Fatherhood: A Guide 2/5
Title: Fatherhood: A Guide (Or, How Noah Puckerman and Blaine Anderson Survive Being Husbands, Stay-at-home Dads, and Badass New Yorkers)
Author: eyesarmslove
Type: Multipart
Rating: NC-17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, Blaine/?, Puck/Blaine friendship (gasp!)
Genre: Futurefic
Warning: None
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Author Notes: Future kid!fic.
Summary: Puck was digging the dad gig. That is, he was, until the new neighbors arrive
Word Count: 3000, this part (8,600 overall)
Part One
Puck woke up the next morning feeling boneless and exhausted, his nerves still tingling pleasantly from the intense orgasm last night. A smug, satisfied smirk made its way across his sleep-filled face. When he turned to kiss Kurt, he rolled over to an empty bed. The resulting groan was a mix of disappointment and pain. His muscles protested the movement and he cursed getting older for the hundredth time.
He laid there on his front for a couple of minutes, willing his body to go back to sleep when his brain finally woke up. Oh shit, Ziva’s gonna be late. He glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table and jumped out of bed. 7:30. He had fifteen minutes to get Ziva dressed and out of the house. Puck swore when he hit his head on the doorframe in his haste to get into Ziva’s room.
“Baby, it’s time to get-” The words caught in his throat at the humbling sight of his daughter sitting cross-legged on her bed, fully dressed for the day.
“Good morning, Daddy! Do you like my dress?” Puck stared as she modeled her floral print dress, perfectly situated on her tiny body.
“How did-”
“Daddy!” she shrieked, startling him. “You’re not ready yet! I have a field trip today!” Oh hell, that’s today? Fuckfuckfuck.
“Crap! Sorry, baby, I’ll be ready in a sec and I’ll make your lunch and then we can go, okay?”
“Daddy, Papa made me lunch!” She held up her Batgirl lunch box proudly.
Puck let out a relieved sigh, Score one for the hot husband. “I’ll be back in a sec, let me put on shoes.”
“Daddy?” Puck turned back to his daughter, “You smell funny.” He took a second to sniff his body odor, I don’t smell that bad, just like Kurt and sex-oh.
“Okay, baby. Stay right there while I shower. Five minutes!” He ran out of the room and jumped into the shower. Maybe Kurt and I should forget about sex on weekdays. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he blanched. Fuck, I really am getting old.
The crisp April air sent a shiver through Puck’s still damp body when the two Hummel-Puckermans made their way down the stoop exactly eight minutes later. Nice day for a field trip.
“Ready to go, Zivs?” Ziva looked up at her daddy and placed her pink sunglasses on her eyes, nodding.
“Ready, Daddy.”
His daughter was such a badass. “Awesome.” The pair walked through the gate and onto the sidewalk when someone called out to them.
“Puck, Ziva!” Puck groaned and turned reluctantly.
“Anderson.” Blaine and his son were walking out of the doorway of their own house and made their way down the steps.
“Hi, Xander!” Ziva ran to the suddenly scared boy, who tried to hide behind his father’s legs. Ziva was not to be deterred.
“What are you doing back there? Hey, you have a Superman lunchbox! That’s so cool. He’s okay, but Batman’s better. Do you like Batman?” she was talking a mile a minute and Puck couldn’t help but grin at her determination.
Blaine burst into laughter, “She’s a mini-Kurt!” Puck scowled, brief good mood gone. He agreed, of course, but the bastard had no right making assumptions about his family.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Hey, are you two headed to school?”
Puck nodded, warily, “Yeah, why?”
Blaine smiled, “Excellent! Mind if we walk with you?”
“What?”
“To school.” Blaine had a knowing smile on his face, “Remember? Kurt told me last night that Ziva went to the same school I registered Xander in.”
Puck stifled his groan, “Right.” He remembered no such thing, of course. Blatantly tuning out conversation did that. “Well, we should hurry. There’s a field trip today and they leave on time.”
