V-DAY EXCHANGE FIC! Maybe This Time, for the community
Title: Maybe This Time
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Kurt
Warnings: Sexual references
Word count: 1300
Disclaimer: Glee is property of its respective owners and not myself.
Summary: Kurt hurts himself and Puck is there to help.
There’s nothing wrong with liking amazingly strong, muscular arms. It’s just weird when they’re the ones hoisting you over the rim of a dumpster, or soiling your flawlessly clean face with ice-cold cups of terror. Then, there is the incomparable smirk of triumph as he struts away that melts your heart beyond repair.
“Why d-d-do you let him do this to you, Kurt?” Tina dashed up to the disgruntled boy seconds after he was tossed into a set of lockers. He avoided her gaze, his eyes lingering upon Puck, who is pushing his way through the fatigued club members as they make their way out of McKinley’s chilly halls to their well-heated homes.
Maybe, you just like the way his eyes burn with some kind of passion, be it masochistic or otherwise, it makes you realize that you are getting some kind of attention from him, and in turn, Finn. Nevertheless, Finn can look past you; he’s seen through your vanity. Now, any kind of male attention can settle for you. It’s not your self-esteem or anything; it’s just the fact that it’s a difficult task for you to find a person to respond to your feelings and constant surging of hormones.
Kurt shrugs and thanks Tina for her consideration, but it doesn’t imprint on her. Artie wheels past the two, who are soon joined by Mercedes. Mercedes is full of energy, gushing about how Matt looks at her while they practice. Kurt is abnormally silent among their banter and just trudges along.
He doesn’t even notice when their hushed voices and decreasing speed until he trips down the stairs leading out of the school, splayed across the icy gravel. The last thing he noticed before his plummet was the back of a dark Mohawk descending into a beaten black car. It wasn’t the first time Kurt had fallen over today.
His friends rush to his aid and the rest of the witnesses’ follow, with Artie bringing up the rear. They were crowding around Kurt, uttering sweet coos and continually questioning him. Few were absent; Quinn, Finn, Puck, Matt and Mr. Schue had their heads stuck out of car windows, like giraffes. Puck and Matt slid back into the warmth of Puck’s car.
Kurt rose, merely nodding and wishing to get into his car before it started to rain. Though his dad took his baby away, Kurt managed to suffice, scooping up a courtesy car from the shop. He cracked open the door, and shut himself in, shoving his keys into the ignition to turn on the heater.
“I hate the cold,” Matt began, slowly rotating his hands in front of him, “it’s awful, don’t you think?” He hesitated, turning to look at Puck who had his eyes purely focused on the dashboard.
“I mean, Kurt slipped over, Rachel’s catching a cold and Santana’s being fussy about everything. Being able to sing and dance the cold away is the best part of the day, right?” Matt frowned when Puck’s response was just a nod.
“C’mon Puck, is something up with you? You said you were going to a pool cleaning appointment and it’s the middle of winter!”
“Let’s get out of here.” Puck’s anticlimactic reaction drew Matt’s attention away. Matt was now texting with madness, most likely messaging Mercedes, filling the moist air around them with the quick clicks of a text. Puck pulled out of the school’s parking lot, on his way to drop Matt home before doing whatever he damn well pleased.
Kurt lay back upon the leather upholstery, with the day’s stress and fatigue coming together on a miserably cold day. To top it all off, he may have sprained his ankle.
“Aren’t I lucky for you, you gorgeous boots?” He muttered, wincing at the thought of scuffing the precious Valentino pieces.
He readjusted himself and set off home, sitting amongst the staccato of the engine. The courtesy Corolla hummed its way along the school's tarmac, only to have Finn cut him off. Slamming his heel down on the brake, he cussed. Finn swore from behind his window and apologised, not realising that Kurt was withering into his chair.
Kurt almost wept.
Meanwhile, the others drove on. Puck was several blocks ahead of the pack, in a rush to drop Matt home before filling up his car. He really didn’t have any appointment, but it did sound like a good excuse. Since Valentine’s Day was coming up, he as a stud was looking forward to something a bit different. Cougars were getting old.
Kurt willed himself to continue driving, since he didn’t live that far away and it’s the easiest way to fix himself up. It was too much to bother his dad, who’d been working even more hours at the shop.
“Look at these bruises, man! Seriously, it’s worse than football training,” Matt stated.
“Dude, I’m four blocks away from your house. Could you shut up?” Puck spat.
“Hah, as if. It was insane - imagine the bruises Kurt would have after so many falls!”
“Oh yeah? I swear you pushed him at least once.” Puck was nearing his destination and the needle was running dangerously close to the E. Some unknown feeling brewed inside of him, causing him to cringe.
