Fic: No Reason At All
Title: No Reason At All
Fandom: Glee
Characters (Pairings): Kurt, Puck, ensemble; (Puck/Kurt friendship or pre-slash, your preference)
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG
Warnings: personal catharsis and lack of sufficient editing
Spoilers: Through 3x01
Word Count: 3,622
Summary: Spin-the-bottle is a lot more awkward without the alcohol, and this isn’t helping.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Glee. Just… literally nothing. Not even a single song on iTunes.
Author’s Note: I’m ignoring canon drama and just sticking everyone who’s around in the Glee Club.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sitting cross-legged on the floor between a giggling Mercedes and a slightly distracted Rachel (leaning into Finn’s embrace with a lazy smile on her face), watching the glass bottle spin around in the middle of their circle, Kurt wondered how the hell he’d let himself get dragged into this again.
He couldn’t even pass it off by claiming he wasn’t in his right mind, because he was, technically. Something must be wrong, probably, to have him sitting here with little to no protest, but he couldn’t point to a specific cause, since he hadn’t been hit over the head lately nor had he had anything to drink. No one had, actually, which made the suggestion of spin-the-bottle more of a surprise, but Tina and Brittany had insisted it would be just as fun.
So there he was, watching the bottle turn in circles and idly hoping it wouldn’t land on him.
It wasn’t the kissing he had a problem with, so much. Even if he hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, not since he and Blaine broke up a couple of months ago (and remained friendly, thank God, because they were all tired of scrambling desperately to fill the 12 spots when someone broke up or dropped out), it wasn’t anything new. He just didn’t want to deal with the drama that inevitably ensued. They had gotten distracted pretty quickly last time, he reasoned, so maybe this round wouldn’t even last long enough to include him as a participant. He could hope, anyway.
If it had to land on him, it would be nice if it were at least one of the girls. He liked them all well enough, and anything they exchanged would be decidedly chaste and platonic. Matching up with a boy, on the other hand, would lead to that terribly awkward moment when they realized that, whatever else they felt about him, it was a little weird to kiss him. Also, he was fairly certain that spinning Blaine would be uncomfortable; no matter how excited the boy looked as he eyed the game.
And if Finn’s spin happened to land on him? He was standing up and walking out, no questions. As much for Finn’s sake as for his own. That was just… No.
He watched the turns go by: Tina kissed Artie quickly before she retreated back to Mike’s arms, and then Artie spun Santana and looked mildly terrified for a moment before giving in. Santana and Mercedes shared the first same-sex kiss of the game before Mercedes moved onto Finn, leaning over Kurt and Rachel for better access without having to stand. Finn’s spin landed him right back onto Mercedes, at which point Brittany clapped her hands and gleefully reminded them they had to make it French for two in a row, undeterred by the glare Rachel shot in her direction.
The glare drained quickly off her face when the bottle chose her next, and Kurt once more had to tilt his body backwards to make room for the kissing. When it happened again as Rachel spun right back to Mercedes for some unenthusiastic Frenching, he gave up and started scooting backwards out of the circle for the time being.
Mercedes just grabbed his ankle and tugged him right back. “Come back here, boy,” she said, blushing a little from having gone so many times in a row. “I’ve gotta be about done by now.”
When the bottle spun around a few times and slowed to a stop on Rachel, neither of them moved. “Okay, there has to be something wrong with this thing,” Rachel said, eyeing it warily while Brittany giggled happily.
“Nothing wrong with letting the rest of us watch you two make out,” Puck said, smirking from across the circle until Quinn smacked his arm. “What? It’s hot.”
Finn coughed awkwardly from behind Rachel, carefully not adding his own opinion to the discussion.
“Three times!” Brittany reminded them. “I don’t remember what you do for that one. Probably add hands, right? That’s the next base.”
“We’re good, Brittany!” Mercedes said, a little too loud, before leaning over for a short kiss with Rachel, much less impressive than either of the first two, and Tina had to repeat the three-second rule that they seemed to be forgetting. They ignored her. “Okay, moving on?”
The bottle swung around to land on Artie next. “Thank goodness,” Rachel sighed, and stood up to meet him.
Artie and Brittany shared the next kiss, and Brittany moved them right along to Frenching without waiting for the special circumstances. Brittany spun Rachel, who looked vaguely frustrated at constantly being matched with girls, especially when Santana came up next.
Santana’s spin landed on Puck, which was probably one of the least-awkward match-ups of the game, even if it kind of looked like she was attacking him rather than kissing him, not that he complained. He was still grinning when he reached out to flick the bottle into a spin on the floor.
“Damnit,” Kurt groaned when the bottle slowed to a stop pointing directly at him.
