Fic: Reverseverse Ep2: 'Nomance', Part 2 - PG

[test_kard_girl]

Title: Reverseverse Ep 2, part
Verse: Reverseverse
Author: test_kard_girl
Rating: PG, for the odd unexpected f-bomb.
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Puck, Finn/Rachel, Artie/Tina, most of the regular cast of Glee appear, albeit as their slightly altered role-reversal selves.
Genre: AU
Warning: Puck and Kurt not being themselves
Spoilers: Say through Season 1, although as it's AU, in a very roundabout, squint and you'll miss it kind of way.
Disclaimer:  I don’t own Glee or anything to do with it; I just have vivid hallucinations. The role!reversal AU belongs to mundaneone. I’m just playing in it by her very kind permission :).
Author's Notes: A tribute and addition to mundaneone’s fabtastic 'A Little Role Reversal', whose characters ate my brain. The original fic was written by mundaneone in response to this prompt from the glee_angst_meme. I hope anything I write in this verse can do her original creation justice. You’ll need to read 'A Little Role Reversal' before you read anything I write, so you get the gist of the characters and the world they live in
Word Count: (This part) 4336
Summary: The "social ladder" is upside down. Puck gets bullied by one ice-queen Kurt Hummel. Doesn't mean he isn't head over heels though.  The Reverseverse, episode 2 part 2: Puck hadn't even thought about having that conversation.... Taking on board Mr Schue’s warning, Puck heads to the bulletin board directly after sixth period, scrabbling in his backpack to find a pen that doesn’t leak all over his hands and leave incriminating fingerprints. He wants to join glee; of course he does. It’s just, man; the idea of being a permanent member of that torture regiment still kind of makes him want to blow chunks all over his shoes. 
He prints his name as fast and as neat as he can on the next free line of the audition list, eyes skating nervously around the faces of all the other students cluttering up the hallway, and starts; freezing like a meerkat at the sudden touch of another boy’s slim hands curling around his hips.
“So; I imagine you’ll be needing some assistance with your audition song.” Kurt muses, leaning past Puck’s back and trailing his finger dismissively down the handful of other names on the list.  
Puck takes a deep breath, nostrils full of mint and vanilla
“Uh… That you offerin’?” He replies, taking his time about straightening up again. He likes that Kurt stays close for a moment, even though his eyes are unreadable as always. “I mean; that’d be awesome. I’ve never sung in front of people- y’know, an audience before. I don’t even know what I’m good at, or what-&rdquo
“-Well that’s very strange.” Kurt interrupts smoothly, raising his eyebrows: “Because I have this extremely vivid memory of you singing to a lunchroom full of people. On one knee. Accompanied by strategically placed band members.”
“Oh.” Puck’s mouth forms a clueless little ‘o’ and his face flushes, like it does pretty much every time he remembers that particularly embarrassing moment in their history. “Well…Yeah. Aside from that…. But that was kind of…” He stuffs his hands awkwardly in his pockets. “…Special circumstances.”
“Mmm.” Kurt flashes him an incomprehensible kind of smirk, tugging his iPhone from his jeans pocket and meandering off down the hallway. After a moment’s considering, Puck trots helplessly after him
“So do you think, maybe, you could help me?” He chances, hitching his bag further up his shoulder.
At once, Kurt stops, turning back around so they’re almost nose to nose as Puck pulls to a halt.
“…Do you want me?”
Puck’s tongue flicks disbelievingly over his lips
“What?”
“To help you.” Kurt reiterates, mouth curving into a demure little smile.
“Oh…” Puck tries to look like that was totally what he was thinking, hooking thumbs tight into his belt loops in an effort to make his shuffling look anything less than freakishly awkward. “Um, yeah?” He tries to sound more sure: “I mean, yeah; if you’re not, y’know, busy or-”
“-Well how about tonight?” Kurt suggests, reaching across and sliding his fingers into Puck’s front pockets, pulling their bodies unexpectedly closer: “Eight o’clock? Your place?”
