My Place in You Life 24/?
allatingle
Rating: NC-17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck, the rest of the gang wanders in and out.
Genre: Romance/Angst
Warnings: None
Spoilers: I can't separate Glee from FF or RL anymore so lets say everything.
Disclaimer: Mine only in my warped imagination.
Summary: Kurt and Puck decide to have some fun together. Just fun, no strings. But being totally casual isn't as easy as it looks.
Word Count: 6934
A/N: Epically long and in my last edit I added another 200 words, so I'm going to stop now. It seems the boys had a lot to say and who am I to deny pretty boys their due? Besides, they earned it.
Kurt stared down at his biology notes. Well, Mercedes’ Biology notes, because his notes consisted of doodles of jackets and song lyrics and the occasional phrase like ‘Osm is the migration of cells from ↑ to ↓’ which made absolutely no sense to Kurt. Or to Mercedes. Which is why she had scanned her notes and emailed them to Kurt in an effort to help him study for their test tomorrow. Unfortunately, Mercedes notes didn’t make much sense to Kurt either. He groaned and let his head thump onto his desk. He had to get a good mark on this test or his GPA would take a nose dive.
“New York,” he muttered to himself. “NYU. SoHo. 5th Avenue. Vogue.” Right. He was going to New York and a B in biology would help him get there. “Okay, Kurt, you can do this. All you need is a B, even a B minus.” He lifted his head and took a deep breath. He looked down at his notes. He picked up his phone.
From kwintour: I’ve decided to drop out of school and run away to NYC tonight. Wanna come?
The response was almost immediate.
From #1badass: always. oh wait you mean NYC
From kwintour: Dirty, I like it.
From #1badass: I know
From kwintour: Wanna know what else I like?
From #1badass: no
From kwintour: ?
From #1badass: ur supposed 2 b studyng
From kwintour: Are you seriously turning down sexting?
From #1badass: strangr thngs hve happnd
From kwintour: I don’t think they have.
From #1badass: shut up n study
Kurt glanced down at the diagram of the process of photosynthesis and wondered who gave a rat's ass how plants turned light into energy. Boring, badly dressed people who didn’t have a hot guy with very talented hands and a magical tongue on speed dial, that’s who.
From kwintour: Remember that time your mom took Sarah to the Twilight marathon...
From #1badass: behave or I will turn this car around Mr
From kwintour: Party pooper.
From #1badass: fine if ur a good boy n study 2nite I’ll gve u a reward n the am
From kwintour: Interesting. Go on.
From #1badass: house empty as of 6:30am come ovr n i'll give u xtra help n anatomy
From kwintour: Cheesy.
From #1badass: u want me naked or not?
From kwintour: Naked, please.
From #1badass: then b a good boy n study
Kurt grinned. 6:30 until 8:00am was plenty of time to map the planes of Noah’s body with his tongue and start the day in the best possible way. Unfortunately, thinking about that wasn’t doing anything to help him study. His phone buzzed again.
From #1badass: stop thnkn bout my cock n study
Kurt threw his head back and laughed.
~~~
Monday afternoon, Kurt trudged into the choir room behind Mercedes.
“Come on Kurt, I’m sure you did fine,” she tossed back over her shoulder.
He dropped his bag on the floor and sat down heavily on the top riser.
“If by fine you mean crashed and burned in a blaze of ‘I’m going to be working at the tire shop for the rest of my life’ glory, then yes, I did fine.” He flopped onto his back.
Tina gasped in mock horror. “Oh my God, Kurt’s lying on the floor in his clothes, someone call 911!”
Mercedes hovered over him giggling, “Kurt, get up, you’re scaring the children.”
“I said that plants need light, water and carbon dioxide to grow, Mercedes.”
“It’s just one question, stop obsessing.”
Puck’s face appeared above him. “Test didn’t go well?”
“Why the fuck did I even take biology?” Kurt moaned.
Tina’s face appeared beside Puck’s. “Because you need a science credit in your junior year.”
“Whoever decided that should be killed. Slowly and painfully.”
“Biology is easy,” Quinn said breezily.
Kurt pointed in the direction of her voice. “Shut it, Fabray.”
“Let’s sing something to ease Kurt’s pain!” Rachel clapped her hands delightedly. “Don’t Rain On My Parade always works for me or I’m the Greatest Star or-”
“How about Do You Want Fries With That?” Sam piped up. “Maybe it’s a question you should get used to asking.”
