there could actually be multiple boys to sort through.)
The fairy snorted, rolling his eyes. “I got, like, three of them close to you and they didn’t even register on your radar. If you’re not even gonna check them out then obviously they’re not gonna be The One.”
“Then I suppose... I should look into meeting this last candidate.”
“Later,” Puck dismissed the idea. “Tomorrow, whatever. It’s too late to sneak into that fancy pants school anyway. I mean, I could get you in but you wouldn’t exactly blend in.”
“Tomorrow then,” Kurt agreed. He checked his wrist watch and sighed. “I should get moving if I want to catch the bus. Unless you can get me home.”
“I could,” Puck hedged, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants (he was actually wearing pants, Kurt noted, and not another one of those ridiculous punk kilts), “but it’s not recommended. You might throw up.”
Kurt considered it for just a moment, but no matter how tempting the prospect of being home in an instant the idea of throwing up made it profoundly less attractive. He sighed and started towards the bus stop, his fairy godmother trailing along behind him. “I didn’t know teleportation was so dangerous,” he commented on the way.
“It’s not teleporting,” the fairy explained. “If it was there’d be no problems. But fairies don’t teleport, Kurt. We fly. You know, with these.”
Puck jerked a thumb back over his shoulder, wings fluttering a little. Kurt eyed the transparent, flimsy dragonfly-wings and arched an eyebrow. Honestly he couldn’t see how on earth those things would even carry Puck’s weight, let alone the weight of another person on top of that. “A magic thing?” he guessed, starting to get an idea of why exactly he might throw up if Puck ever wanted to take him flying.
“They’re stronger than they look.”
“I’d still rather not, if that’s alright with you.”
“Hey, whatever floats your boat.” Puck flashed a bus pass at the driver as he stepped onto the bus.
Kurt was surprised a moment when the driver nodded and waved him on before he realised this must mean that Puck had dropped the invisibility act. He took a seat somewhere in the middle of the bus, only a little surprised when Puck took the seat beside him. “Not afraid to be seen with me?” Kurt joked. “I might ruin your image.”
“Nah,” Puck shrugged, slumping comfortably in the seat. “I’m just glad you don’t think I’ll ruin yours.”
“My image?” Kurt gave him a sarcastic smile. “I wasn’t aware that I had one.”
“You sort of give off a flaming gay ice queen vibe,” Puck said thoughtfully.
Kurt slapped his arm. “And yet you’re the one who wants to hang out with me,” he pointed out with a smirk, and an odd warm fuzzy tingle in his stomach as it actually hit home. Puck wanted to hang out with him. Otherwise why would he be around so often when he didn’t have to? “So what does that make you?”
“Liberal,” Puck answered immediately, making Kurt laugh.
Author: FearfulLT
Rating: Pg-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Blaine (sorta), Kurt/Puck endgame.
Genre: Drama/Angst
Warning: Fairies, silliness, and a general lack of respect for canon.
Spoilers: Set somewhere in season two.
Disclaimer: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment.
Author Notes: Sorry for the short delay in posting this time, I was distracted by nefariously addictive craft projects. I promise it wont happen again... Unless someone buys me a glue gun.
Summary: Original summary, modified summary - The troublemaker sprite Puck has just one chance left to avoid exile. The task? Be a fairy godmother and find this Hummel kid True Love. Before prom night. Sure... no problem.
Word Count: 1628
-
Puck didn’t bother with complex schemes when it came to the third boy. He just waited until he and Kurt were close by, then asked; “How about that one?”
Kurt wrinkled his nose, gave Puck a pointed look, and walked away.
Puck crossed the name off the list.
-
Puck caught the fourth boy puking up his lunch in a public bathroom and decided then and there that the kid wasn’t good enough for Kurt. “Get some self esteem, loser,” he muttered, and flew away.
-
He tried three times to get the fifth kid to even set foot in Lima, and twice to get Kurt to meet him half way before he just gave up on the fifth boy. And by the time he got to the sixth the boy in question had already hooked up with some college kid with blonde hair and tattoos.
Exasperated, Puck gave up on chasing down leads for the afternoon and instead decided to go bug his charge. (He had briefly contemplated going back to the Court and hanging out in the Raintree with a bottle of nectar but had decided the risk of being caught slacking off wasn’t quite worth it.) So that was how he found himself slipping through the open window and into the choir room of McKinley High. Invisible to the naked eye he slumped down in a seat in the back row and stretched out to watch the teens practice.
There were a surprising number of good voices in the small group, he noted, though not really good enough to compare with the singers at Court. There was also too much harmonising going on for him to be able to pick out Kurt’s voice amongst the group. At least until the song died down and most of the club members took their seats again. Puck found himself almost getting sat on and pulled a face at the boy he’d had to move for. Immature, but not like the guy even knew he was there.
He was so busy being annoyed at nearly being sat on that he almost missed it when for some reason or other Kurt began to sing a song by himself, accompanied only by the piano. That made Puck sit up straight and revise his opinion on whether any voice at McKinley could compare to the voices at Court.
When Kurt sat down again after a smattering of applause Puck shifted to the empty seat behind him. “You sound like a fairy,” Puck said quietly, leaning forward enough so that he could say it right into Kurt’s ear.
Offended, Kurt whipped around to look over his shoulder, ready to give whoever had spoken a piece of his mind. Until he saw nobody there. And realised that either he was hearing voices or he was hearing Puck. It disturbed him a little that neither option seemed out of the ordinary these days.
“That’s a compliment,” Puck added. “Coming from me.”
“Since you are a fairy,” Kurt muttered.
