[Fic] What Happened in Vegas? Oh that... (4/?)
Title: What Happened in Vegas? Oh that...
Pairing: Non-est Kurt/Puck
Rating: M 15+ (some naughty language)
Warnings: Slash, Drinking and Sexual references also some naughty language. People like to swear when they are upset.
Spoilers: To sectionals to be safe.
Summary: [future fic] Drinking, it's all fun and games till someone gets hitched.
Disclaimer: Don't own Glee. If I did I'd be in there singing and dancing with them. No joke.
Beta: The ever helpful lezi who helped turn the awkward, wordy phrasing of my mind in to sentences.
Notes: The fourth chapter is here. Huzzah. Nothing new to report, but if you could let me know what you liked, what you didn't like and what you want more of don't hesitate to let me know. It help's speed things along *wink wink* Enjoy!
Why Old People Should Not Know How to Use the Internet
Kurt turned to face Puck, a mixture of rage, shame and embarrassment gleaming in his eyes. Puck instinctively took a step back as Kurt let out all the emotions he was holding.
“What the fucking hell, Noah?” Kurt yelled. Puck winced; Kurt was not one to take swearing lightly. “What stupid, little thought possessed you to post a fucking picture of this - this disaster on the Internet?”
Puck opened his mouth to protest but Kurt cut that little idea off. “Don’t you even dare say this was my idea. You were the one who got me drunk and married me!” He pointed an accusing finger at Puck. “You baited me! You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist taking on one of your stupid bets.”
Kurt rested his hands on either side of his face, pulling the loose skin back, staring at the floor with shock-widened eyes. He murmured, “I am an idiot and a fool,” He removed his hands and shifted his gaze towards Puck. “And it’s all your fault!”
Puck stood still, eyes downcast as Kurt continued to berate him. He was pretty sure he deserved it. Foggy, vague images from the night before came into focus as Kurt’s continuous string of insults washed over him.
“Noah, I think I’m really drunk,” Kurt hiccupped, his eyes unfocused as he played with one of the now-empty shot glasses.
“Not drunk enough, not yet!” Puck laughed and continued to signal the bartender for another round.
So he was guilty for pushing Kurt past - okay, way past his limit. Another memory from last night entered his conscious.
“The fresh air will do you good.” A surprisingly still-steady Puck led a horrendously-green-in-the-face Kurt down the roads of Las Vegas.
As they casually passed a row of chapels Kurt laughed. “Think of all the stupid drunk people who get married here!”
Puck laughed right along with Kurt. However, he casually (if not unconsciously) guided them both to the entrance of one they had been passing. Kurt, completely oblivious at this point, was none the wiser as he followed Puck inside.
So… the getting-married bit was totally his idea as well. Great. He really was to blame for this whole mess. He let Kurt continue to flay him.
“Now the world knows that I let you get me drunk and that I agreed to marry you,” Kurt complained. “In Vegas of all places!” Kurt sighed shakily. “What a cliché. I’ll never be able to show my face in public again.”
His panic increased. “I’ll be the laughing stock--” At that point Kurt’s phone rang, some loud, upbeat dance tune Puck didn’t recognize, and it broke Kurt out of his tirade as he hesitantly answered the phone.
“Hello,” Kurt chirped with obviously false enthusiasm. “Oh, Rachel!” His face went into a grimace as he said, “You saw the photo, huh.” Kurt’s faced flushed a bright red and Puck could faintly make out Rachel’s condescending tone on the other line.
“I knew it,” she announced proudly, “I just knew it would happen eventually. All the signs were there, even in high school. I should know, I have two gay dads, after all--”
Her rant was cut short when Kurt muttered a hasty “Good-bye Rachel” and hung up the phone. Kurt groaned and slapped a palm to his face. “If Rachel knows, everybody knows. This is just fan-fucking-tastic.”
Before Puck could attempt to cheer Kurt up, Kurt’s phone rang again. Kurt groaned and contemplated not answering it until he saw Mercedes’ number flash on the caller ID. He opened his phone and let out a dramatic sigh. “You know too, huh, Mercedes?”
Puck heard her shrill reply: “Of course I know! Rachel knows, ergo everyone knows.”
