"Under the Influence"
Oh, God, another fandom. :) I've been watching Glee, and I haven't really been shipping anyone in particular- I've mostly been shipping everyone, cheering when anything happens that would lend itself to any pairing. But this idea came to me last night and wouldn't let go, so I wrote it when I was supposed to be doing work for class. I'm making good use of my grad school education. :P
Title: "Under the Influence"
Fandom/Pairing: "Glee," Puck/Kurt
Rating: PG
Also posted at: gleeslash
Summary: After winning Regionals, Puck takes Kurt out for a celebratory drink and gets him ridiculously drunk.
After they win, they go to dinner. Mr. Schue makes a toast, and the group is chatty and wild, high on the adrenaline from their performance. Puck takes it all in, staying mostly with the jocks but occasionally tuning in to the conversations across the table. He doesn’t know what to make of this whole thing. It’s different from a football win, where celebration usually consists of a keg party at someone’s house later, all the talk aggressive and self-congratulatory. Here, tonight, everyone is so nice about it, like they weren’t sure themselves that they could do it, and are just so awed by the whole experience.
They go back to the hotel afterwards, and Puck sticks around to be counted for roll call, but all he really wants to do is sneak out for a celebratory drink. Finn’s not interested, but Kurt’s in the room too, and surprises Puck by saying yes when the offer turns to him. So he takes Kurt out for a drink, and tries to pretend this isn’t a gay thing, despite the fact that they just came from a fucking show choir win, and this is as close to a date as anything they’ve ever done together.
Which is how they got to this point- they’re stumbling down the hall towards their room at just after 11, and Kurt is rip-roaring drunk. The room is empty when they push their way in, giggling at something Puck can’t quite remember even though it just happened ten seconds ago; he’s lost it in the sound of Kurt’s high-pitched laugh, and anyway, he’s using too much concentration to close the door without slamming it unnecessarily.
The room is empty; Finn is probably out making time with Rachel, or maybe Quinn- it’s impossible to keep up with his love life from one moment to the next. Kurt makes his way over to the bed and lowers himself down on it, seeming grateful for the stable, steady object. “Everything’s spinning,” he remarks in a loud, breathy voice.
Puck sighs and shakes his head. “First time you’ve ever been drunk, huh, man?” he says, and takes Kurt’s silly smile as a yes. So he goes into the bathroom and gets the kid a glass of water, just because he knows he probably should if he doesn’t want to wake up to the sounds of vomiting later tonight, or a roommate with a ridiculous headache the next morning. Kurt takes it and starts drinking automatically, and Puck stays near on the bed in case he drops it. He tries to push back the feeling of gravitational force pulling him towards that other warm body. He’s not drunk enough to blame it on the alcohol.
He’s so preoccupied with resisting the urge to move closer that he doesn’t even realize that Kurt’s been talking this whole time, in between sips of water that he seems to be taking in the middle of sentences. Puck shakes his head to clear it and tries to pick up the thread of the conversation. “What are we talking about again?” he has to ask, dumbly, when no common topic becomes clear.
The comment stops Kurt, and he thinks blankly for a second before his eyes light up with plain amusement. “I have no idea,” he blurts out. “Maybe I should...maybe I should go to bed.” He starts tilting in that direction, and giggles softly as Puck catches the glass, taking it from him and leaning to place it on the bedside table before it can fall to the floor.
Kurt collapses bonelessly onto the bed, and Puck tumbles down with him, their arms and legs somehow tangled together. They chuckle nervously, and Puck says, “Sorry, man, I’ll just move over here,” even though he doesn’t actually change positions at all.
“Yeah,” Kurt slurs, nudging him gently on the arm as though to push him away. “Wouldn’t want anything untoward to happen.”
Puck blinks down at him. “Did you just say ‘untoward’?”
Kurt nods. “You don’t even know what that means,” he states, and Puck would take offense at that, except that Kurt’s pairing it with this dopey grin, and he says it fondly. His hand hasn’t moved from where it landed on Puck’s arm a minute ago.
“Guess I don’t,” Puck murmurs, and all of a sudden he’s kissing Kurt, almost before he realizes it’s happening. He can’t really recall who started it, but he has the sneaking suspicion it was him. Either way, he thinks dimly, the whole thing is his fault, since he was the one who suggested going out for drinks. He relaxes into the kiss, his head feeling light and dizzy; they had about the same amount to drink, but Kurt’s a lightweight and got drunk a lot quicker. It doesn’t seem to be affecting his ability to kiss, though; Puck’s become somewhat of an expert at alcohol-fueled makeout sessions, and Kurt’s lips are confident on his, as if kissing a man is nothing new in his world.