“Mercedes, help me up so I can kill Sam,” Kurt stated, dryly.
Mike snickered,“Is that even a real song?”
“Hell, ya. Country music is like Hallmark, a song for every occasion.” Sam started strumming the tune on his guitar and singing in a smooth, southern drawl. Tina’s face disappeared from view and Kurt heard laughter and the sounds of dancing.
“It is somehow appropriate that my misery and impending failure as a human being has led to country music,” Kurt pouted.
Mercedes grabbed his hand and tugged. “Come on, lets dance it out.”
“Really, ‘Cedes, you think line dancing is going to help me?” He remained prone, refusing to let her pull him to his feet.
“Come on,” Puck insisted. He grabbed Kurt’s other hand and helped Mercedes haul him up and into the fray of messy, silly dancing and singing going on in the middle of the room and it wasn’t long before he was laughing and two stepping along with the rest of them.
Kurt was spinning Quinn away from him and grabbing Mercedes’ hand and spinning her towards him when he heard a cheery, “Hi everybody!”
He glanced back over his shoulder to see Lacey Mills standing just inside the doorway and couldn’t help the frown that immediately creased his face. “What is she doing here?”
Beside him, Mercedes snickered, “Down boy.”
“Shut up,” Kurt grumbled.
In truth, he knew that Lacey wasn’t a threat. Noah had barely looked at her since their fight but she was still always around him, smiling and tossing her pony tail and it still annoyed the hell out of him. He snuck a glance over at Noah and was gratified to note that he didn’t look happy to see her and, unlike Finn, he certainly wasn’t ogling her breasts.
But the appearance of anyone else in their little sanctuary was a rarity, let alone a member of McKinley’s royal court. Lacey was a Cheerio princess angling for Queen and the people keeping her from climbing the pyramid to the top were the three uniformed girls in this room. The Unholy Trinity of Quinn, Santana and Brittany reigned supreme at McKinley, but Lacey had been trying valiantly to unseat them since the first day she sashayed down the hall. Whatever was about to go down was going to be epic and Kurt wasn’t the only one watching.
Santana stalked over and gave Lacey a slow and positively scathing once over and then smirked evilly when Lacey took half a step back. “If this is about your position in the squad for the end of year showcase, you can just turn around and sail your inflatable breasts right on out of here. Coach already decided and you’re in the back. I, for one, am shocked and devastated.”
Lacey’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not in the back, Santana, I’m in the second row, right behind you. Nipping at your fat ankles.”
“Listen biatch,” Santana started but Quinn cut her off.
“Lacey, as I’m sure you’re aware, all Cheerios business is to be conducted under the supervision of Coach Sylvester, so this really inappropriate. As captain, I’m more than a little disappointed in your behavior. I may have to advise Coach that-”
“You don’t have to advise Coach anything,” Lacey interrupted quickly. “I’m not here on Cheerios business.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here, did you get lost on the way to the backseat of some guy who’s name you don’t know’s car?” Santana snarked.
“I came by to talk to Puck.” Lacey’s voice was instantly sweet and the malicious glint in her eyes disappeared as she looked over at Puck.
Kurt’s dancing slowed and he glanced over at Noah again. He had his jock face on, the one he used in the hallways and on the football field, but the look didn’t meet his eyes. His face was impassive but his eyes were... panicked. Kurt’s brow furrowed because that was just strange; Noah never panicked. But as Lacey walked over to him, hips swinging in her red and white skirt, he saw Noah’s shoulders tighten and his eyes dart around like he was looking for a place to hide.
“Lacey, this is a rehearsal, I can’t talk right now,” Puck said tightly.
Lacey looked around at the random dancing and lack of teacher presence and her eyebrows rose a little. “Well, if this is rehearsal it explains why you guys lost at your competition thingy, but that’s okay, I just forgot to tell you something earlier.”
Earlier?What earlier? Kurt stopped dancing altogether and watched carefully as Noah’s eyes skated in his direction but stopped and veered away before they made contact and suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck rose up. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
Lacey’s eyes were bright and her smile even brighter as she gazed up at Noah. “I just wanted to tell you that my dress is strapless so a wrist corsage would be best.”
The furrow on Kurt's brow deepened and he tilted his head beacause, wh... why would... what? And he was suddenly having the most bizarre difficulty making enough sense of what Lacey had just said to formulate a proper question but he didn't need to, Santana beat him to it.
“What the hell are you talking about?” She asked.