“No way, I slipped over and it wasn’t my fault, it was Finn.” He accused.
“Whatever.” Puck smirked.
Brakes squeaked as they reached the cobblestone driveway. Another screeching sound followed soon after, as Puck wanted to get somewhere, either home or a gas station, before he broke down.
Kurt was set on autopilot. He drifted along the roads on his way along his most frequented trip. Smooth tunes made its way into his mind as the perfect distraction from pain.
On the other hand, Puck had no clue where to go. Normally, he had no trouble making his way anywhere but without free hands or the desire to die by text message, he drove on, thinking he knew where he was. He gradually slowed and switched off the ignition. He idled, deciding on waiting or searching for someone to help despite the chilly conditions. Two bright headlights approached and halted his train of thought.
Kurt turned the final bend and closed in on his home. He sighed with contentment.
Puck saw a red hatchback pull up next to a driveway. Winding down his window, he could hear the click as the engine stopped and the driver stepped out of the car. Despite the haze between him and this person, he spotted the memorable brown hair, even from behind. Oh yeah, there were plenty other things to notice about him.
Kurt Hummel!
Puck jumped out of his seat, hoping that Kurt could find a way to help him. Even if he had to repay him with a thousand pairs of shoes, he’d do it to get out of the cold. Puck was surprised to have avoided a reaction from Kurt even as he ran towards Kurt hobbling up the dicey driveway.
Puck was getting closer. Several metres separated the two from refuge.
Kurt knew the swift footsteps were getting closer to him. Before revolving, he lost his balance. He slipped, and his feet came from beneath him. In a sudden flash of panic, he shut his eyes.
Something warm snaked its way around his arms, but the taste and sticky sensation of blood was absent. Reopening his eyes, he peered forth into a welcoming smile and a familiar Mohawk shadowing over him.
“Puck?” Kurt murmured.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’ve got you.” He grinned.
“Wha- why?” Kurt gasped.
“I-I don’t like seeing you get hurt.” Puck sighed, “But you’re alright now. I think I can help you.”
With that, Puck was beyond his original task. As of now, he was too occupied, helping Kurt in more ways than one.
So here you are, bound to the chest of your savior, caught in an embrace that reinforces that fact that you’d always liked powerful, well-built arms. Who said there was anything wrong with that?
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Puck/Kurt
Warnings: Sexual references
Word count: 1300
Disclaimer: Glee is property of its respective owners and not myself.
Summary: Kurt hurts himself and Puck is there to help.
There’s nothing wrong with liking amazingly strong, muscular arms. It’s just weird when they’re the ones hoisting you over the rim of a dumpster, or soiling your flawlessly clean face with ice-cold cups of terror. Then, there is the incomparable smirk of triumph as he struts away that melts your heart beyond repair.
“Why d-d-do you let him do this to you, Kurt?” Tina dashed up to the disgruntled boy seconds after he was tossed into a set of lockers. He avoided her gaze, his eyes lingering upon Puck, who is pushing his way through the fatigued club members as they make their way out of McKinley’s chilly halls to their well-heated homes.
Maybe, you just like the way his eyes burn with some kind of passion, be it masochistic or otherwise, it makes you realize that you are getting some kind of attention from him, and in turn, Finn. Nevertheless, Finn can look past you; he’s seen through your vanity. Now, any kind of male attention can settle for you. It’s not your self-esteem or anything; it’s just the fact that it’s a difficult task for you to find a person to respond to your feelings and constant surging of hormones.
Kurt shrugs and thanks Tina for her consideration, but it doesn’t imprint on her. Artie wheels past the two, who are soon joined by Mercedes. Mercedes is full of energy, gushing about how Matt looks at her while they practice. Kurt is abnormally silent among their banter and just trudges along.
He doesn’t even notice when their hushed voices and decreasing speed until he trips down the stairs leading out of the school, splayed across the icy gravel. The last thing he noticed before his plummet was the back of a dark Mohawk descending into a beaten black car. It wasn’t the first time Kurt had fallen over today.
His friends rush to his aid and the rest of the witnesses’ follow, with Artie bringing up the rear. They were crowding around Kurt, uttering sweet coos and continually questioning him. Few were absent; Quinn, Finn, Puck, Matt and Mr. Schue had their heads stuck out of car windows, like giraffes. Puck and Matt slid back into the warmth of Puck’s car.
Kurt rose, merely nodding and wishing to get into his car before it started to rain. Though his dad took his baby away, Kurt managed to suffice, scooping up a courtesy car from the shop. He cracked open the door, and shut himself in, shoving his keys into the ignition to turn on the heater.