“Come on, man, I’m not that bad,” Puck said, still grinning a little.
“Think what you want,” Kurt said airily, but it ended with a sigh as he figured that was about all the stalling he’d be able to get away with. Oh, well. It wasn’t a girl, but Puck didn’t exactly look upset about the prospect of kissing him, for whatever reason, so it wouldn’t be too bad. He’d save his protests for the off-chance that he was ever part of a repeat spin. He had not signed up for anything remotely French. “Okay, fine.”
Heaving himself up onto his feet rather than leaning over the circle, because Puck was a little too far away for that and he wasn’t planning on crawling over to the other boy, he edged forward into the center. Puck stood up a second later, dirty smile painted on his face and eyebrow raised expectantly.
That was the point where Kurt got stuck for just a minute, because actually he really hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, and even when he was with Blaine he had some trouble keeping up with the tongue action (it was weird, honestly, and however much he did enjoy it he always wondered what the hell was actually going on… when he had enough coherent thought to devote to things like that, anyway). Puck was presumably a pretty good kisser, too, whereas he was not, and would that be incredibly obvious?
He was over-analyzing, he decided. It was a three-second kiss. Shorter, if Puck decided to back out hallway through, which Kurt wouldn’t exactly blame him for. And there wasn’t going to be any sort of tongue at all, so he didn’t even need to worry about that. ‘Just do it and get it done,’ he thought to himself, and blinked himself out of his contemplation just in time to see Puck roll his eyes in impatience and lean in, reaching out for Kurt’s arms as he did.
The next couple of seconds were a quick blur of motions he knew he wasn’t consciously making and a loud, “Don’t!” that shouldn’t have come from him, but did.
“Wait,” he said shakily, even though he hadn’t meant to and barely even noticed it, too busy taking stock of the fact that he was suddenly halfway across the room, having somehow moved backwards out of the circle. He stuttered his feet to a stop from where they were still shuffling back slightly, though the majority of the distance, he remembered slowly, had probably been caused by the initial, rather spectacular leap.
His breath was heavy, his eyes darting around the room, his body jerking a little with jolts of panic, but it faded quickly away when he realized he had no idea why he was freaking out. As soon as he noticed that his arms were raised protectively in front of him, he lowered them back to his sides and, breathing almost returned to normal, chanced a look at his friends.
The circle had frozen, most of its occupants staring up at him with startled looks on their faces, though Blaine’s was slipping quickly into something sad and thoughtful. It made Kurt angrier than it probably should, but he really wished Blaine wouldn’t make assumptions about this, because that thing he was almost certainly thinking of? That wasn’t what this was about. Not at all. Right?
His eyes flicked over to Puck and he felt immediately guilty for the shocked ‘what did I do wrong?’ expression the boy was directing at him. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Sorry,” he said again, louder this time. “It’s fine.” Before he could analyze this too much, before Blaine could look any more understanding than he already did, Kurt stepped resolutely forward until he stood in front of Puck again and leaned over to close his eyes and press their lips together.
It wasn’t anything special; neither of them moved at all while Kurt maintained a light pressure on Puck’s lips for a count of, ‘3… 2… 1…0,’ in his head. He had just enough time to note that the lips touching his were pleasantly soft before drawing back and sitting quickly back down in between Rachel and Mercedes.
“Are you, uh, okay?” Mercedes asked him slowly, as Puck blinked confusedly at the air for a moment before taking his seat across the circle once more.
“Fine,” he replied easily. “My turn to spin?” He leaned into Rachel with absolutely no trace of hesitation when the bottle pointed in her direction, and kissed her easily for even a little longer than the required three seconds. Her lips were pretty soft, too.
Everyone seemed to shake themselves and let it go after a few more seconds of him acting normally, and Rachel’s kiss with Brittany distracted them pretty well. The next rounds of Brittany spinning Artie and Artie spinning Mercedes, who promptly starting complaining about herself and Rachel being the clear and unfortunate favorites of that damn bottle, did the job even better, and by the time Mercedes was groaning over having to kiss Santana again, they had moved on.
The trail continued: Santana to Rachel to Quinn to Mercedes to Rachel (“Seriously?”) to Santana to Quinn to Artie to Santana to Mike (“Finally!”) to Finn to Rachel. While the couple shared a kiss that was unnecessarily long, Kurt whispered something to Mercedes about needing the bathroom and slipped out, turning the corner just as Santana started to complain about the hold-up.
Though he hadn’t actually intended on reaching the bathroom, he wound up there anyway for lack of a better place to go, locking the door behind him and sitting down on the toilet seat with a heavy sigh.
“What,” he muttered to himself, “the hell was that?”