“Of course! Come on, Xander, Ziva. Let’s go.” He turned to Puck, “It’s only a few blocks away, right?”
Puck nodded and fell into step with the shorter man, the two behind their children. Ziva grabbed Xander’s hand and forced him to walk with her as she marched on. Blaine laughed softly next to Puck, prompting him to look over.
Blaine shook his head, “Xander’s very shy and Ziva…isn’t. Their interaction is great to see, that’s all.”
A fond smile made its way on Puck’s face, “Yeah, her teacher says she’s the most popular girl in her class. Kurt says it’s from natural personality. I say it’s ‘cause she’s so freaking loud.”
Blaine laughed, “Whatever works.” The two fell into a somewhat comfortable silence, choosing to observe their kids’ conversation.
They arrived at the school right in time for Xander and Ziva to get on the school bus. Blaine went over to talk to Xander’s teacher and Puck took the opportunity to talk to Ziva privately.
“Hey short stuff, talk to me for a sec.” Ziva ran over from her assembled group of friends, backpack bouncing up and down in sync with her curls.
“What’s up, Daddy?” Puck kneeled down so that they were face to face.
“I want you to do something for me.” Ziva’s face lit up in preemptive excitement. “Xander is new and doesn’t know anyone.”
“Yes, he does. He knows me!” Puck chuckled.
“You’re right, baby. My mistake. He doesn’t know anyone in his class.” Ziva nodded, understanding.
“Do you want me to play with him today so he’s not sad?”
God, I love this kid. “Yes, baby, that’s exactly what I want. Do you think you can do that for me?”
“Of course I can, Daddy!” She wrapped her short arms around his neck and squeezed. Puck hugged her back, taking a moment to soak up the feeling of his incredible daughter.
“Okay, Zivs, have fun.” She took off in flash, racing toward Xander who was standing by himself in front of the school bus.
“HEY GUYS, I’M GONNA PLAY WITH XANDER TODAY ‘CAUSE HE DOESN’T HAVE ANY FRIENDS, BUT HE’S REALLY COOL.” Puck smacked himself in the forehead, This kid has as much concept of subtlety as Kurt does.
Xander, whose face could not hold any more color, Puck was sure, looked to be fighting between being relieved and terrified at the attention.
“She has quite the set of lungs, doesn’t she?” Puck jumped as Blaine appeared next to him, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Uh, yeah, sorry about-”
Blaine waved him off, “Please. I’m glad Xander has someone so…strong looking out for him. Thank you, really.”
Puck shrugged, “Xander seems like a righteous dude, didn’t want him to feel left out.”
Blaine bowed his head, “Thanks, Puck. That means a lot.” He pointed his thumb the direction in which they came, “Going home?” Puck nodded and the two left in step, but not before waving their offspring off.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but Blaine started talking anyway. Puck sighed internally, did he really have to hear this?
“I’m glad that the field trip will give them more time at school, unpacking is hectic and I know Xander is getting bored just watching me put the house together.”
“Did your husband make it yet?”
Blaine chuckled, “Uh, no. He’ll be here in time for the Fourth of July, hopefully.” Puck stopped in his tracks. Blaine paused in his walking and turned back to the stunned man, “What?”
“Where the hell is he?” Blaine looked confused at Puck’s abrupt irritation.
“In the Middle East. He’s a contractor, overseeing the rebuilding of half a city over there.”
Puck, for one, was shell-shocked at Blaine’s casual acceptance of his partner’s absence. He was pissed and he didn’t even like Blaine. Family was family, nothing was more important. Puck grew up without a father. He didn’t want to admit it, but it fucked him up big time. It was part of the reason that he insisted on staying home with Ziva and not getting a nanny. Not to mention the fact that Puck would literally go insane if Kurt wasn’t there to help him. Just knowing that he had someone to be a partner and pick up slack every once in a while helped Puck believe that Ziva would grow up without any major detriments (Kurt would argue that genetics killed that particular pipe dream, but his husband was a bitch). To be perfectly honest, Puck had no idea how Blaine was surviving.