Which is strange, because Puck suspects that it is new, that Kurt has never done this before and this shouldn’t be so easy for either of them. Maybe if they weren’t drunk they would hesitate, pull away; maybe then Kurt would be nervous and shaking and Puck would get all manly and smug. That seems about right. And the substance in his bloodstream is the only reason he can see that none of that is happening right now.
They disconnect, and Puck’s head immediately drops to Kurt’s shoulder; distantly he feels the boy’s hand come up to run through the vertical line of hair that he hasn’t shaved off. Puck’s feeling sleepy now, as though a weight is gone and he can finally rest, and Kurt’s half-closed eyes tell him that his bedmate is partially dozing already. Against his better judgment, he pushes himself up on the pillow, and lets Kurt burrow into his neck gratefully, his mouth falling open in such a way that Puck knows there’ll be drool on his shoulder when he wakes up.
He can already picture how this is going to go. Finn’ll come in and see the two of them in bed together, and the next morning Puck will play it off as nothing, saying how they had too much to drink last night and making a crack about how gay it is that Kurt wanted to cuddle. The kid only had the one glass of water, so he’ll probably be hungover the next day, cranky until he gets a double shot of coffee and show tunes on his iPod. They’ll sit apart on the bus, and when they listen to the others trading memories of the night before, they’ll both feel a little warm- both about the competition and about what happened next- but neither of them will say anything to the other.
Or maybe it won’t be that way. Maybe as they go back to their room to finish packing after breakfast, Puck will pull Kurt into a side hallway and kiss him, fingers easing the aftershocks of post-drinking headache that the coffee couldn’t kill. Maybe Kurt will sit right behind him and Finn on the bus, and childishly reach over to stick one of his earbuds in Puck’s ear to play him “Memory” or “Can’t Stop Loving Dat Man” while Puck rolls his eyes at Finn, despite the fact that his eyes connect with Kurt’s in a shared moment every time their hands brush. Maybe this will be the start of a new thing, hidden away in locker rooms and encounters in the auditorium after glee club rehearsal, making a strange kind of sense that neither of them can understand.
He’ll just have to wait and see until the next morning.
Title: "Under the Influence"
Fandom/Pairing: "Glee," Puck/Kurt
Rating: PG
Also posted at: gleeslash
Summary: After winning Regionals, Puck takes Kurt out for a celebratory drink and gets him ridiculously drunk.
After they win, they go to dinner. Mr. Schue makes a toast, and the group is chatty and wild, high on the adrenaline from their performance. Puck takes it all in, staying mostly with the jocks but occasionally tuning in to the conversations across the table. He doesn’t know what to make of this whole thing. It’s different from a football win, where celebration usually consists of a keg party at someone’s house later, all the talk aggressive and self-congratulatory. Here, tonight, everyone is so nice about it, like they weren’t sure themselves that they could do it, and are just so awed by the whole experience.
They go back to the hotel afterwards, and Puck sticks around to be counted for roll call, but all he really wants to do is sneak out for a celebratory drink. Finn’s not interested, but Kurt’s in the room too, and surprises Puck by saying yes when the offer turns to him. So he takes Kurt out for a drink, and tries to pretend this isn’t a gay thing, despite the fact that they just came from a fucking show choir win, and this is as close to a date as anything they’ve ever done together.
Which is how they got to this point- they’re stumbling down the hall towards their room at just after 11, and Kurt is rip-roaring drunk. The room is empty when they push their way in, giggling at something Puck can’t quite remember even though it just happened ten seconds ago; he’s lost it in the sound of Kurt’s high-pitched laugh, and anyway, he’s using too much concentration to close the door without slamming it unnecessarily.
The room is empty; Finn is probably out making time with Rachel, or maybe Quinn- it’s impossible to keep up with his love life from one moment to the next. Kurt makes his way over to the bed and lowers himself down on it, seeming grateful for the stable, steady object. “Everything’s spinning,” he remarks in a loud, breathy voice.