Any trace of the panic that had shocked through his body was long gone by now, but that wasn’t as comforting as it should have been since he still didn’t have any clue why it had appeared in the first place.
Months ago (getting closer to a year now, he supposed), he would have known exactly what the problem was. This did feel a lot like it had back then, the jolting moments of fear when someone came up behind him or moved in too close, too quickly for him to remember it wasn’t meant to be threatening. It was different, though, lacking any of the specifically identifying qualities that had been so common, like the flashes of a dirty locker room or the instinctive assumption of who it would be when he turned around.
He hadn’t even thought about it at all until he’d looked over at Blaine, actually. This had been panic, simple and uncomplicated by any other thoughts (rational or otherwise). But it still had to come from somewhere.
It couldn’t have come from that. He was over that. Had been for a long time. Sure, the first couple of times he’d kissed Blaine had been a little bit weird because of it, but he’d gotten into the rhythm pretty fast and quite enjoyed kissing and everything else they’d done, too. He’d moved on, he’d forgiven Karofsky, he barely even thought about it anymore. It just didn’t make any sense.
On the other hand, what else could it be? Puck hadn’t been a threatening presence for… well, years now, long before Kurt had even begun having this other problem. He could try to blame it on the building effects of being bullied, but the fact was the nothing had ever made him feel that level of panic. Nothing except the thing he didn’t want to acknowledge was still an issue.
All options eliminated but one, parallels conclusively drawn (because that sudden instinctive reaction of ‘get back now’ was not unfamiliar), Kurt dropped his head to his hands and called himself an idiot for thinking he was past this.
A knock on the door distracted him. “Just a minute,” he called, taking a deep breath and shifting his hair back into its proper position.
“Kurt?”
Oh, God. He knew that voice. Did they really have to deal with this now?
Apparently they did, so he jerked the door open to reveal Puck standing uncertainly in the hall.
“What?” he snapped, making no effort to hide his annoyance.
“Uh, I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Puck said, still looking like he wasn’t at all sure he was doing what he was supposed to.
“Hmm. I would’ve figured Blaine would be the first to follow me out,” Kurt muttered.
“Blaine’s a little busy with Brittany,” Puck said. “I think she’s been looking for an excuse to make out with him for a while, since she’s gotten everyone else at least once.”
“Ah, of course,” Kurt said, and then sighed a little at the sight of Puck leaning forward on his toes but not quite making it into the bathroom. “I’m fine. You can come in, if you want. Sorry you’re kind of getting the short stick of my emotional outbursts today. It’s not your fault.”
“Well I must’ve done something,” Puck said, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him once more. “I mean, I’ve had girls say no to me before-”
“You? No…” Kurt couldn’t help the sarcasm.
“Hard to believe, right?” Puck grinned. “But, yeah, a couple times. Thing is, though, I’ve never seen anyone jump across the room to get away from my lips. That’s weird.”
“Ah. Yes. Well…” He couldn’t think of anything to say other than, ‘It’s nothing,’ and that would probably just make it worse.
“Well what?” Puck said. “What’s going on? That was kind of messed up.”
“It’s noth-” He cut off the automatic response as fast as he could, but Puck was already eyeing him suspiciously. “It’s not a big deal, really. I’m just… I’m not quite as over something as I thought I was.”
It sounded to him like a reasonable half-explanation that didn’t give out enough information to lay the blame on anything in particular, but apparently that was not how Puck saw it, because his shoulders drooped immediately upon hearing it and he sank back a little to lean against the sink.
“Oh,” Puck said. “Okay. Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve… I didn’t think that was still a problem.” The words jolt Kurt’s body to attention.
“Wait, what- How did you even know what I was talking about?” How did he even know it had happened? Blaine was the only one who- That’s why Kurt had figured him for the one chasing after him, but Puck? Shouldn’t have any idea.
“Kinda obvious, huh?” Puck said, but no, no it wasn’t. “I mean, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve tossed you in a dumpster, but I probably shouldn’t, like, come at you like that, yeah?”
Oh. Oh. Puck thought it was his fault. He thought Kurt had jumped away because he was remembering all the times Puck had shoved him into lockers or closets and was freaking out at those same hands reaching for him again. It was almost a reasonable explanation, and one that Kurt would’ve clung to if it hadn’t been for the fact that he knew perfectly well Puck had never made him feel that kind of bone-deep fear.
This was his out, he realized. This was his answer that, however much he knew wasn’t true, would make every bit of sense to Puck and anyone else who asked. Except that Puck looked so damn upset and angry with himself at the idea, and it was growing with every second as Kurt’s silence started to feel like agreement. Kurt hated the look on his face right now.