“How the fuck are you going to pull that off?” He face palmed mentally. Tact, Puck could hear his inner voice (which sounded like Kurt, funnily enough) say, get some.
To his credit, Blaine just laughed, “Hell if I know. I’ll deal with the next three months after I excavate our lives out of brown boxes.” His attempt at nonchalance was undermined by the sadness Puck could see in his eyes. “Xander and I miss him, but it needed to be done and it’s the last overseas project he’ll ever have to do.”
Puck nodded and started to walk, prompting Blaine to do the same. Before long, they were standing on the sidewalk in front of Blaine’s house.
“Thanks for the company, Puck. I’ll see you later.” He turned and made his way up the stoop. He was unlocking the door when Puck made his decision.
“Let me help.” Blaine’s shoulders squared before he turned back to Puck, who was standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets.
“What?”
“Let me help. I have nothing to do and I’m fucking tired of cooking, so I’ll just order in when Kurt comes home. The spawn won’t be back until three and I’ll go insane if I watch daytime TV.”
Blaine’s eyes were wide with shock, but he nodded, “That would be awesome, Puck.”
Puck took the steps two at a time and shouldered his way past Blaine into the house, “Whatever. man. Do you have any idea how fucking annoying Maury is? Fucking douche.”
Three hours later, Puck almost regretted his act of charity. He hated unpacking. Constantly asking Blaine where the hell everything went got old two and a half hours ago, but between them, the two men figured it out. Every time Puck got tired of removing dishes from newspaper and packing tape or shelving books in the living room, he would look over to Blaine who was doing the same and realized how shitty it would be to do this alone. Puck shook his head as he place the last of the songbooks on the shelf.
“Time for a break, I think.” Blaine lifted himself off his knees from where he was assembling the coffee table. “How about we take this out for a spin by drinking a cup of coffee?”
Puck let out a sigh of relief, “Fuck, yes. Woke up late today and didn’t have enough time to grab a cup.”
Blaine’s lips twitched in amusement as he walked past Puck and into the kitchen, “Yeah, I bet. Late night?” He smirked at Puck, who shrugged and smirked back.
“Dudes don’t fuck and tell, Anderson.”
Blaine barked in surprised laughter, “You don’t need to tell, Puckerman, I heard you two loud and clear. Did you know that our bedrooms are adjacent to one another?”
“You don’t say?” Puck’s shit-eating grin was ridiculously large and he knew it, “So sorry.”
Blaine snorted and handed Puck a mug with the freshly brewed coffee, “Wow, it’s been fifteen years and you still haven’t managed to at least fake sincerity.” He grabbed his own cup and walked back to the living room, claiming the armchair by the window. Puck followed and sat on the love seat across from him. They sat for a few minutes, enjoying their coffee.
“Thanks for the help, Puck. I really appreciate it. The bookshelf alone would have taken me all day.” Puck shrugged off the praise.
“Don’t mention it. We still have three kid-free hours. We can finish off the kitchen and dining room, no problem.”
Blaine’s head fell back and he yelled to the ceiling, “Yes! I might actually be able to finish the upstairs after dinner and Xander can sleep in his own bed and not on a mattress on the floor like some crack whore.”
Puck, who had just taken a sip of his drink, snorted and spilled the liquid all over his front. Blaine jumped up, “Shit, sorry! Do you want a shirt? I have some that are big on me, so they’ll probably fit you-”
Puck waved him off, “Forget it. This shirt is a goner anyway and I don’t mind. Calm yourself, Pretty Boy.” Blaine sat down with a sigh.
“My husband calls me that, you know.” Puck caught himself before spitting his coffee out again.
“Okay, awkward. Anderson it is, then.”
“Or you know, Blaine.”
Puck pretended to mull it over, “Nah, Anderson works.” Blaine rolled his eyes.
“So, why did he have to?”
Blaine raised a quizzical eyebrow, “Why did who have to do what?”