Beside him, Mercedes gave him a slightly odd look. “Did you say something?”
“No,” Kurt smiled at her, resisting the urge to react when he felt Puck poking at his hair, “nothing at all.”
“You’ve been acting kind of strange lately, you know,” Mercedes told him seriously.
“Have I?” Kurt asked, casually reaching up to fiddle with his hair (and swat Puck’s fingers away). “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Well anyway,” Mercedes said, picking up her bag, “just as long as you remember that I’m your girl, and even if you go crazy I still got your back. And we’re still on for mochas this Saturday.”
“Mochas on Saturday,” Kurt repeated dutifully.
The practice session had wound to a close, the other glee kids slowly making their way out of the choir room. Kurt purposefully packed up slowly, fussing about with his jacket, and then with his hair, until even Mr. Schuster and the pianist had left the room. Only when he was certain that he was alone did he turn back to look for Puck, eyes narrowed into a glare.
“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing here, at my school? In the middle of Glee?”
He didn’t get a reply straight away and for a moment Kurt was afraid that he’d been speaking to an empty room. Then Puck materialised in that strange way he had, seated on a chair in the back row, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, wings casually flared. Kurt was so used to seeing them now that they didn’t even register as odd. He shrugged. “I got bored.”
“You got bored?” Kurt repeated dryly. “What do you even do all day that you could be bored of? So far as I can tell you don’t exactly do much, you just follow me around and pester me into buying you junk food.”
“Excuse me?” Puck glowered at him. “Dude. I’ve been working. I’ve been working hard.”
“Oh, right. Doing what?” Kurt asked, hands on hips. He realised it wasn’t very mature, but for some reason Puck just seemed to bring out that side of him. The side that made him want to put his hands on his hips and say ‘I know you are but what am I’ whenever the ‘f’ word came up in conversation.
“Looking for your One True Love,” Puck replied flatly.
Kurt’s hands fell from their perch on his hips and hung limply at his sides instead. “Oh,” he said eloquently.
“It’s full time, it’s got a shit-ton of travel, and it’s hard work,” Puck added, “so don’t bitch at me for getting bored and wanting to hang out with you for a few minutes. Anyway,” he added, standing up so he could clomp down the stairs, “there’s only one guy left to look at before I have to widen my damn search area.”
Despite himself Kurt felt his cheeks begin to heat up a little. “One boy left?”
“Yeah. Some rich kid in a boarding school near here. Seventeen,” Puck said, holding up a hand to tick off the qualities on his fingers, “one hundred percent gay, musical, decent IQ, single. And I hear he aint exactly an eyesore either.”
“Oh,” Kurt said again. “Well... he certainly sounds like he fits the bill.”
“Yeah,” Puck agreed. “So now the next step is getting you two in the same room so we can see if you have any chemistry together.”
“Oh.” Again. Kurt hesitated, then found himself asking; “Weren’t any of the others good enough to get to step two?” (He floundered a little on the word ‘others’, still not used to the idea that there could actually be multiple boys to sort through.)
The fairy snorted, rolling his eyes. “I got, like, three of them close to you and they didn’t even register on your radar. If you’re not even gonna check them out then obviously they’re not gonna be The One.”
“Then I suppose... I should look into meeting this last candidate.”
“Later,” Puck dismissed the idea. “Tomorrow, whatever. It’s too late to sneak into that fancy pants school anyway. I mean, I could get you in but you wouldn’t exactly blend in.”
“Tomorrow then,” Kurt agreed. He checked his wrist watch and sighed. “I should get moving if I want to catch the bus. Unless you can get me home.”
“I could,” Puck hedged, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants (he was actually wearing pants, Kurt noted, and not another one of those ridiculous punk kilts), “but it’s not recommended. You might throw up.”
Kurt considered it for just a moment, but no matter how tempting the prospect of being home in an instant the idea of throwing up made it profoundly less attractive. He sighed and started towards the bus stop, his fairy godmother trailing along behind him. “I didn’t know teleportation was so dangerous,” he commented on the way.
“It’s not teleporting,” the fairy explained. “If it was there’d be no problems. But fairies don’t teleport, Kurt. We fly. You know, with these.”
Puck jerked a thumb back over his shoulder, wings fluttering a little. Kurt eyed the transparent, flimsy dragonfly-wings and arched an eyebrow. Honestly he couldn’t see how on earth those things would even carry Puck’s weight, let alone the weight of another person on top of that. “A magic thing?” he guessed, starting to get an idea of why exactly he might throw up if Puck ever wanted to take him flying.
“They’re stronger than they look.”
“I’d still rather not, if that’s alright with you.”
“Hey, whatever floats your boat.” Puck flashed a bus pass at the driver as he stepped onto the bus.
Kurt was surprised a moment when the driver nodded and waved him on before he realised this must mean that Puck had dropped the invisibility act. He took a seat somewhere in the middle of the bus, only a little surprised when Puck took the seat beside him. “Not afraid to be seen with me?” Kurt joked. “I might ruin your image.”
“Nah,” Puck shrugged, slumping comfortably in the seat. “I’m just glad you don’t think I’ll ruin yours.”
“My image?” Kurt gave him a sarcastic smile. “I wasn’t aware that I had one.”
“You sort of give off a flaming gay ice queen vibe,” Puck said thoughtfully.
Kurt slapped his arm. “And yet you’re the one who wants to hang out with me,” he pointed out with a smirk, and an odd warm fuzzy tingle in his stomach as it actually hit home. Puck wanted to hang out with him. Otherwise why would he be around so often when he didn’t have to? “So what does that make you?”
“Liberal,” Puck answered immediately, making Kurt laugh.