“No,” he said, ruining the easy road. “No, Puck, it wasn’t that at all. It’s not about anything you did, I promise.”
Puck clearly didn’t believe him.
“Really, it’s not you. It was…” Kurt bit his lip, trying to decide how little he could get away with saying. “It’s Karofsky,” he said. That would work. That was a nice, simple answer. Even without knowing any of the details or the worst of what went on, Puck had enough of a general picture for that to be an acceptable reason for panic. “It’s just… I’d been thinking about it,” not true, “and you’re kind of the same size as him,” kind of, as long as he ignored the fact that they looked nothing alike, “and I wasn’t paying attention.” That one was true.
“Fuck, really?” Puck said, and Kurt knew they were already edging into dangerous territory, but he felt much better when the anger on Puck’s face was directed at someone other than himself.
“Yes,” Kurt said, trying to reach some sort of conclusion before Puck tried asking questions. “But I promise it’s fine, now. I just wasn’t paying attention,” he said, again.
“It’s so fine that you had to run out of the room first chance, right.”
“I didn’t. It was several turns later and I really did have to use the bathroom.” He was still lying, but Puck would never believe he was okay if he told the truth.
“Alright, fine,” Puck said. “So, should I not do that again, or…? I mean, the girls aren’t gonna be happy about you dropping out of the game but if you tell them why-”
“No!” Kurt said quickly, startling Puck into looking him in the eye. “When I said I was fine, I meant that I’m fine. It was just a fluke, okay?” It was probably just chance, he figured. The first time he’d kissed anyone in a while and some left-over reactions that were fading fast. It had to be, right? He hated to think it could happen again. “I’m past it. I can play.”
Puck just stared at him, unsure.
“Oh my God,” Kurt groaned. “Seriously, not going to freak out again. Here, I’ll prove it.” He spread his arms out wide. “’Come at me,’ or whatever you want to call it.”
The next thing that happened wasn’t lips on his or a dismissive scoff, it was arms wrapped tight around him. It was sudden, but he didn’t feel even a little bit panicked or disoriented or afraid.
He just felt warm.
So he circled his own arms around Puck’s back and gave him a short squeeze, and a few seconds later Puck was pulling away for a searching look which Kurt met with a smile.
“See?” he said. “Totally fine.”
Puck nodded, reasonably satisfied, and stepped further back.
“Can we go back, then? I’m pretty sure you’re missing potential make-out time with the girls.”
“I’m good here,” Puck said, smiling, “but yeah, sure, if you want. You’re sure you’re fine with it, though?”
“Yes,” Kurt groaned. “I really am. And if you keep asking, I’m going to start thinking you’re just trying to get me to kiss you, to ‘prove it.’”
He didn’t see Puck’s reaction to that, already opening the door and heading down the hall. Maybe that was it; maybe it would never happen again. Or maybe he would freak out over something stupid one day when he was 29. Or tomorrow.
He decided it wasn’t worth thinking about.
Taking his place in the circle, Kurt watched Tina break away from Blaine with a loud smack just as Puck swung himself back into his empty seat. “What’d I miss?”
“Blaine had to make out with your step-brother,” Mercedes said, grinning wickedly.
“We didn’t make out!” Finn protested. “We just kissed!”
“Technicality,” Mercedes said, waving him off while Blaine spun the bottle once more… and watched it land on Finn.
“Again?” Finn gaped.
“Gee, thanks,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes and making Finn grin sheepishly as he leaned across.
“Ha!” Mercedes shouted as Finn’s spin went back around the circle to Blaine. “Now you have to make out!”
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Blaine grumbled.
“Of course I am. It’s someone else’s turn to be favored by the bottle.”
Blaine to Brittany to Santana to Brittany (“Double!”) to Rachel to Mercedes (“Damn”) and travelling around the circle a few more turns until Puck was pulling away from Mike and reaching for the bottle again.
He smirked a little when it landed on Kurt but didn’t move more than halfway across the space between them, so Kurt pushed himself up and forward to meet with Puck’s waiting lips, which were still very soft. The kiss was warm, like the embrace in the bathroom, and Kurt smiled as he pulled away.
The touch of fear he felt when his next spin landed on Santana and she licked her lips at him was, he figured, entirely reasonable.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: So, all those kisses in spin-the-bottle? Totally decided by my iPhone app. Seriously, I didn’t even have to set up the important kiss, and the one at the end wasn’t planned at all, it was dictated by the app! Apparently it ships Puck/Kurt. And Mercedes/Rachel, and Blaine/Finn.
This is heavily based on recent, real life events (AKA I did this the other night), and therefore is mostly catharsis and me trying (/failing) to figure out what the hell was going on. Hopefully it wasn’t too painful to read; I have no way to judge this one objectively.