“Your husband. Why’d he have to go overseas?”
Blaine’s previously jovial face disappeared and a somber one took its place, “Oh.” His gaze fell to the mug resting in his hands, “It was a big contract and the only way we could afford this place. I write for the New Yorker, but it’s only a small column and doesn’t pay very well. My husband is the primary breadwinner.” He sighed heavily before raising his gaze to meet Puck’s eyes and smiled, “But, it’s the last project that will take him more than a couple of hours away, so we said ‘What the hell?’ It took me a while to get our shit together for the move, but I made it. And I can’t believe our good luck to have moved next door to familiar faces.”
Guilt settled in Puck’s stomach. He was cursing every deity known to man yesterday and here Blaine was, lonely and thankful for being neighbors with him and Kurt. The shame quieted any conversation on his side.
“So,” Blaine prompted, after a couple of beats, “You’re a stay at home dad?” Puck nodded.
“Yeah. When we had Ziva, Kurt’s job was way better than mine and he was made to work, you know?”
“I can see that.”
“He loves his job and I like the housewife gig. It worked out.”
Blaine leaned forward, “I was meaning to ask Kurt yesterday, but didn’t get a chance. How did he break into the business so soon? He’s been working at the interior design firm for a while, right?”
Puck blinked, “Uh, yeah. Nine years, I think. He didn’t plan on it, but he likes it a lot.”
“He went to school for fashion?”
“Yeah. He did internships during school and hated it. Too many catty bitches.” Puck snorted, “Kurt can dish it out, but can’t swallow his own shit.” Blaine laughed. “He graduated and got hired as gofer for an interior design firm.”
“Gofer?”
“You know, go-for this, go-for that. He was someone’s bitch.” Blaine nodded in understanding.
“So, he worked his way up? In so little time?”
“Yeah, if you want to call it that.” Blaine’s puzzled look prompted Puck to explain. “Kurt, the crafty jackass he was, went over his boss’ boss’ head and presented his design for a big-shot lawyer’s office. The lawyer loved it and Kurt was promoted to fulltime designer a week later. Now he’s a head designer.”
Blaine whistled, “Wow. I mean, it’s Kurt, I’m not surprised, but damn.”
“Tell me about it.”
“How’d you two meet? I mean, again. You didn’t date during college, right?”
Puck snorted, “No, Kurt was here in New York and I went to Ohio State. We hooked up two years out of college. I moved to live with my cousin in the West Village and worked odd jobs here and there. I was working as a bouncer for this gay club a few blocks away from my apartment one night when I had to throw this handsy drunk guy off another dude. That’s when I saw Kurt again.”
Blaine’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, “You saved Kurt from being sexually assaulted?”
Puck laughed, “Kurt was the handsy drunk guy. I had to rip him off of this poor schmuck.”
It took a while for Blaine to stop laughing.
They got back to work, dividing the kitchen boxes between them. Their conversation didn’t stop, Puck subtly gauging whether or not his new neighbor was going to wreck the neighborhood suicide statistics (not one in 48 years!) and Blaine being completely oblivious to his companion’s ulterior motives, chatting away happily while sorting the cookware. It was only when Blaine was setting the clock on the oven did the two men realize they had fifteen minutes until their children needed to be picked up. Puck got up from his place on the floor, where he was attempting to organize the kitchen cleansers in the cabinet under the sink.
“You know you’ve been doing the housewife gig too long when you stack Clorox next to the Windex because of color coordination.” Puck grimaced, “Fuck, that was gay.”
Blaine chuckled, “You know, I was going to say it, but you beat me to it.”
“Shut it, Anderson, and get your queer-ass loafers on, the spawn will be back soon and the teachers hate it when parents are late.”
Blaine mumbled incoherently under his breath as he ran to the door where his “queer-ass loafers” were. After he slipped his feet into them, he motioned to the front door with a toss of his curly head, “Ready?”
