30 Days of Puckurt Drabbles Day 30 (The End Is Here)
It's over. I hope the rest of you have had fun; I know I have and I can't believe how sad I am to see this month end!
raving_liberal or I will post a "make up" post for those who need to catch up on drabbling, sometime over this holiday weekend. We'll also be making a post about the great graphics that have been made so you can all snag some! Finally, we hope ( Read more... )
raving_liberal or I will post a "make up" post for those who need to catch up on drabbling, sometime over this holiday weekend. We'll also be making a post about the great graphics that have been made so you can all snag some! Finally, we hope ( Read more... )
“Uh-oh.”
Puck jolts forward in his seat and turns his head toward Kurt, who is standing behind him. “What? No. No ‘uh-oh’. What’s ‘uh-oh’ mean?”
Kurt’s lips are puckered into an apologetic grimace and his brows are tugged tightly together. In his right hand he holds an electric shaver. “Umm,” he says, “I might have - uh.”
Puck’s eyes are growing wider with every second. “You might have what?” At Kurt’s continued silence, Puck brings a hand up and runs it up his mohawk, starting at the back of his neck and feeling the soft bristles of hair that stripe up the back of his head to - oh no. “No way,” he gasps out.
Kurt is now biting his lip nervously, and at Puck’s wild glance he shrugs his shoulders. “I’m sorry. It just kind of happened.”
Puck jumps from his chair and scrambles for the bathroom, socked feet slipping on the linoleum, saying behind him, “It ‘just kind of happened’? How the hell does something like this ‘just kind of happen’?”
The bathroom door explodes open under Puck’s mad movements and the light flickers on with one swift flick of his fingers. The sight that stares back at him drops his jaw in horror.
There, just at the crest of his head where that stupid freckle exists, is a pale bald patch spanning across the length of his mohawk, bisecting the stripe of hair cleanly. “Holy shit,” he breathes out, air shucked from his chest. “You’ve maimed me!”
A noise, surprised and muffled, comes from Kurt’s direction and Puck pivots to look at his boyfriend. “You think this is funny?”
Kurt has one hand clasped over his lips and his brows are trembling as though he is trying to restrain their movement but failing. “No,” he says as he takes his hand away. “Not at all. It’s - you’d think that I had cut a limb off or something, with the way you’re reacting.”
Puck glares at the pale man, one hand coming up to scour the patch of missing hair delicately. “You ruined my ‘hawk. That’s worse.”
“Oh Noah - it’ll grow back.” Kurt looks sympathetic, but there is still mirth in his blue-green-grey eyes.
“Yeah,” says Puck, “and until then I’m going to look like a loser. You are never going near my hair again.”
Kurt comes up to Puck and pats his shoulder. “Maybe next time you should go to the salon like I said you should.” Kurt hands the barely-used electric razor to Puck with a rueful smile and leaves the devastated man to observe his maimed head in the mirror.
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A/N: I'm sorry to have to post my last three drabbles all at once, but we had a storm in Helena the night before last that blew out the internet, and my connection is pretty spotty today.
It has been awesome participating in this with all of you, and I cannot wait to get home (only 7 more hours of driving!) so that I can go through and read everything I've missed out on since being on the road.
I ♥ you guys!
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