Fandom: Glee
Characters (Pairings): Kurt, Puck, ensemble; (Puck/Kurt friendship or pre-slash, your preference)
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG
Warnings: personal catharsis and lack of sufficient editing
Spoilers: Through 3x01
Word Count: 3,622
Summary: Spin-the-bottle is a lot more awkward without the alcohol, and this isn’t helping.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Glee. Just… literally nothing. Not even a single song on iTunes.
Author’s Note: I’m ignoring canon drama and just sticking everyone who’s around in the Glee Club.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sitting cross-legged on the floor between a giggling Mercedes and a slightly distracted Rachel (leaning into Finn’s embrace with a lazy smile on her face), watching the glass bottle spin around in the middle of their circle, Kurt wondered how the hell he’d let himself get dragged into this again.
He couldn’t even pass it off by claiming he wasn’t in his right mind, because he was, technically. Something must be wrong, probably, to have him sitting here with little to no protest, but he couldn’t point to a specific cause, since he hadn’t been hit over the head lately nor had he had anything to drink. No one had, actually, which made the suggestion of spin-the-bottle more of a surprise, but Tina and Brittany had insisted it would be just as fun.
So there he was, watching the bottle turn in circles and idly hoping it wouldn’t land on him.
It wasn’t the kissing he had a problem with, so much. Even if he hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, not since he and Blaine broke up a couple of months ago (and remained friendly, thank God, because they were all tired of scrambling desperately to fill the 12 spots when someone broke up or dropped out), it wasn’t anything new. He just didn’t want to deal with the drama that inevitably ensued. They had gotten distracted pretty quickly last time, he reasoned, so maybe this round wouldn’t even last long enough to include him as a participant. He could hope, anyway.
If it had to land on him, it would be nice if it were at least one of the girls. He liked them all well enough, and anything they exchanged would be decidedly chaste and platonic. Matching up with a boy, on the other hand, would lead to that terribly awkward moment when they realized that, whatever else they felt about him, it was a little weird to kiss him. Also, he was fairly certain that spinning Blaine would be uncomfortable; no matter how excited the boy looked as he eyed the game.
And if Finn’s spin happened to land on him? He was standing up and walking out, no questions. As much for Finn’s sake as for his own. That was just… No.
He watched the turns go by: Tina kissed Artie quickly before she retreated back to Mike’s arms, and then Artie spun Santana and looked mildly terrified for a moment before giving in. Santana and Mercedes shared the first same-sex kiss of the game before Mercedes moved onto Finn, leaning over Kurt and Rachel for better access without having to stand. Finn’s spin landed him right back onto Mercedes, at which point Brittany clapped her hands and gleefully reminded them they had to make it French for two in a row, undeterred by the glare Rachel shot in her direction.
The glare drained quickly off her face when the bottle chose her next, and Kurt once more had to tilt his body backwards to make room for the kissing. When it happened again as Rachel spun right back to Mercedes for some unenthusiastic Frenching, he gave up and started scooting backwards out of the circle for the time being.
Mercedes just grabbed his ankle and tugged him right back. “Come back here, boy,” she said, blushing a little from having gone so many times in a row. “I’ve gotta be about done by now.”
When the bottle spun around a few times and slowed to a stop on Rachel, neither of them moved. “Okay, there has to be something wrong with this thing,” Rachel said, eyeing it warily while Brittany giggled happily.
“Nothing wrong with letting the rest of us watch you two make out,” Puck said, smirking from across the circle until Quinn smacked his arm. “What? It’s hot.”
Finn coughed awkwardly from behind Rachel, carefully not adding his own opinion to the discussion.
“Three times!” Brittany reminded them. “I don’t remember what you do for that one. Probably add hands, right? That’s the next base.”
“We’re good, Brittany!” Mercedes said, a little too loud, before leaning over for a short kiss with Rachel, much less impressive than either of the first two, and Tina had to repeat the three-second rule that they seemed to be forgetting. They ignored her. “Okay, moving on?”
The bottle swung around to land on Artie next. “Thank goodness,” Rachel sighed, and stood up to meet him.
Artie and Brittany shared the next kiss, and Brittany moved them right along to Frenching without waiting for the special circumstances. Brittany spun Rachel, who looked vaguely frustrated at constantly being matched with girls, especially when Santana came up next.
Santana’s spin landed on Puck, which was probably one of the least-awkward match-ups of the game, even if it kind of looked like she was attacking him rather than kissing him, not that he complained. He was still grinning when he reached out to flick the bottle into a spin on the floor.
“Damnit,” Kurt groaned when the bottle slowed to a stop pointing directly at him.
