Baby It's Cold Outside
Title: Baby It's Cold Outside
Author: xallegedlyx
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Puck always liked running. Sometimes it's running away. Sometimes it's running towards.
Disclaimer: Do not own, do not sue.
The air that left Puck’s lungs, warmed from the core of his body, tumbling from between his lips, came out in puffs of steam. In the middle of the frosty winter morning, it curled about him, white and wispy. He ran through the little clouds of his own breath, trying not to think about anything in particular, other than the way the air from him was so different from the air all around him. Only five seconds ago, the air that he breathed in was the same as the rest of it, clear and crisp and cold when he inhaled, but when his body had done with it, it came out in peals of white, so different from before. He just kept running.
Puck always liked running. He had been on the track team in eighth grade for about two weeks. Until Coach Tanaka recruited him one day to football. He used to love the track team though. The way his legs would burn when he ran for long enough, the steady thrum of his own footfalls, the hypnotic breathing, in and out, in and out. The gay kid had been on the track team too. It was just another thing that kept Puck coming. He was pretty sure the gay kid had never noticed him there. This was back when Puck was a quiet little kid. Before, when he just liked running and listening to acoustic guitar. Before his dad left. Before football. Puck would go to track every day and watch the gay kid run. Kurt could run so fast. His long legs would carry him around the track like he was as light as air. On hot days Kurt would take his shirt off like the other boys and it would make Puck’s mouth go a little dry. But he always just blamed it on the hot weather.
Things changed though, before long. Puck quit the track team because Coach promised him he could be first-string in two years, built like he was. QB in three, probably. Just after that though, Finn showed up. Goodbye quarterback dreams. Sometimes during practice he would see the track team run around the field, and Kurt would be there, just as mesmerizing as ever. But the gay kid got picked on for being gay, and left. Puck didn’t see him much after that. Puck’s dad left before Halloween of that year.
For the rest of that year and the summer, Puck almost completely forgot about Kurt. There was football to deal with, and school, and his dad being gone, his mom’s instability, and this whole new fascination with girls and breasts. He wasn’t thinking about the scrawny gay kid whose eyes were always bright green after a big run. He wouldn’t think about that. Just that senior girl Becca who got him drunk after homecoming and sucked his dick. Or the Cheerio Natasha who would let him reach up her skirt. Or Dan the wide receiver’s divorced mom who one time made out with him in the car after she drove him home from a game. He didn’t have time to think of anything outside of all the play he was getting. His dick certainly wouldn’t allow it.
When freshman year started and he saw the gay kid again, he pushed him into a locker. He made sure to do so every time he saw him. The gay kid and his nice clothes and his normal family and his good grades and his doe-eyes. Well he certainly wasn’t getting laid like Puck was. One time he got a waft of the sweet smell of Kurt’s shampoo or something, and threw him into a dumpster for the first time, just so he wouldn’t have to smell it anymore. Just so it wouldn’t bother him anymore. There was no reason the aroma of Kurt’s anything should get his blood pumping more than a girl’s tits. But it did. And he hated it.
Just to prove he was as straight a stud as ever there could be, he banged all the cheerios he could. He got the brilliant pool-cleaning idea and hit every milf in town. He even slept with Quinn, just to stick it to them all. Ha, and look how that turned out. Sometimes it made him feel disgusting. All those women and their lipstick-y blow-jobs and slobbery kisses and needy sexts. It made him feel grimy and grody and gross. Sure, he got off. His balls were anything but blue. No one could deny he was a stud. But the only thing that ever made him feel better was that run in the early morning run every day. It was like he was just a kid again. He would watch the sun rise and feel his heart beat and let his feet beat the way along the road. It didn’t matter that his mom cried every weekend since his dad left. It didn’t matter that he would never get out of this town. It didn’t matter that he still thought about the gay kid, that his voice when he sang would ring in his ears for days, that when he closed his eyes he could see the way Kurt moved when he danced and when he ran. The cold morning air would cleanse him. The sun in his eyes would purge him. The sweat that ran from his neck and forehead was his holy baptism, the panted breathing his mantra, the steady beat of his shoes hitting pavement his therapy.
He watched his breath as he ran. Hot puffs in the frigid air. The middle of December. He’d slept with his friend Bobby’s mom a couple nights ago. Bobby was on the soccer team. Her nails had been painted a deep purple and dug into his biceps when she came. The cold air in his lungs let him let it go. He watched the frozen landscape around him. There’d been a storm yesterday, but now it was serene. The branches of the trees where white with frost. The ground was blanketed in a layer of snow.
Ahead of him, someone was running. It was so odd to him, so different than usual. At this time of morning, on a cold day like this, he was normally the only one in sight. He called Hey! And they stopped. Against the covered white world they stood there, the only thing moving, the only thing visible. When he caught up his heart leapt to see that it was the gay kid, cheeks painted pink from the cold.
Puck let the beat of his legs slow, then stop.