“That's precisely what I said,” Kurt replied wearily. “Before you lecture me on my poor decision-making skills, you have to know that this was just a huge misunderstanding. Puck and I met up here in Vegas and went out for some drinks. He and I got into a little drinking contest--”
Kurt pulled the phone away from his ear as Mercedes voice raised a few decibels (was that possible?). “Boy, what the hell did you get yourself into!? You are such a fool for taking on a stupid bet--that dunderhead! You knew this couldn’t have panned out well!”
She sighed. “You know this isn’t going to be easy to fix, right? You’re now legally tied to this moron for who knows how long. This is your first marriage, Kurt! It’s your first marriage, and it’s gonna end in divorce.“ She snorted to herself. “Mark my words it will end in divorce. I’m sorry, but Puck is not marriage material.”
Kurt nodded in agreement, despite the fact that Mercedes couldn‘t see it. “Puck’s certainly not marriage material. He sort of pushed me into this whole mess, after all. This sucks.” He frowned. “My first marriage--a first marriage, with Puck of all people! This is a mess...”
Puck couldn’t help but feel a little offended that both Mercedes and Kurt had so little faith in him and his marital abilities. Who’s to say he wouldn’t be a kickass husband? Puck would be kickass at whatever he did, so this doubtful Kurt further fuelled his need to prove him--him, Mercedes and anyone else who thought he couldn’t handle married life, wrong. He was going to prove to them that he could be a fantastic husband, even if it was the last thing he did.
When Puck broke out of his little epiphany, Kurt had finished his conversation with Mercedes and was currently calling up his lawyer-friend (Harvey?). “Send some divorce papers… stat… end this quickie marriage with some sense of order…” Kurt muttered to himself as he put the phone to his ear.
They were the recipients of many calls and messages that day: Puck received a painfully awkward “Congratulations, man” from Finn, which involved the other boy trying his best to remain politically correct and express his happiness for this new development in his friend’s life. Puck just groaned and thanked Finn, not enjoying this part of the ordeal one bit.
When Puck’s phone rang for what had to be the fiftieth time, he groaned and answered it with a robotic, hollow “Hello.” What he didn’t expect was the all-too-familiar voice on the other line.
“Noah Puckerman, when were you going to tell me you had a boyfriend and that you were getting married?”
Puck’s face went several shades paler as he stuttered out, “Mom?”
He was going to kill his little sister for showing their mother how to use the Internet.
Pairing: Non-est Kurt/Puck
Rating: M 15+ (some naughty language)
Warnings: Slash, Drinking and Sexual references also some naughty language. People like to swear when they are upset.
Spoilers: To sectionals to be safe.
Summary: [future fic] Drinking, it's all fun and games till someone gets hitched.
Disclaimer: Don't own Glee. If I did I'd be in there singing and dancing with them. No joke.
Beta: The ever helpful lezi who helped turn the awkward, wordy phrasing of my mind in to sentences.
Notes: The fourth chapter is here. Huzzah. Nothing new to report, but if you could let me know what you liked, what you didn't like and what you want more of don't hesitate to let me know. It help's speed things along *wink wink* Enjoy!
Why Old People Should Not Know How to Use the Internet
Kurt turned to face Puck, a mixture of rage, shame and embarrassment gleaming in his eyes. Puck instinctively took a step back as Kurt let out all the emotions he was holding.
“What the fucking hell, Noah?” Kurt yelled. Puck winced; Kurt was not one to take swearing lightly. “What stupid, little thought possessed you to post a fucking picture of this - this disaster on the Internet?”
Puck opened his mouth to protest but Kurt cut that little idea off. “Don’t you even dare say this was my idea. You were the one who got me drunk and married me!” He pointed an accusing finger at Puck. “You baited me! You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist taking on one of your stupid bets.”
Kurt rested his hands on either side of his face, pulling the loose skin back, staring at the floor with shock-widened eyes. He murmured, “I am an idiot and a fool,” He removed his hands and shifted his gaze towards Puck. “And it’s all your fault!”
Puck stood still, eyes downcast as Kurt continued to berate him. He was pretty sure he deserved it. Foggy, vague images from the night before came into focus as Kurt’s continuous string of insults washed over him.
“Noah, I think I’m really drunk,” Kurt hiccupped, his eyes unfocused as he played with one of the now-empty shot glasses.
“Not drunk enough, not yet!” Puck laughed and continued to signal the bartender for another round.
So he was guilty for pushing Kurt past - okay, way past his limit. Another memory from last night entered his conscious.