“Come on, man, I’m not that bad,” Puck said, still grinning a little.
“Think what you want,” Kurt said airily, but it ended with a sigh as he figured that was about all the stalling he’d be able to get away with. Oh, well. It wasn’t a girl, but Puck didn’t exactly look upset about the prospect of kissing him, for whatever reason, so it wouldn’t be too bad. He’d save his protests for the off-chance that he was ever part of a repeat spin. He had not signed up for anything remotely French. “Okay, fine.”
Heaving himself up onto his feet rather than leaning over the circle, because Puck was a little too far away for that and he wasn’t planning on crawling over to the other boy, he edged forward into the center. Puck stood up a second later, dirty smile painted on his face and eyebrow raised expectantly.
That was the point where Kurt got stuck for just a minute, because actually he really hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, and even when he was with Blaine he had some trouble keeping up with the tongue action (it was weird, honestly, and however much he did enjoy it he always wondered what the hell was actually going on… when he had enough coherent thought to devote to things like that, anyway). Puck was presumably a pretty good kisser, too, whereas he was not, and would that be incredibly obvious?
He was over-analyzing, he decided. It was a three-second kiss. Shorter, if Puck decided to back out hallway through, which Kurt wouldn’t exactly blame him for. And there wasn’t going to be any sort of tongue at all, so he didn’t even need to worry about that. ‘Just do it and get it done,’ he thought to himself, and blinked himself out of his contemplation just in time to see Puck roll his eyes in impatience and lean in, reaching out for Kurt’s arms as he did.
The next couple of seconds were a quick blur of motions he knew he wasn’t consciously making and a loud, “Don’t!” that shouldn’t have come from him, but did.
“Wait,” he said shakily, even though he hadn’t meant to and barely even noticed it, too busy taking stock of the fact that he was suddenly halfway across the room, having somehow moved backwards out of the circle. He stuttered his feet to a stop from where they were still shuffling back slightly, though the majority of the distance, he remembered slowly, had probably been caused by the initial, rather spectacular leap.
His breath was heavy, his eyes darting around the room, his body jerking a little with jolts of panic, but it faded quickly away when he realized he had no idea why he was freaking out. As soon as he noticed that his arms were raised protectively in front of him, he lowered them back to his sides and, breathing almost returned to normal, chanced a look at his friends.
The circle had frozen, most of its occupants staring up at him with startled looks on their faces, though Blaine’s was slipping quickly into something sad and thoughtful. It made Kurt angrier than it probably should, but he really wished Blaine wouldn’t make assumptions about this, because that thing he was almost certainly thinking of? That wasn’t what this was about. Not at all. Right?
His eyes flicked over to Puck and he felt immediately guilty for the shocked ‘what did I do wrong?’ expression the boy was directing at him. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Sorry,” he said again, louder this time. “It’s fine.” Before he could analyze this too much, before Blaine could look any more understanding than he already did, Kurt stepped resolutely forward until he stood in front of Puck again and leaned over to close his eyes and press their lips together.
It wasn’t anything special; neither of them moved at all while Kurt maintained a light pressure on Puck’s lips for a count of, ‘3… 2… 1…0,’ in his head. He had just enough time to note that the lips touching his were pleasantly soft before drawing back and sitting quickly back down in between Rachel and Mercedes.
“Are you, uh, okay?” Mercedes asked him slowly, as Puck blinked confusedly at the air for a moment before taking his seat across the circle once more.
“Fine,” he replied easily. “My turn to spin?” He leaned into Rachel with absolutely no trace of hesitation when the bottle pointed in her direction, and kissed her easily for even a little longer than the required three seconds. Her lips were pretty soft, too.
Everyone seemed to shake themselves and let it go after a few more seconds of him acting normally, and Rachel’s kiss with Brittany distracted them pretty well. The next rounds of Brittany spinning Artie and Artie spinning Mercedes, who promptly starting complaining about herself and Rachel being the clear and unfortunate favorites of that damn bottle, did the job even better, and by the time Mercedes was groaning over having to kiss Santana again, they had moved on.
The trail continued: Santana to Rachel to Quinn to Mercedes to Rachel (“Seriously?”) to Santana to Quinn to Artie to Santana to Mike (“Finally!”) to Finn to Rachel. While the couple shared a kiss that was unnecessarily long, Kurt whispered something to Mercedes about needing the bathroom and slipped out, turning the corner just as Santana started to complain about the hold-up.
Though he hadn’t actually intended on reaching the bathroom, he wound up there anyway for lack of a better place to go, locking the door behind him and sitting down on the toilet seat with a heavy sigh.
“What,” he muttered to himself, “the hell was that?”