Puck’s brain stutters at the proximity, the warmth of Kurt’s hands, body, skin so near it makes the hairs on his arms prickle. He wishes Kurt would press his fingers just a little deeper; wishes there wasn’t denim between them.
“Sure.” He breathes, and Kurt smiles back at him
“Excellent.” He leans up, hands tightening in Puck’s jeans to keep his balance, and his lips brush teasingly at his ear: “It’s a date.&rdquo
Then the other boy neatly disentangles himself, spinning on his heel and striding away towards the parking lot, casting only a nonchalant little goodbye wave over his shoulder and leaving Puck breathless once more in the middle of the hallway.
*
“You don’t need this crap do you?”
Terri tries not to feel too hurt, as Will drags her pile of spotless craft books from under their place in the bookcase
“Well; it is important to me to have a creative outlet--”
“-I knew you’d understand.” Will interrupts, grinning up at her as he starts flicking open the dust-covers, checking the bookstore prices. He gestures at her scrapbooking set: “This is about sixty bucks worth, right?”
Terri nibbles at her bottom lip, crossing her arms across her chest
“I guess…&rdquo
“Figgins is being an ass about the Glee Club.” Will finally admits, piling the books up on the dining table. “Says we need an extra sixty big ones a month dollars to keep the club going, now we’re gonna be a competitive team.” He scrunches up his nose, considering: “Y’know, sometimes, I think he just doesn’t like me very much.”  
Terri processes that: “So you wanna sell our stuff to keep some school club running?”
“Glee Club, baby. Glee Club.” Will reminds her, like that makes it all ok. “And it’s only sixty dollars a month. What the hell are you gonna use it for?”
Terri stares at her husband, dumbstruck:
“We’re having a baby Will.&rdquo
“Well yeah, sure; but not for another eight months, right?” Will bends down, pressing a kiss to his wife’s stomach. “I’ll make it back by then, I promise. Besides: you can pick up more shifts at work, right?”
Terri’s mouth drops open, as if to argue with him: but no words come and Will just kisses her soundly with a finger under her chin, tipping her a wink before striding away towards the bedroom, pulling off his tie, probably going to get ready for another night locked in the office with his computer
(Terri doesn’t know what he does in there. If it was porn she thinks she probably wouldn’t care; but when she looks up his internet history all she finds is Broadway musicals.)
She crosses her hands over her (only slightly rounded) stomach, gazing around the dining room. She doesn’t know how to tell Will she was hoping they could save up and get a bigger house. A proper family house, with room for the baby; maybe baby number two when the time was right.
There are tears in her eyes, and Terri snorts at her stupid sentimentality
Damn hormones
She was probably just being selfish again anyway. She’s selfish an awful lot of the time, according to Will
…Is it really selfish to want the best for her baby?
With Will hidden from view in the bedroom, Terri screws her face up at him, very nearly sticking out her tongue.
Well someone needs to think about it. Will would probably quicker see those Glee freaks in penthouses than their own kid living outside this one-bedroom hovel.
Terri sighs, giving in and going to fetch her chicken pot pie for one from the freezer.  
It’s a losing battle, she knows. But she wishes Will would think about it; just once. Think about them
*
“So this is Chez Puckerman…”
Puck cringes. He can’t help it. Most everything Kurt ever says sounds like an insult
“Yeah. It’s not… it’s…” He flails his hands. “It’s my mom’s house, y’know…?”
“No, no, I like it,” Kurt insists: “it’s…lived in...”
Resting his weight on his left hip, Kurt casts a glance around the Puckerman's living room: his eyes drifting over the mismatched furniture, the ornaments on the mantle-piece, the piles of papers and trashy magazines and colouring-in books scattered all over the place. Puck feels a little worm of embarrassment, remembering how spotless Kurt's home is. Eventually though, the other boy’s eyes settle back on Puck's.
"So." He suggests, without preamble. "Wanna make out?"
Well. That's three words pretty much guaranteed to stop Puck worrying about the décor
“…Yes please.”