“The fresh air will do you good.” A surprisingly still-steady Puck led a horrendously-green-in-the-face Kurt down the roads of Las Vegas.
As they casually passed a row of chapels Kurt laughed. “Think of all the stupid drunk people who get married here!”
Puck laughed right along with Kurt. However, he casually (if not unconsciously) guided them both to the entrance of one they had been passing. Kurt, completely oblivious at this point, was none the wiser as he followed Puck inside.
So… the getting-married bit was totally his idea as well. Great. He really was to blame for this whole mess. He let Kurt continue to flay him.
“Now the world knows that I let you get me drunk and that I agreed to marry you,” Kurt complained. “In Vegas of all places!” Kurt sighed shakily. “What a cliché. I’ll never be able to show my face in public again.”
His panic increased. “I’ll be the laughing stock--” At that point Kurt’s phone rang, some loud, upbeat dance tune Puck didn’t recognize, and it broke Kurt out of his tirade as he hesitantly answered the phone.
“Hello,” Kurt chirped with obviously false enthusiasm. “Oh, Rachel!” His face went into a grimace as he said, “You saw the photo, huh.” Kurt’s faced flushed a bright red and Puck could faintly make out Rachel’s condescending tone on the other line.
“I knew it,” she announced proudly, “I just knew it would happen eventually. All the signs were there, even in high school. I should know, I have two gay dads, after all--”
Her rant was cut short when Kurt muttered a hasty “Good-bye Rachel” and hung up the phone. Kurt groaned and slapped a palm to his face. “If Rachel knows, everybody knows. This is just fan-fucking-tastic.”
Before Puck could attempt to cheer Kurt up, Kurt’s phone rang again. Kurt groaned and contemplated not answering it until he saw Mercedes’ number flash on the caller ID. He opened his phone and let out a dramatic sigh. “You know too, huh, Mercedes?”
Puck heard her shrill reply: “Of course I know! Rachel knows, ergo everyone knows.”
“That's precisely what I said,” Kurt replied wearily. “Before you lecture me on my poor decision-making skills, you have to know that this was just a huge misunderstanding. Puck and I met up here in Vegas and went out for some drinks. He and I got into a little drinking contest--”
Kurt pulled the phone away from his ear as Mercedes voice raised a few decibels (was that possible?). “Boy, what the hell did you get yourself into!? You are such a fool for taking on a stupid bet--that dunderhead! You knew this couldn’t have panned out well!”
She sighed. “You know this isn’t going to be easy to fix, right? You’re now legally tied to this moron for who knows how long. This is your first marriage, Kurt! It’s your first marriage, and it’s gonna end in divorce.“ She snorted to herself. “Mark my words it will end in divorce. I’m sorry, but Puck is not marriage material.”
Kurt nodded in agreement, despite the fact that Mercedes couldn‘t see it. “Puck’s certainly not marriage material. He sort of pushed me into this whole mess, after all. This sucks.” He frowned. “My first marriage--a first marriage, with Puck of all people! This is a mess...”
Puck couldn’t help but feel a little offended that both Mercedes and Kurt had so little faith in him and his marital abilities. Who’s to say he wouldn’t be a kickass husband? Puck would be kickass at whatever he did, so this doubtful Kurt further fuelled his need to prove him--him, Mercedes and anyone else who thought he couldn’t handle married life, wrong. He was going to prove to them that he could be a fantastic husband, even if it was the last thing he did.
When Puck broke out of his little epiphany, Kurt had finished his conversation with Mercedes and was currently calling up his lawyer-friend (Harvey?). “Send some divorce papers… stat… end this quickie marriage with some sense of order…” Kurt muttered to himself as he put the phone to his ear.
They were the recipients of many calls and messages that day: Puck received a painfully awkward “Congratulations, man” from Finn, which involved the other boy trying his best to remain politically correct and express his happiness for this new development in his friend’s life. Puck just groaned and thanked Finn, not enjoying this part of the ordeal one bit.
When Puck’s phone rang for what had to be the fiftieth time, he groaned and answered it with a robotic, hollow “Hello.” What he didn’t expect was the all-too-familiar voice on the other line.
“Noah Puckerman, when were you going to tell me you had a boyfriend and that you were getting married?”
Puck’s face went several shades paler as he stuttered out, “Mom?”
He was going to kill his little sister for showing their mother how to use the Internet.