Any trace of the panic that had shocked through his body was long gone by now, but that wasn’t as comforting as it should have been since he still didn’t have any clue why it had appeared in the first place.
Months ago (getting closer to a year now, he supposed), he would have known exactly what the problem was. This did feel a lot like it had back then, the jolting moments of fear when someone came up behind him or moved in too close, too quickly for him to remember it wasn’t meant to be threatening. It was different, though, lacking any of the specifically identifying qualities that had been so common, like the flashes of a dirty locker room or the instinctive assumption of who it would be when he turned around.
He hadn’t even thought about it at all until he’d looked over at Blaine, actually. This had been panic, simple and uncomplicated by any other thoughts (rational or otherwise). But it still had to come from somewhere.
It couldn’t have come from that. He was over that. Had been for a long time. Sure, the first couple of times he’d kissed Blaine had been a little bit weird because of it, but he’d gotten into the rhythm pretty fast and quite enjoyed kissing and everything else they’d done, too. He’d moved on, he’d forgiven Karofsky, he barely even thought about it anymore. It just didn’t make any sense.
On the other hand, what else could it be? Puck hadn’t been a threatening presence for… well, years now, long before Kurt had even begun having this other problem. He could try to blame it on the building effects of being bullied, but the fact was the nothing had ever made him feel that level of panic. Nothing except the thing he didn’t want to acknowledge was still an issue.
All options eliminated but one, parallels conclusively drawn (because that sudden instinctive reaction of ‘get back now’ was not unfamiliar), Kurt dropped his head to his hands and called himself an idiot for thinking he was past this.
A knock on the door distracted him. “Just a minute,” he called, taking a deep breath and shifting his hair back into its proper position.
“Kurt?”
Oh, God. He knew that voice. Did they really have to deal with this now?
Apparently they did, so he jerked the door open to reveal Puck standing uncertainly in the hall.
“What?” he snapped, making no effort to hide his annoyance.
“Uh, I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Puck said, still looking like he wasn’t at all sure he was doing what he was supposed to.
“Hmm. I would’ve figured Blaine would be the first to follow me out,” Kurt muttered.
“Blaine’s a little busy with Brittany,” Puck said. “I think she’s been looking for an excuse to make out with him for a while, since she’s gotten everyone else at least once.”
“Ah, of course,” Kurt said, and then sighed a little at the sight of Puck leaning forward on his toes but not quite making it into the bathroom. “I’m fine. You can come in, if you want. Sorry you’re kind of getting the short stick of my emotional outbursts today. It’s not your fault.”
“Well I must’ve done something,” Puck said, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him once more. “I mean, I’ve had girls say no to me before-”
“You? No…” Kurt couldn’t help the sarcasm.
“Hard to believe, right?” Puck grinned. “But, yeah, a couple times. Thing is, though, I’ve never seen anyone jump across the room to get away from my lips. That’s weird.”
“Ah. Yes. Well…” He couldn’t think of anything to say other than, ‘It’s nothing,’ and that would probably just make it worse.
“Well what?” Puck said. “What’s going on? That was kind of messed up.”
“It’s noth-” He cut off the automatic response as fast as he could, but Puck was already eyeing him suspiciously. “It’s not a big deal, really. I’m just… I’m not quite as over something as I thought I was.”
It sounded to him like a reasonable half-explanation that didn’t give out enough information to lay the blame on anything in particular, but apparently that was not how Puck saw it, because his shoulders drooped immediately upon hearing it and he sank back a little to lean against the sink.
“Oh,” Puck said. “Okay. Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve… I didn’t think that was still a problem.” The words jolt Kurt’s body to attention.
“Wait, what- How did you even know what I was talking about?” How did he even know it had happened? Blaine was the only one who- That’s why Kurt had figured him for the one chasing after him, but Puck? Shouldn’t have any idea.
“Kinda obvious, huh?” Puck said, but no, no it wasn’t. “I mean, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve tossed you in a dumpster, but I probably shouldn’t, like, come at you like that, yeah?”
Oh. Oh. Puck thought it was his fault. He thought Kurt had jumped away because he was remembering all the times Puck had shoved him into lockers or closets and was freaking out at those same hands reaching for him again. It was almost a reasonable explanation, and one that Kurt would’ve clung to if it hadn’t been for the fact that he knew perfectly well Puck had never made him feel that kind of bone-deep fear.
This was his out, he realized. This was his answer that, however much he knew wasn’t true, would make every bit of sense to Puck and anyone else who asked. Except that Puck looked so damn upset and angry with himself at the idea, and it was growing with every second as Kurt’s silence started to feel like agreement. Kurt hated the look on his face right now.
“No,” he said, ruining the easy road. “No, Puck, it wasn’t that at all. It’s not about anything you did, I promise.”