“I’m never ready for the terrorist to get back from a field trip, but Kurt would kill me for trying to pawn her off again,” Puck said as he slipped past the stunned Blaine and out into the cool spring air.
“Again?”
Author: eyesarmslove
Type: Multipart
Rating: NC-17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, Blaine/?, Puck/Blaine friendship (gasp!)
Genre: Futurefic
Warning: None
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Author Notes: Future kid!fic.
Summary: Puck was digging the dad gig. That is, he was, until the new neighbors arrive
Word Count: 3000, this part (8,600 overall)
Part One
Puck woke up the next morning feeling boneless and exhausted, his nerves still tingling pleasantly from the intense orgasm last night. A smug, satisfied smirk made its way across his sleep-filled face. When he turned to kiss Kurt, he rolled over to an empty bed. The resulting groan was a mix of disappointment and pain. His muscles protested the movement and he cursed getting older for the hundredth time.
He laid there on his front for a couple of minutes, willing his body to go back to sleep when his brain finally woke up. Oh shit, Ziva’s gonna be late. He glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table and jumped out of bed. 7:30. He had fifteen minutes to get Ziva dressed and out of the house. Puck swore when he hit his head on the doorframe in his haste to get into Ziva’s room.
“Baby, it’s time to get-” The words caught in his throat at the humbling sight of his daughter sitting cross-legged on her bed, fully dressed for the day.
“Good morning, Daddy! Do you like my dress?” Puck stared as she modeled her floral print dress, perfectly situated on her tiny body.
“How did-”
“Daddy!” she shrieked, startling him. “You’re not ready yet! I have a field trip today!” Oh hell, that’s today? Fuckfuckfuck.
“Crap! Sorry, baby, I’ll be ready in a sec and I’ll make your lunch and then we can go, okay?”
“Daddy, Papa made me lunch!” She held up her Batgirl lunch box proudly.
Puck let out a relieved sigh, Score one for the hot husband. “I’ll be back in a sec, let me put on shoes.”
“Daddy?” Puck turned back to his daughter, “You smell funny.” He took a second to sniff his body odor, I don’t smell that bad, just like Kurt and sex-oh.
“Okay, baby. Stay right there while I shower. Five minutes!” He ran out of the room and jumped into the shower. Maybe Kurt and I should forget about sex on weekdays. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he blanched. Fuck, I really am getting old.
The crisp April air sent a shiver through Puck’s still damp body when the two Hummel-Puckermans made their way down the stoop exactly eight minutes later. Nice day for a field trip.
“Ready to go, Zivs?” Ziva looked up at her daddy and placed her pink sunglasses on her eyes, nodding.
“Ready, Daddy.”
His daughter was such a badass. “Awesome.” The pair walked through the gate and onto the sidewalk when someone called out to them.
“Puck, Ziva!” Puck groaned and turned reluctantly.
“Anderson.” Blaine and his son were walking out of the doorway of their own house and made their way down the steps.
“Hi, Xander!” Ziva ran to the suddenly scared boy, who tried to hide behind his father’s legs. Ziva was not to be deterred.
“What are you doing back there? Hey, you have a Superman lunchbox! That’s so cool. He’s okay, but Batman’s better. Do you like Batman?” she was talking a mile a minute and Puck couldn’t help but grin at her determination.
Blaine burst into laughter, “She’s a mini-Kurt!” Puck scowled, brief good mood gone. He agreed, of course, but the bastard had no right making assumptions about his family.
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Hey, are you two headed to school?”
Puck nodded, warily, “Yeah, why?”
Blaine smiled, “Excellent! Mind if we walk with you?”
“What?”
“To school.” Blaine had a knowing smile on his face, “Remember? Kurt told me last night that Ziva went to the same school I registered Xander in.”
Puck stifled his groan, “Right.” He remembered no such thing, of course. Blatantly tuning out conversation did that. “Well, we should hurry. There’s a field trip today and they leave on time.”
“Of course! Come on, Xander, Ziva. Let’s go.” He turned to Puck, “It’s only a few blocks away, right?”
