30 Days of Puckurt Drabbles Day Twenty-Eight
Welcome to Day Twenty-Eight of 30 Days of Puckurt Drabbles in June: 2012 Edition!
Here be the rules; don't forget to include a rating if the piece is rated higher than PG.
Here be the rules; don't forget to include a rating if the piece is rated higher than PG.
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That was hot, funny and WIN!!!!
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It's not the first time he's felt like trapped animal, backed into a dark corner, with Noah Puckerman's muscular form looming over him.
But it's definately the first time like this.
"--C'mon Kurt jus' lemme touch..."
Puck's hand starts drifting upwards again, and Kurt catches it like it's the string of a balloon, twining their fingers together.
"Puck, stop being creepy." He orders, trying to maintain eye-contact: 'cos that's totally how you get through to simple, pea-brained wild carnivores.
Puck looks instantly wounded, wrinkling his nose:
"'M not creepy..." He protests, as his other hand takes over the task, reaching graspingly towards Kurt's head.
"Stop it!" Kurt repeats, catching that hand too. Puck immediately resumes trying to wrench his first hand free of Kurt's grip.
"How do you even get it like that?" He asks again, pupils blown wide as he gazes wonderingly at Kurt's coiffure. "It's so bouncy, like girl's hair, mine never ever does ( ... )
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The man didn’t seem impressed by Puck’s request, at first, and insisted on seeing Kurt rather than just handing over the potion they needed, but it only took a brief glace for him to give in and help them pour the potion down Kurt’s throat. They still couldn’t wake him up to have him drink it properly.
Kurt did start to look a little better after that. He was still pale - but really, when was he not? - though not deathly so, and his breathing, which Tina informed Puck had been sounding worse lately, seemed mostly normal once again. Puck would have felt better if Kurt could’ve opened his eyes and told them he felt better, but he would take whatever he could get. Tina seemed to know what she was doing, ( ... )
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“He’s my brother,” Finn was saying, sidling up close like he’d been there all along. “You gotta let me go with him.”
‘Oh yeah?’ Puck wanted to say. ‘Well sure he’s your brother, but he’s my…’ He wasn’t sure what went next; ‘best friend’ didn’t sound urgent enough, and there was more to it if he could get his head on straight and remember how to say whatever it was he had to say to get them to take him along.
Finn could come too; Finn was fine, and Puck totally got that they were family and that was important and shit, as long as Puck had a place as well ( ... )
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Whenever he's alone, or at least reasonably sure no one's paying attention to him, Puck picks at the scabs on his lower belly. He likes it when they bleed and he hopes that the more he picks at them and the longer it takes for them to heal, the better they'll scar. Plus, he likes the constant reminder of what Kurt's done to him. He feels turned inside out and exposed, every nerve raw and wanting.
He feels like love's bitch and he doesn't even care. He feels safe.
Puck saves up his money for something. He's not quite sure for what, but he figures Kurt will know. Maybe they'll ditch this place and live out of Puck's truck until they figure out what the hell to do with the rest of their lives. Maybe they'll just stay in Lima and rot away.
One afternoon, Puck finds Kurt hanging out with his Skank friends, so he joins them, putting an arm around Kurt's waist and ignoring the glares some of the girls give him. He thinks the multiple fake IDs and the Mohawk and the tattoo and the ear studs ( ... )
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