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.
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 and the nipple piercing and Kurt's name carved into the skin not too far above his cock all mean they should count themselves lucky to have him in their group, but he's not there for them so they can all go fuck themselves. Especially Quinn.
"Hey, baby," Kurt greets him, petting his strip of hair from front to back and tugging a little at the hair just before his neck. Puck resists the urge to get on his knees. "We were just talking about what it's gonna be like when we get outta this place."
"Yeah?" Puck asks, taking a cigarette out of the pack in his back pocket and lighting it. He takes two drags before handing it over to Kurt. "What's the consensus?"
"Fame and fortune," Quinn replies, her voice heavy with sarcastic disdain. "What else?"
"Oh, really?" Puck smiles, nudging his nose against Kurt's ear because he fucking loves the smell there. "How are you guys gonna get rich and famous?"
Some big chick, who Puck never learned the name of, says, "I'm gonna get on a reality TV show."
Another says, "I'm gonna win the lottery."
Puck sees Quinn rolling her eyes and she meets his before insisting, "I'm going to be a movie star."
Kurt's the only one who hasn't spoken about his dream when he says, "Excuse us, ladies. We've got some business to attend to." He pulls Puck toward the equipment shed that's never locked and shoves him inside. Puck knows what sort of business this is and finally gives into the urge to drop to his knees. Kurt's mouth opens a little in surprise, though, so maybe Puck's mistaken. "What? No, get up, Noah."
"But..." Puck protests, even as he follows orders.
Kurt's got that dangerous look in his eye, the one that sends Puck's heart beating a million times a second. "I've had an idea."
Kissing his boyfriend softly, reverently and not quite impatiently, Puck says, "I like your ideas, babe."
"Hey." Kurt snaps his fingers in front of Puck's face and frowns. "Focus here, alright? I figured out how we're getting out of this shit town."
"How?" Puck's sure he'll follow Kurt anywhere. It's safe with Kurt. No one can hurt him.
Kurt gathers a small section of Puck's t-shirt in each of his hands, and pulls him close. "You and I are forming a band."
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