Lacey didn’t take her eyes from Puck. “Duh, Prom, Santana, Puck is my date.”
Kurt blinked. Slowly. Vey slowly. Like, super-slo-mo slowly. Eyelids dropping down, world going dark, brush of lashes against his cheeks and then up and open again. Only, when the room came back into view it was different. Foggy and distorted, sound muffled like he was underwater. Deep, deep down at the bottom of a cold Ohio lake. Trapped, and his last lung full of oxygen running out. Maybe he was. He hoped that he was because if he wasn’t, he was standing in the choir room and Lacey Mills had just said that she was going to Prom with Noah.
Please let me be drowning.
A hand on his arm brought him slamming back to the surface and suddenly it was very bright and very loud, a combination of the blood rushing in his ears and Santana’s voice, sharp as a razor’s edge.
“You’re taking Dolly Parton to Prom?”
Lacey gave her a smug look. “Jealous, Santana?”
“Of you and your giant clown boobs? No, I prefer to look like an actual human female not like a character from some twelve-year-old’s jerk-off fantasy,” Santana bit out, viciously.
“At least I’m in someone’s fantasies and I have a date for Prom, which is more than I can say for you. You know, you’re the only Cheerio who doesn’t have a date? It’s a disgrace to the uniform.”
Santana took a step towards her. “You’re going to be the only Cheerio with a broken nose if you don’t haul your fat ass out of here.”
Lacey glared at her and then turned back to Puck, her eyes instantly softer. “I’ll see you later, Puck.”
Kurt stared, open mouthed, as she stretched up on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek before turning and with a parting smirk at Santana and walked out.
The door shut with a muffled click and the room, which only a few minutes ago had been filled with chatter and noise, where all of New Directions had just been singing and dancing like it was the last night of their lives, was now as silent as a tomb. It should have been weird but it wasn’t, because clearly this wasn’t the choir room, clearly this was yet another dimension. A dimension where the boy he loved and who he thought loved him back, was going to Prom with Lacey Mills.
Really, Kurt, another dimension? Exactly how many dimensions do you think there are?
Kurt almost laughed at that because it really was a ridiculous thought. First, there was the reality where he was a teenaged gay kid in the conservative heart of the mid-west. Then there was the space in the cosmos where he and Noah had been wallowing in sex and fluff and each other for months. Then there was the plane where his former crush was going to be his step-brother. And now, there was this. Yeah, no, not possible. So, the only reasonable conclusion was that this simply could not be happening.
He got his wits about him finally and turned to look at Noah, which is what he should have done in the first place, because Noah would roll his eyes and make a face and confirm that none of this was true. That this was some sit-com worthy misunderstanding, that Lacey was just a crazy stalker, that she was not his date for Prom.
Noah was standing there, looking oddly small, his hands still jammed in his pockets, shoulders hunched under the soft cotton of the heather green henley Kurt had picked out for him that morning. His posture made the collar sag around his neck a little, revealing a hint of the purplish bruise Kurt had sucked into his skin two days ago. He fidgeted uncomfortably but said nothing.
Kurt watched the muscles in his jaw twitch and his adams apple bob as he swallowed. Watched him pull a hand from his pocket and run it through his mohawk. Watched him rub his nose. Watched him look everywhere, except at Kurt. And said nothing.
A cold tingle started to creep down Kurt’s spine, spreading as it went, down his arms, into his chest, turning into a heavy block of ice in his stomach because why wasn’t Noah saying anything? He and Noah were together. Noah didn’t like Lacey. Noah didn’t even like girls.
Actually, Kurt, he’s never said he doesn’t like girls. Exploring his sexual boundaries, remember?
The chill swept down his legs, into his leaden feet as he waited for Noah to say something, do something, to prove that there was no fucking way he was taking Lacey to Prom. Finally, Noah took a deep breath and raised his head, his eyes lifting up to meet Kurt’s and suddenly there was nothing that needed to be said or done because it was right there, written all over his face.
Oh my God.
Kurt’s eyes went wide widened and there was finally a sound piercing the strange, mute tension that seemed to have consumed the room and it’s inhabitants. A hushed but sharp intake of breath and it came from him.
This is not happening.