Puck nodded and fell into step with the shorter man, the two behind their children. Ziva grabbed Xander’s hand and forced him to walk with her as she marched on. Blaine laughed softly next to Puck, prompting him to look over.
Blaine shook his head, “Xander’s very shy and Ziva…isn’t. Their interaction is great to see, that’s all.”
A fond smile made its way on Puck’s face, “Yeah, her teacher says she’s the most popular girl in her class. Kurt says it’s from natural personality. I say it’s ‘cause she’s so freaking loud.”
Blaine laughed, “Whatever works.” The two fell into a somewhat comfortable silence, choosing to observe their kids’ conversation.
They arrived at the school right in time for Xander and Ziva to get on the school bus. Blaine went over to talk to Xander’s teacher and Puck took the opportunity to talk to Ziva privately.
“Hey short stuff, talk to me for a sec.” Ziva ran over from her assembled group of friends, backpack bouncing up and down in sync with her curls.
“What’s up, Daddy?” Puck kneeled down so that they were face to face.
“I want you to do something for me.” Ziva’s face lit up in preemptive excitement. “Xander is new and doesn’t know anyone.”
“Yes, he does. He knows me!” Puck chuckled.
“You’re right, baby. My mistake. He doesn’t know anyone in his class.” Ziva nodded, understanding.
“Do you want me to play with him today so he’s not sad?”
God, I love this kid. “Yes, baby, that’s exactly what I want. Do you think you can do that for me?”
“Of course I can, Daddy!” She wrapped her short arms around his neck and squeezed. Puck hugged her back, taking a moment to soak up the feeling of his incredible daughter.
“Okay, Zivs, have fun.” She took off in flash, racing toward Xander who was standing by himself in front of the school bus.
“HEY GUYS, I’M GONNA PLAY WITH XANDER TODAY ‘CAUSE HE DOESN’T HAVE ANY FRIENDS, BUT HE’S REALLY COOL.” Puck smacked himself in the forehead, This kid has as much concept of subtlety as Kurt does.
Xander, whose face could not hold any more color, Puck was sure, looked to be fighting between being relieved and terrified at the attention.
“She has quite the set of lungs, doesn’t she?” Puck jumped as Blaine appeared next to him, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Uh, yeah, sorry about-”
Blaine waved him off, “Please. I’m glad Xander has someone so…strong looking out for him. Thank you, really.”
Puck shrugged, “Xander seems like a righteous dude, didn’t want him to feel left out.”
Blaine bowed his head, “Thanks, Puck. That means a lot.” He pointed his thumb the direction in which they came, “Going home?” Puck nodded and the two left in step, but not before waving their offspring off.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but Blaine started talking anyway. Puck sighed internally, did he really have to hear this?
“I’m glad that the field trip will give them more time at school, unpacking is hectic and I know Xander is getting bored just watching me put the house together.”
“Did your husband make it yet?”
Blaine chuckled, “Uh, no. He’ll be here in time for the Fourth of July, hopefully.” Puck stopped in his tracks. Blaine paused in his walking and turned back to the stunned man, “What?”
“Where the hell is he?” Blaine looked confused at Puck’s abrupt irritation.
“In the Middle East. He’s a contractor, overseeing the rebuilding of half a city over there.”
Puck, for one, was shell-shocked at Blaine’s casual acceptance of his partner’s absence. He was pissed and he didn’t even like Blaine. Family was family, nothing was more important. Puck grew up without a father. He didn’t want to admit it, but it fucked him up big time. It was part of the reason that he insisted on staying home with Ziva and not getting a nanny. Not to mention the fact that Puck would literally go insane if Kurt wasn’t there to help him. Just knowing that he had someone to be a partner and pick up slack every once in a while helped Puck believe that Ziva would grow up without any major detriments (Kurt would argue that genetics killed that particular pipe dream, but his husband was a bitch). To be perfectly honest, Puck had no idea how Blaine was surviving.