Puck clearly didn’t believe him.
“Really, it’s not you. It was…” Kurt bit his lip, trying to decide how little he could get away with saying. “It’s Karofsky,” he said. That would work. That was a nice, simple answer. Even without knowing any of the details or the worst of what went on, Puck had enough of a general picture for that to be an acceptable reason for panic. “It’s just… I’d been thinking about it,” not true, “and you’re kind of the same size as him,” kind of, as long as he ignored the fact that they looked nothing alike, “and I wasn’t paying attention.” That one was true.
“Fuck, really?” Puck said, and Kurt knew they were already edging into dangerous territory, but he felt much better when the anger on Puck’s face was directed at someone other than himself.
“Yes,” Kurt said, trying to reach some sort of conclusion before Puck tried asking questions. “But I promise it’s fine, now. I just wasn’t paying attention,” he said, again.
“It’s so fine that you had to run out of the room first chance, right.”
“I didn’t. It was several turns later and I really did have to use the bathroom.” He was still lying, but Puck would never believe he was okay if he told the truth.
“Alright, fine,” Puck said. “So, should I not do that again, or…? I mean, the girls aren’t gonna be happy about you dropping out of the game but if you tell them why-”
“No!” Kurt said quickly, startling Puck into looking him in the eye. “When I said I was fine, I meant that I’m fine. It was just a fluke, okay?” It was probably just chance, he figured. The first time he’d kissed anyone in a while and some left-over reactions that were fading fast. It had to be, right? He hated to think it could happen again. “I’m past it. I can play.”
Puck just stared at him, unsure.
“Oh my God,” Kurt groaned. “Seriously, not going to freak out again. Here, I’ll prove it.” He spread his arms out wide. “’Come at me,’ or whatever you want to call it.”
The next thing that happened wasn’t lips on his or a dismissive scoff, it was arms wrapped tight around him. It was sudden, but he didn’t feel even a little bit panicked or disoriented or afraid.
He just felt warm.
So he circled his own arms around Puck’s back and gave him a short squeeze, and a few seconds later Puck was pulling away for a searching look which Kurt met with a smile.
“See?” he said. “Totally fine.”
Puck nodded, reasonably satisfied, and stepped further back.
“Can we go back, then? I’m pretty sure you’re missing potential make-out time with the girls.”
“I’m good here,” Puck said, smiling, “but yeah, sure, if you want. You’re sure you’re fine with it, though?”
“Yes,” Kurt groaned. “I really am. And if you keep asking, I’m going to start thinking you’re just trying to get me to kiss you, to ‘prove it.’”
He didn’t see Puck’s reaction to that, already opening the door and heading down the hall. Maybe that was it; maybe it would never happen again. Or maybe he would freak out over something stupid one day when he was 29. Or tomorrow.
He decided it wasn’t worth thinking about.
Taking his place in the circle, Kurt watched Tina break away from Blaine with a loud smack just as Puck swung himself back into his empty seat. “What’d I miss?”
“Blaine had to make out with your step-brother,” Mercedes said, grinning wickedly.
“We didn’t make out!” Finn protested. “We just kissed!”
“Technicality,” Mercedes said, waving him off while Blaine spun the bottle once more… and watched it land on Finn.
“Again?” Finn gaped.
“Gee, thanks,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes and making Finn grin sheepishly as he leaned across.
“Ha!” Mercedes shouted as Finn’s spin went back around the circle to Blaine. “Now you have to make out!”
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Blaine grumbled.
“Of course I am. It’s someone else’s turn to be favored by the bottle.”
Blaine to Brittany to Santana to Brittany (“Double!”) to Rachel to Mercedes (“Damn”) and travelling around the circle a few more turns until Puck was pulling away from Mike and reaching for the bottle again.
He smirked a little when it landed on Kurt but didn’t move more than halfway across the space between them, so Kurt pushed himself up and forward to meet with Puck’s waiting lips, which were still very soft. The kiss was warm, like the embrace in the bathroom, and Kurt smiled as he pulled away.
The touch of fear he felt when his next spin landed on Santana and she licked her lips at him was, he figured, entirely reasonable.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: So, all those kisses in spin-the-bottle? Totally decided by my iPhone app. Seriously, I didn’t even have to set up the important kiss, and the one at the end wasn’t planned at all, it was dictated by the app! Apparently it ships Puck/Kurt. And Mercedes/Rachel, and Blaine/Finn.
This is heavily based on recent, real life events (AKA I did this the other night), and therefore is mostly catharsis and me trying (/failing) to figure out what the hell was going on. Hopefully it wasn’t too painful to read; I have no way to judge this one objectively.