The words have barely left his lips before Kurt is practically climbing him: one hand caught around Puck’s belt-loop, the other curled against his neck; lips hard and hot and sure against his. Automatically, Puck’s arm wraps tight around Kurt’s waist, dragging him close, and in three steps Kurt has him pushed back into the cushions on the sofa, clambering into his lap.
Making out with another boy isn't really the same as making out with a girl, Puck realises dazedly (although truth be told he hasn’t had much experience of either). The taste's all different; the smell; the whole feel of it. It's kind of like fighting for the ball in a pile-up: both pushing, both trying to get the upper hand, both wanting the same thing. Maybe that's just Kurt. But either way, it's kind of frantic and combative and Puck finds it's really, really turning him on.
Kurt too, by the sounds of things.
“Mmm…” Puck’s cock gets harder with every tiny sound of contentment Kurt murmurs against his lips; every graze of his fingernails against his scalp; every  movement of his firm, hot, supple body pressed tight against his. “Baby… Mmmm…”
“Fuck…” Puck forces himself to pull away, overwhelmed, holding their foreheads together for a second as he tries to get his breath back. “...Kurt-&rdquo
 “-You have to tell me how you want it…” Kurt whispers, grazing Puck’s cheek with the tip of his nose. Puck opens his eyes; finds those pretty blues gazing back at him: “I know you’ve dreamt about this…”
Kurt’s teeth catch gently at Puck’s bottom lip, and Puck pretty much whimpers.
“I just…” He replies breathily, chest heaving: “…I just want to kiss you.”
Kurt looks back at him, beautiful lips quirking at the corner, before he leans in and captures Puck’s mouth again- and Puck can’t stop the broken groan that escapes him as Kurt’s cool hands slide under the back of his jeans, forcing Puck’s straining erection hard against his groin:
“…Sure you do.&rdquo
He’s right. Puck has never felt anything like this. Not for real; not with hands that weren’t his own. Not with someone else’s body wrapped around his; hot skin and damp lips and nimble fingers tugging at his belt buckle-
“-Kurt…” Puck jerks away, forcing his hands from Kurt’s shapely ass and catching the other boy’s wrists instead, panting embarrassingly hard as Kurt stares back at him.
“What?” Even he seems a little breathless. “You’d prefer to do your own?” He pulls Puck’s belt apart, moving a hand to pop his fly open.
“No! I mean; no…”  Puck grips tighter, holding the other boy away from his crotch, and Kurt grants him an echo of the furious look he gave a couple of weeks ago when Puck manhandled him out of the library.
“No?” He repeats incredulously. “Are you broken, Puckerman? A minute ago it was ‘yes please’.&rdquo
“I know, I just… I’m sorry… It’s just I haven’t done anything like… this… before-”
“-Kronk, I think we all knew that.” Kurt says flatly. Then he narrows his eyes, scrutinizing Puck like he’s a Sudoku puzzle: “Don’t worry, I’m a very good teacher; I’ll be gentle with you.” He cants his hips a little, and Puck has to bite back another moan as Kurt smiles angelically: “If you’d like.”
“I just…” Puck’s squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to keep talking, not letting that very appealing thought go anywhere: “…I thought we were gonna be practicing for the audition-”
“-Seriously? We’ve been dating a week and a half and you invited me round to your house to practice singing with?&rdquo
"Um, well… Yeah?&rdquo
Stupid upward inflection. Puck forces a vaguely sheepish smile across his damp mouth, hoping it looks more endearing and less moronic than it feels.
“I mean, I’m not… complaining-”
“-No, I wouldn’t think so…” Kurt interrupts, leaning in to catch his lips again-- and almost making it before Puck has another attack of butterflies and jerks his head out of the way
“No.” He repeats again, and this time tries not to let his voice waver. “I’m not… I’m not ready.”