“How the fuck are you going to pull that off?” He face palmed mentally. Tact, Puck could hear his inner voice (which sounded like Kurt, funnily enough) say, get some.
To his credit, Blaine just laughed, “Hell if I know. I’ll deal with the next three months after I excavate our lives out of brown boxes.” His attempt at nonchalance was undermined by the sadness Puck could see in his eyes. “Xander and I miss him, but it needed to be done and it’s the last overseas project he’ll ever have to do.”
Puck nodded and started to walk, prompting Blaine to do the same. Before long, they were standing on the sidewalk in front of Blaine’s house.
“Thanks for the company, Puck. I’ll see you later.” He turned and made his way up the stoop. He was unlocking the door when Puck made his decision.
“Let me help.” Blaine’s shoulders squared before he turned back to Puck, who was standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets.
“What?”
“Let me help. I have nothing to do and I’m fucking tired of cooking, so I’ll just order in when Kurt comes home. The spawn won’t be back until three and I’ll go insane if I watch daytime TV.”
Blaine’s eyes were wide with shock, but he nodded, “That would be awesome, Puck.”
Puck took the steps two at a time and shouldered his way past Blaine into the house, “Whatever. man. Do you have any idea how fucking annoying Maury is? Fucking douche.”
Three hours later, Puck almost regretted his act of charity. He hated unpacking. Constantly asking Blaine where the hell everything went got old two and a half hours ago, but between them, the two men figured it out. Every time Puck got tired of removing dishes from newspaper and packing tape or shelving books in the living room, he would look over to Blaine who was doing the same and realized how shitty it would be to do this alone. Puck shook his head as he place the last of the songbooks on the shelf.
“Time for a break, I think.” Blaine lifted himself off his knees from where he was assembling the coffee table. “How about we take this out for a spin by drinking a cup of coffee?”
Puck let out a sigh of relief, “Fuck, yes. Woke up late today and didn’t have enough time to grab a cup.”
Blaine’s lips twitched in amusement as he walked past Puck and into the kitchen, “Yeah, I bet. Late night?” He smirked at Puck, who shrugged and smirked back.
“Dudes don’t fuck and tell, Anderson.”
Blaine barked in surprised laughter, “You don’t need to tell, Puckerman, I heard you two loud and clear. Did you know that our bedrooms are adjacent to one another?”
“You don’t say?” Puck’s shit-eating grin was ridiculously large and he knew it, “So sorry.”
Blaine snorted and handed Puck a mug with the freshly brewed coffee, “Wow, it’s been fifteen years and you still haven’t managed to at least fake sincerity.” He grabbed his own cup and walked back to the living room, claiming the armchair by the window. Puck followed and sat on the love seat across from him. They sat for a few minutes, enjoying their coffee.
“Thanks for the help, Puck. I really appreciate it. The bookshelf alone would have taken me all day.” Puck shrugged off the praise.
“Don’t mention it. We still have three kid-free hours. We can finish off the kitchen and dining room, no problem.”
Blaine’s head fell back and he yelled to the ceiling, “Yes! I might actually be able to finish the upstairs after dinner and Xander can sleep in his own bed and not on a mattress on the floor like some crack whore.”
Puck, who had just taken a sip of his drink, snorted and spilled the liquid all over his front. Blaine jumped up, “Shit, sorry! Do you want a shirt? I have some that are big on me, so they’ll probably fit you-”
Puck waved him off, “Forget it. This shirt is a goner anyway and I don’t mind. Calm yourself, Pretty Boy.” Blaine sat down with a sigh.
“My husband calls me that, you know.” Puck caught himself before spitting his coffee out again.
“Okay, awkward. Anderson it is, then.”
“Or you know, Blaine.”
Puck pretended to mull it over, “Nah, Anderson works.” Blaine rolled his eyes.
“So, why did he have to?”
Blaine raised a quizzical eyebrow, “Why did who have to do what?”
“Your husband. Why’d he have to go overseas?”