“I hate the cold,” Matt began, slowly rotating his hands in front of him, “it’s awful, don’t you think?” He hesitated, turning to look at Puck who had his eyes purely focused on the dashboard.
“I mean, Kurt slipped over, Rachel’s catching a cold and Santana’s being fussy about everything. Being able to sing and dance the cold away is the best part of the day, right?” Matt frowned when Puck’s response was just a nod.
“C’mon Puck, is something up with you? You said you were going to a pool cleaning appointment and it’s the middle of winter!”
“Let’s get out of here.” Puck’s anticlimactic reaction drew Matt’s attention away. Matt was now texting with madness, most likely messaging Mercedes, filling the moist air around them with the quick clicks of a text. Puck pulled out of the school’s parking lot, on his way to drop Matt home before doing whatever he damn well pleased.
Kurt lay back upon the leather upholstery, with the day’s stress and fatigue coming together on a miserably cold day. To top it all off, he may have sprained his ankle.
“Aren’t I lucky for you, you gorgeous boots?” He muttered, wincing at the thought of scuffing the precious Valentino pieces.
He readjusted himself and set off home, sitting amongst the staccato of the engine. The courtesy Corolla hummed its way along the school's tarmac, only to have Finn cut him off. Slamming his heel down on the brake, he cussed. Finn swore from behind his window and apologised, not realising that Kurt was withering into his chair.
Kurt almost wept.
Meanwhile, the others drove on. Puck was several blocks ahead of the pack, in a rush to drop Matt home before filling up his car. He really didn’t have any appointment, but it did sound like a good excuse. Since Valentine’s Day was coming up, he as a stud was looking forward to something a bit different. Cougars were getting old.
Kurt willed himself to continue driving, since he didn’t live that far away and it’s the easiest way to fix himself up. It was too much to bother his dad, who’d been working even more hours at the shop.
“Look at these bruises, man! Seriously, it’s worse than football training,” Matt stated.
“Dude, I’m four blocks away from your house. Could you shut up?” Puck spat.
“Hah, as if. It was insane - imagine the bruises Kurt would have after so many falls!”
“Oh yeah? I swear you pushed him at least once.” Puck was nearing his destination and the needle was running dangerously close to the E. Some unknown feeling brewed inside of him, causing him to cringe.
“No way, I slipped over and it wasn’t my fault, it was Finn.” He accused.
“Whatever.” Puck smirked.
Brakes squeaked as they reached the cobblestone driveway. Another screeching sound followed soon after, as Puck wanted to get somewhere, either home or a gas station, before he broke down.
Kurt was set on autopilot. He drifted along the roads on his way along his most frequented trip. Smooth tunes made its way into his mind as the perfect distraction from pain.
On the other hand, Puck had no clue where to go. Normally, he had no trouble making his way anywhere but without free hands or the desire to die by text message, he drove on, thinking he knew where he was. He gradually slowed and switched off the ignition. He idled, deciding on waiting or searching for someone to help despite the chilly conditions. Two bright headlights approached and halted his train of thought.
Kurt turned the final bend and closed in on his home. He sighed with contentment.
Puck saw a red hatchback pull up next to a driveway. Winding down his window, he could hear the click as the engine stopped and the driver stepped out of the car. Despite the haze between him and this person, he spotted the memorable brown hair, even from behind. Oh yeah, there were plenty other things to notice about him.
Kurt Hummel!
Puck jumped out of his seat, hoping that Kurt could find a way to help him. Even if he had to repay him with a thousand pairs of shoes, he’d do it to get out of the cold. Puck was surprised to have avoided a reaction from Kurt even as he ran towards Kurt hobbling up the dicey driveway.
Puck was getting closer. Several metres separated the two from refuge.
Kurt knew the swift footsteps were getting closer to him. Before revolving, he lost his balance. He slipped, and his feet came from beneath him. In a sudden flash of panic, he shut his eyes.
Something warm snaked its way around his arms, but the taste and sticky sensation of blood was absent. Reopening his eyes, he peered forth into a welcoming smile and a familiar Mohawk shadowing over him.
“Puck?” Kurt murmured.
“Yeah, it’s me. I’ve got you.” He grinned.
“Wha- why?” Kurt gasped.
“I-I don’t like seeing you get hurt.” Puck sighed, “But you’re alright now. I think I can help you.”
With that, Puck was beyond his original task. As of now, he was too occupied, helping Kurt in more ways than one.
So here you are, bound to the chest of your savior, caught in an embrace that reinforces that fact that you’d always liked powerful, well-built arms. Who said there was anything wrong with that?