Kurt genuinely looks like he’s never heard these words before, and Puck swallows, trying to quash the sensation of his heart thudding against his jugular
“Can we not just… Can we not just do the singing thing?&rdquo
For a long minute, the two boys stare at each other, and Puck thinks his face is on fire- but he clenches his jaw shut and tries not to start apologising again because (channelling Miss Pillsbury’s sex ed. classes) his feelings are just as important as his partner’s and sex is a beautiful act between two people who care deeply for each other, and besides: he really, really needs an audition song
Eventually, Kurt removes his hands from Puck’s jeans and presses his lips together into a tight line, one eyebrow raised slightly in that familiar expression of haughty condescension:
“Fine.&rdquo
Gracefully, he swings his leg back over Puck’s lap, and instead twists around so he’s sitting on the seat next to him, fastidiously smoothing the creases out of his sleeves. Puck blinks. Then, after a second-where he can pretty much hear the whirr of his brain re-booting- he guiltily curls his own hands in his jeans, trying to rearrange himself without looking too much like a virgin. His resolute attitude deflates a bit. He wonders if he’s really blown it. If trying to be the squeaky clean, new start boyfriend is really worth Kurt looking at him like that
He glances over. Kurt doesn’t meet his eyes, pushing his bangs back into place; but he mutters:
“Some boyfriend…&rdquo
Puck feels his stomach sink
“Um… Well I’ll, uh, get my guitar…” He says awkwardly
*
Rachel daintily straightens her skirt out, flattening the creases with the palms of her hands; tugging her socks back up to her knees. She frees her cherry-cola flavour Lip Smackers from her bedside drawer and liberally re-applies, smiling vaguely at the muffled sounds of Finn scrubbing at his pants in the bathroom. Goodness, he’s going to need some training. There’s only so much the memory of a crumpled mailman and a shrieking mother can do when ranged against the not un-substantial charms of Rachel Berry and an H&M push-up bra
It is nice to be with someone who has a little bit of muscle though, she has to admit. And who actually seems interested in kissing her rather than just rutting jerkily against her thigh. And who has hair that’s not an afro.
Ugh; Jacob.
Banishing all thoughts of her previous attaché, Rachel flips open the lid of her laptop, navigating automatically to her Myspace page (her homepage, of course. And the top of her favourites list. Why yes: Rachel Berry is Rachel Berry’s favourite. Who else could give such meaningful affirmation?). Serenely, she scrolls through the comments on her last video (a tremulous and heartfelt rendition of Les Mis’ ‘I Saw Him Once’) mostly a barrage of capslock and ecstatic key-bashing. Gosh, her fans are becoming rabid-
She’s shaken from her haze of self-appreciation by the sound of electronic gunfire, and it takes her a worrisome second to realise that the noise is actually Finn’s text alert. He’d taken his cell out of his pocket when they’d started making-out, Rachel getting freaked by Finn having two solid, stubby things in his pants.    
Curious, she leans across, flicking the screen on.
It’s a message from QUINN FABRAY.
Expression instantly creasing into a scowl, Rachel taps the message open, keeping one ear out for the sound of Finn returning from the bathroom:
So glad! I didn’t know who else 2 ask. U guys seem to be having such a gd time + ur right-I do love singing xx
She’s put kisses on the end! KISSES!
Rachel scrolls back up through the conversation, realising with a burning feeling in her chest that Finn and that peroxided Cheeri-ho have been texting backwards and forwards all evening, making arrangements, when Finn had blatantly told her just that afternoon that he couldn’t make Wednesday night because he had Celibacy Club&hellip
Caught up in her outrage, Rachel doesn’t hear the toilet flush and the creak of the floorboards as Finn pads awkwardly back into her bedroom
“…Hey, I think I might’ve used up all the toilet-paper… Is that my cell-?”