Blaine’s previously jovial face disappeared and a somber one took its place, “Oh.” His gaze fell to the mug resting in his hands, “It was a big contract and the only way we could afford this place. I write for the New Yorker, but it’s only a small column and doesn’t pay very well. My husband is the primary breadwinner.” He sighed heavily before raising his gaze to meet Puck’s eyes and smiled, “But, it’s the last project that will take him more than a couple of hours away, so we said ‘What the hell?’ It took me a while to get our shit together for the move, but I made it. And I can’t believe our good luck to have moved next door to familiar faces.”
Guilt settled in Puck’s stomach. He was cursing every deity known to man yesterday and here Blaine was, lonely and thankful for being neighbors with him and Kurt. The shame quieted any conversation on his side.
“So,” Blaine prompted, after a couple of beats, “You’re a stay at home dad?” Puck nodded.
“Yeah. When we had Ziva, Kurt’s job was way better than mine and he was made to work, you know?”
“I can see that.”
“He loves his job and I like the housewife gig. It worked out.”
Blaine leaned forward, “I was meaning to ask Kurt yesterday, but didn’t get a chance. How did he break into the business so soon? He’s been working at the interior design firm for a while, right?”
Puck blinked, “Uh, yeah. Nine years, I think. He didn’t plan on it, but he likes it a lot.”
“He went to school for fashion?”
“Yeah. He did internships during school and hated it. Too many catty bitches.” Puck snorted, “Kurt can dish it out, but can’t swallow his own shit.” Blaine laughed. “He graduated and got hired as gofer for an interior design firm.”
“Gofer?”
“You know, go-for this, go-for that. He was someone’s bitch.” Blaine nodded in understanding.
“So, he worked his way up? In so little time?”
“Yeah, if you want to call it that.” Blaine’s puzzled look prompted Puck to explain. “Kurt, the crafty jackass he was, went over his boss’ boss’ head and presented his design for a big-shot lawyer’s office. The lawyer loved it and Kurt was promoted to fulltime designer a week later. Now he’s a head designer.”
Blaine whistled, “Wow. I mean, it’s Kurt, I’m not surprised, but damn.”
“Tell me about it.”
“How’d you two meet? I mean, again. You didn’t date during college, right?”
Puck snorted, “No, Kurt was here in New York and I went to Ohio State. We hooked up two years out of college. I moved to live with my cousin in the West Village and worked odd jobs here and there. I was working as a bouncer for this gay club a few blocks away from my apartment one night when I had to throw this handsy drunk guy off another dude. That’s when I saw Kurt again.”
Blaine’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, “You saved Kurt from being sexually assaulted?”
Puck laughed, “Kurt was the handsy drunk guy. I had to rip him off of this poor schmuck.”
It took a while for Blaine to stop laughing.
They got back to work, dividing the kitchen boxes between them. Their conversation didn’t stop, Puck subtly gauging whether or not his new neighbor was going to wreck the neighborhood suicide statistics (not one in 48 years!) and Blaine being completely oblivious to his companion’s ulterior motives, chatting away happily while sorting the cookware. It was only when Blaine was setting the clock on the oven did the two men realize they had fifteen minutes until their children needed to be picked up. Puck got up from his place on the floor, where he was attempting to organize the kitchen cleansers in the cabinet under the sink.
“You know you’ve been doing the housewife gig too long when you stack Clorox next to the Windex because of color coordination.” Puck grimaced, “Fuck, that was gay.”
Blaine chuckled, “You know, I was going to say it, but you beat me to it.”
“Shut it, Anderson, and get your queer-ass loafers on, the spawn will be back soon and the teachers hate it when parents are late.”
Blaine mumbled incoherently under his breath as he ran to the door where his “queer-ass loafers” were. After he slipped his feet into them, he motioned to the front door with a toss of his curly head, “Ready?”
“I’m never ready for the terrorist to get back from a field trip, but Kurt would kill me for trying to pawn her off again,” Puck said as he slipped past the stunned Blaine and out into the cool spring air.
“Again?”