But it was. And the guilt in Noah’s eyes, eyes that couldn’t hold Kurt’s for longer than a few seconds before darting down to his shoes and around the room again, was more proof than he ever needed or wanted. This was no comedy of errors, and the limit on alternate dimensions had been reached a long time ago. This was real. Noah, his Noah, was going to Prom with Lacey Mills.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tina staring at him. And Quinn. And Sam. And he realized that he should say something. Something sarcastic and witty about Noah’s taste in women. Something that would distract from his rapid blinking and the color draining from his face and his heart pounding so hard in his chest he was sure that they could all hear it, something to stop the tornado currently tearing through his mind and body and heart. But the only words he could think of were OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod, and the only thing coming out of his mouth were shallow, ragged breaths.
Which was also still the only sound in the room and why the hell was everyone so damn quiet?
But just then, there was a voice, high and clear and laced with confusion; Brittany. “I don’t get it, is Lacey, Puck’s fly? But they’re not even friends.”
Her question cracked the cone of silence that hung over the room and before Kurt could even try to understand what she meant, other voices were suddenly chiming in, one atop the other.
“...dude, what the hell?” from Finn.
“...oh, Puck,” from Quinn.
“...dumbass,” from Santana.
“...that is some serious douchebagery, Puckerman,” from Lauren.
They seemed surprised and disappointed and pissed off and Kurt didn’t really understand why. After all, Noah and a hot Cheerio was a McKinley tradition, why would they expect anything different? Why would he expect anything different?
Because he said he only wanted to be with me.
Kurt’s knees wobbled and he closed his eyes. Maybe he was trying too hard. Maybe it wasn’t another dimension, maybe it was just a bad dream. A really intense, really vivid, really, really bad dream. He opened his eyes. The choir room. All of his friends. Noah. Nope, not a dream.
He felt the hand on his arm squeeze again and he looked down at it. Chocolate brown skin and blue fingernails. Mercedes. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
Kurt nodded mechanically, although he was not okay, he was not the least bit okay. In fact he was fairly certain that he was just a few shallow breaths away from hyperventilating and passing out on the floor and wouldn’t that be the perfect end to this horrific scene. Gasp, thud, fade to black.
“Hey Guys!” Mr. Schuester burst into the room. “I’ve got a great idea for the final song of the showcase,” he paused, grinning at them and somehow taking their strained silence to mean that they were breathless with anticipation and not that Kurt’s world was disintegrating around him and that his friends were inadvertently bearing witness. “Michael Bolton!” He grabbed a marker and wrote the name on the whiteboard with a flourish.
Oh, in the name of fashion, you have got to be fucking kidding me?
Fantastic. To celebrate finding out that the love of his life was going on a date with a girl who practically had ‘Fuck me Puck,’ emblazoned on her forehead, they were going to sing and dance to a whiny, insipid love ballad by a man with possibly the worst hairstyle in music history. Well, at least if he threw up everyone would think it was because of the music.
Mr. Schue looked around at them, all still motionless, and gave them his excited, overeager, borderline crazy, look. “Come on guys, grab a seat, lets get to work.”
Santana moved first, striding across the room and slapping Puck in the back of the head on her way past. Everyone else followed suit, shuffling to their seats and Mercedes slid her hand into Kurt’s and tugged him over to a chair.
“Kurt,” she murmured, her voice laced with worry.
Kurt sat stiffly in his seat and stared straight ahead.
“Boo,” she tried again.
Kurt clenched his teeth and shook his head minutely. No. Just, no. He couldn’t handle his friend’s loving concern right now. He needed to focus on rehearsal. Music. Mr. Schue chattering happily about Michael fucking Bolton. Quinn complaining about swaying in the background while Rachel and Finn soaked up the spotlight yet again. Santana threatening to break into Mr. Schue’s house and destroy his album collection and burn all his vests. Anything not related to what had just transpired in this room. Anything that was not the memory of Lacey’s bright smile or her voice filled with pride and delight when she declared, Puck is my date. Anything that was not the penitent look on Noah’s face. Anything that was not the hollow ache in his chest. Duh, Prom, Santana, Puck is my date. Puck is my date. Duh.
It was impossible, of course. Kurt couldn’t focus on anything else but those things and he sang off-key and missed his cues and tripped over his own feet for ninety excruciating minutes until Mr. Schue finally released them. He had his bag and was out the door before their teacher finished saying, “See you tomorrow guys,’ walking fast, faster, running down the hall, ignoring Mercedes’ voice calling after him. He needed air, he needed away, he needed that cheery voice in his head, to just shut up. Puck is my date.
It wouldn’t, though. It just kept on repeating; a monotonous loop, like the tick-tock of a metronome or a clock. Or a bomb.
Part 2