Rachel glowers at her lumbering oaf of a boyfriend, leaping nimbly to her feet and storming across to thrust the offending text message straight in his face:
“Quinn Fabray is auditioning for Glee Club???!!&rdquo
*
When he gets back from his bedroom, Puck half expects Kurt to be gone: given up on him, away to find a better offer. But he isn’t. He’s still there, sitting on the end seat of Puck’s sofa, feet curled up under him and concentrating, flinty-eyes, on his iPhone. Puck wonders who he’s texting, who he’s complaining to (probably Mercedes) but he forces himself to take the other seat anyway, resting his guitar against the arm and placing three bags of Doritos and a litre of Diet Coke between them on the floor like a peace-offering
“So, um… I figured I could go through my iPod and show you some of the stuff I was thinking about for the audition-”
Kurt looks at him blankly for a moment; holds out his hand:
“Give it here loser.&rdquo
Chastised, Puck does as he asks, and after about a minute of steely silence, Kurt grudgingly begins to explain that what Puck likes isn’t necessarily what he’s good at singing, or acceptable for a glee club audition.
“It needs to be something you’re comfortable with.” He says as he scrolls through Puck’s music collection. “You wanna be up there and singing your heart out, not freaking out about fancy chord changes. Play to your strengths.”
Puck feels his stomach tighten.
“I don’t know if I really have any.”
“Well we’ll make some up for you, ok? Jeez Puckerman, if you go in with that attitude Schue’ll laugh you off the stage.” He scrolls for a few more seconds in silence, before a tiny light seems to glint in his eyes. “Ah, now here’s an easy one. Sing for me.”
He hits play on the iPod, and the first notes of ‘With Me’ float from the speakers.
Instantly, Puck snatches the iPod back and hits pause.
“Uh, I think everyone’s heard enough of that one, don’t you?” He says, grimacing once more. Kurt just cocks an eyebrow at him
“So sue me.” He deadpans. “I don’t get serenaded very often.&rdquo
Puck looks at him. He almost sounds serious, and Puck doesn’t know what to say. But then he gathers all his nerves and leans across and kisses his boyfriend- just a peck really, nothing like before- short but sweet, on the lips
When he pulls away again Kurt blinks at him for a minute, lips damp and shiny from Puck’s; then he moves his hand and tries to grab the iPod back. Puck dodges out of his way:
“No, hey, can I try one?”
“Does it have a thrashing drum solo?”
“No. It’s…” Puck scrolls through the song list; hits the one he wants “…Don’t laugh ok?”
Kurt rolls his eyes, making a cross over his heart with his finger; but he pulls his legs up to his chest, settling back to listen.
Puck can see his smile quirk as soon as the intro starts, ‘cos it’s pretty famous. But after that he stops looking, ‘cos he really wants to try and do this well and Kurt is fucking off-putting whether he tries to be or not
“When it began, I can’t begin to know this… but I know it’s growin’ strong…”
He closes his eyes, forgetting about everything except the beat of the bass drum. He tries not to sing along with the vocals, just sing it in his own time, his own voice, holding the notes where he wants, dropping them where he doesn’t. He knows shit about music, but he knows this song inside out and he knows how he sings it best. It’s a classic case of musical child-abuse, the fact that his mom played this cassette tape for hours in the car when he was a kid. But he grew to love it eventually, and it still makes his mom smile when she hears him singing it-in touch with his Jewish roots and all that. And his mom smiling doesn’t exactly happen all that often
So it’s with that thought in his head Puck swings into the chorus, swaying a bit, and he grins even more when he hears Kurt chipping in with the bah-bah-bah echo part. He doesn’t think he can manage another verse because he must look like a total dork already, but he finishes the chorus with a long, steady note and a bit of flourish and only opens his eyes again when he hears Kurt giving him a not-entirely-sarcastic round of applause
“Wow-ee Puckerman.” He whistles. “There might be some talent in those prehistoric vocal chords yet. I would never have pegged you for a Neil Diamond man.”
He’s smiling but (Puck notices) it’s not quite reaching his eyes. Not that he’s caught Kurt smiling all that often to really recognise the difference. It makes him panic just a tiny bit
“Was it really ok?” he asks, fiddling with the iPod again. “I mean, I’ve never sung in front of people before. I never took music…”
“Well you should have.” Kurt tells him. He cocks his head a bit. “That’d be perfect for your audition song. And I assume since you lugged it out here you know the guitar part- that’s a point in your favour. We don’t have anyone who plays acoustic.”