Puck sighs and shakes his head. “First time you’ve ever been drunk, huh, man?” he says, and takes Kurt’s silly smile as a yes. So he goes into the bathroom and gets the kid a glass of water, just because he knows he probably should if he doesn’t want to wake up to the sounds of vomiting later tonight, or a roommate with a ridiculous headache the next morning. Kurt takes it and starts drinking automatically, and Puck stays near on the bed in case he drops it. He tries to push back the feeling of gravitational force pulling him towards that other warm body. He’s not drunk enough to blame it on the alcohol.
He’s so preoccupied with resisting the urge to move closer that he doesn’t even realize that Kurt’s been talking this whole time, in between sips of water that he seems to be taking in the middle of sentences. Puck shakes his head to clear it and tries to pick up the thread of the conversation. “What are we talking about again?” he has to ask, dumbly, when no common topic becomes clear.
The comment stops Kurt, and he thinks blankly for a second before his eyes light up with plain amusement. “I have no idea,” he blurts out. “Maybe I should...maybe I should go to bed.” He starts tilting in that direction, and giggles softly as Puck catches the glass, taking it from him and leaning to place it on the bedside table before it can fall to the floor.
Kurt collapses bonelessly onto the bed, and Puck tumbles down with him, their arms and legs somehow tangled together. They chuckle nervously, and Puck says, “Sorry, man, I’ll just move over here,” even though he doesn’t actually change positions at all.
“Yeah,” Kurt slurs, nudging him gently on the arm as though to push him away. “Wouldn’t want anything untoward to happen.”
Puck blinks down at him. “Did you just say ‘untoward’?”
Kurt nods. “You don’t even know what that means,” he states, and Puck would take offense at that, except that Kurt’s pairing it with this dopey grin, and he says it fondly. His hand hasn’t moved from where it landed on Puck’s arm a minute ago.
“Guess I don’t,” Puck murmurs, and all of a sudden he’s kissing Kurt, almost before he realizes it’s happening. He can’t really recall who started it, but he has the sneaking suspicion it was him. Either way, he thinks dimly, the whole thing is his fault, since he was the one who suggested going out for drinks. He relaxes into the kiss, his head feeling light and dizzy; they had about the same amount to drink, but Kurt’s a lightweight and got drunk a lot quicker. It doesn’t seem to be affecting his ability to kiss, though; Puck’s become somewhat of an expert at alcohol-fueled makeout sessions, and Kurt’s lips are confident on his, as if kissing a man is nothing new in his world.
Which is strange, because Puck suspects that it is new, that Kurt has never done this before and this shouldn’t be so easy for either of them. Maybe if they weren’t drunk they would hesitate, pull away; maybe then Kurt would be nervous and shaking and Puck would get all manly and smug. That seems about right. And the substance in his bloodstream is the only reason he can see that none of that is happening right now.
They disconnect, and Puck’s head immediately drops to Kurt’s shoulder; distantly he feels the boy’s hand come up to run through the vertical line of hair that he hasn’t shaved off. Puck’s feeling sleepy now, as though a weight is gone and he can finally rest, and Kurt’s half-closed eyes tell him that his bedmate is partially dozing already. Against his better judgment, he pushes himself up on the pillow, and lets Kurt burrow into his neck gratefully, his mouth falling open in such a way that Puck knows there’ll be drool on his shoulder when he wakes up.
He can already picture how this is going to go. Finn’ll come in and see the two of them in bed together, and the next morning Puck will play it off as nothing, saying how they had too much to drink last night and making a crack about how gay it is that Kurt wanted to cuddle. The kid only had the one glass of water, so he’ll probably be hungover the next day, cranky until he gets a double shot of coffee and show tunes on his iPod. They’ll sit apart on the bus, and when they listen to the others trading memories of the night before, they’ll both feel a little warm- both about the competition and about what happened next- but neither of them will say anything to the other.
Or maybe it won’t be that way. Maybe as they go back to their room to finish packing after breakfast, Puck will pull Kurt into a side hallway and kiss him, fingers easing the aftershocks of post-drinking headache that the coffee couldn’t kill. Maybe Kurt will sit right behind him and Finn on the bus, and childishly reach over to stick one of his earbuds in Puck’s ear to play him “Memory” or “Can’t Stop Loving Dat Man” while Puck rolls his eyes at Finn, despite the fact that his eyes connect with Kurt’s in a shared moment every time their hands brush. Maybe this will be the start of a new thing, hidden away in locker rooms and encounters in the auditorium after glee club rehearsal, making a strange kind of sense that neither of them can understand.
He’ll just have to wait and see until the next morning.