Obligingly, Puck sings it again, this time with his guitar as accompaniment. Kurt watches him, tapping along with his fingers on his knee, and Puck tries not to notice because his concentration is kind of intimidating and sexy at the same time. He throws out some tit-bits of criticism and Puck tries again, and they go over it and over it for the next two hours until Puck stops feeling self-conscious altogether and the shadow disappears a little from between Kurt’s eyebrows. Puck can’t help noticing how much better he looks when he’s not scowling- and feeling a bit warm and fuzzy at the idea it might have been his singing that helped make that happen. Maybe tonight won’t be a total fail after all.    
When his mom and Sarah come home (an event which Puck had sort of forgotten about, to be honest) Puck explains in a mumble that he’s got an audition for glee club tomorrow and that Kurt’s helping him practice, and his mom gives him that look parents get when they’re torn between applauding their child’s gung-ho attitude and warning them they’re about to fall on their asses
“Well, it’s always good to try new things.” she says eventually, non-commitally, and sweeps into the kitchen to dump the bags from the 7-11. Sarah just raises an eyebrow, gives Kurt a once over, then launches herself into the armchair and grabs the remote.
Not too surprisingly, Puck feels the mood kind of come crashing down around them
Kurt’s mouth tightens a bit at the sound of Puck’s mom muttering to herself in the kitchen; the clink of bottles. Carefully, he sets the iPod back down on the arm of the sofa.
“Well. I think that’s my cue to am-scray.” He says after a moment, and in that familiar tone that sounds like honey poured over barbed wire. Puck’s head snaps around to look at him. The scowl is threatening once again at the edges of his expression and Puck isn’t too sure why
“Um, yeah, maybe that’s best…” he says, taking his guitar off and shrugging a bit apologetically. He lowers his voice: “Sorry ‘bout them.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got my own rehearsing to do anyway.&rdquo
Puck moves his knee, trying to bump it with Kurt’s in an apologetic kind of way; but Kurt just reaches over and picks his bag off the floor, climbing back to his feet and heading for the hallway
Puck awkwardly watches Kurt lacing up his shoes in the porch, not wanting their first real date-like thing to end so abruptly
“Um, so, I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Most likely.&rdquo
Puck bites his lip.
“Thanks for, y’know, helping me and stuff. I kinda suck at music-”
“-Noah, if you keep up with that attitude I’m gonna kiss you right here in front of your family and then fuck off so you can spend the rest of the night incompetently trying to explain yourself.&rdquo
Oh.
“…I hadn’t… expected them back so soon.” Puck says quietly. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna tell them, I just…”
“It’s fine. I understand.” Kurt interrupts, hooking his bag over his shoulder again and fishing his car keys out his jacket pocket
“I really… I had a really nice time tonight.” Puck tries again, a bit lamely. Kurt just looks at him.
“See you tomorrow.” He says. Then his hand curls around Puck’s belt and tugs:
“You might wanna fix that.” He advises, and Puck belatedly realises he’s been sitting around for the last three hours with his belt undone.  
“Shit…&rdquo
He watches Kurt climb into his car and drive off as he re-buckles himself, and tries not to think too much about Kurt un-buckling it in the first place as he heads back inside
He has a dull achy feeling in his chest as he grabs his guitar from the sofa and shouts through to his mom that he’s already eaten and he doesn’t want anything. He pauses for a second in the doorway; but he has no idea how to tell her he’s never gonna be the good little Jewish boy she wants him to be and oh, by the way, he’s dating boys now.
Fuck. He hadn’t even really thought about having that conversation
He slams his bedroom door closed and collapses on his bed, pushing the piles of dirty laundry aside and glad as fuck Kurt never saw this place. He stares unseeingly at his ceiling for a bit. Then he picks up his guitar again and starts strumming; strumming mindless chords until eventually they re-form into 'Sweet Caroline' and he spends the rest of the night singing for all he’s worth.