“Hey,” he said casually. The kid was wearing a black North Face windbreaker and a pair of battered running shoes that peaked out from below his blue Nike pants.
“Hi,” the gay kid said.
“What’s going on?” Puck asked. He didn’t know why he was trying to make conversation right now.
“Nothing. Just running.” The gay boy shrugged. Puck was in love with his pointy little nose and the swoop of his hair on his forehead. He was enchanted by the way he shifted his weight from his left foot to his right foot and put one of his hands in his pocket. Just absolutely astounded by the way a person’s voice could be so soft.
“Where’re you going?” Puck rumbles.
“I was thinking I’d run down to the park.” This was not fair. Puck was anything but a blushing virgin. He didn’t know what it was about this kid that made him feel hormonal and crazy all over again. He thought he was over with this.
“Can I come?”
“Okay.” Kurt agrees easily enough. He turns then picks up his feet. Puck’s not thinking and now he’s just running. Hearing the beat of his shoes match the beat of Kurt’s shoes as they fall in next to each other. It’s simple and quiet. They breathe in and breathe out, the steam curls up around them, then is left behind.
“Happy Hanukkah, by the way.” Kurt says while they run. “Isn’t that happening right now?”
“Yeah,” Puck says. “Thanks.”
They keep running. Kurt begins humming something, or sort of dum dum de dum dumm-ing. Puck recognizes it after a minute. Baby It’s Cold Outside. He only takes the high parts. Typical gay boy. He only takes the female part of the song. At the same time, Puck wants so badly to fill in with his own baritone rumble, to complete it.
Puck doesn’t know a lot of things. He doesn’t know if his mom will ever stop crying. He doesn’t know if he’s going to make anything of himself. He doesn’t know if he’s gay. He doesn’t know anything about algebra, and he should because there’s a test coming up. He doesn’t know if he believes in God or the Torah or if he actually believes in Judaism at all. He doesn’t know what he’s going to get Quinn for Christmas. He doesn't know what to do about being a father. He doesn’t know if he wants to quit football. He doesn’t know what will happen when he and Kurt get to the park. He doesn’t know if maybe he will kiss him, like he wants to. They keep running. Puck figures he’ll just keep beating out this rhythm, this pounding of shoes on the sidewalk that brings them steadily towards their destination, the park not far ahead. He figures eventually he’ll find out.
Author: xallegedlyx
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Puck always liked running. Sometimes it's running away. Sometimes it's running towards.
Disclaimer: Do not own, do not sue.
The air that left Puck’s lungs, warmed from the core of his body, tumbling from between his lips, came out in puffs of steam. In the middle of the frosty winter morning, it curled about him, white and wispy. He ran through the little clouds of his own breath, trying not to think about anything in particular, other than the way the air from him was so different from the air all around him. Only five seconds ago, the air that he breathed in was the same as the rest of it, clear and crisp and cold when he inhaled, but when his body had done with it, it came out in peals of white, so different from before. He just kept running.
Puck always liked running. He had been on the track team in eighth grade for about two weeks. Until Coach Tanaka recruited him one day to football. He used to love the track team though. The way his legs would burn when he ran for long enough, the steady thrum of his own footfalls, the hypnotic breathing, in and out, in and out. The gay kid had been on the track team too. It was just another thing that kept Puck coming. He was pretty sure the gay kid had never noticed him there. This was back when Puck was a quiet little kid. Before, when he just liked running and listening to acoustic guitar. Before his dad left. Before football. Puck would go to track every day and watch the gay kid run. Kurt could run so fast. His long legs would carry him around the track like he was as light as air. On hot days Kurt would take his shirt off like the other boys and it would make Puck’s mouth go a little dry. But he always just blamed it on the hot weather.
Things changed though, before long. Puck quit the track team because Coach promised him he could be first-string in two years, built like he was. QB in three, probably. Just after that though, Finn showed up. Goodbye quarterback dreams. Sometimes during practice he would see the track team run around the field, and Kurt would be there, just as mesmerizing as ever. But the gay kid got picked on for being gay, and left. Puck didn’t see him much after that. Puck’s dad left before Halloween of that year.
For the rest of that year and the summer, Puck almost completely forgot about Kurt. There was football to deal with, and school, and his dad being gone, his mom’s instability, and this whole new fascination with girls and breasts. He wasn’t thinking about the scrawny gay kid whose eyes were always bright green after a big run. He wouldn’t think about that. Just that senior girl Becca who got him drunk after homecoming and sucked his dick. Or the Cheerio Natasha who would let him reach up her skirt. Or Dan the wide receiver’s divorced mom who one time made out with him in the car after she drove him home from a game. He didn’t have time to think of anything outside of all the play he was getting. His dick certainly wouldn’t allow it.
When freshman year started and he saw the gay kid again, he pushed him into a locker. He made sure to do so every time he saw him. The gay kid and his nice clothes and his normal family and his good grades and his doe-eyes. Well he certainly wasn’t getting laid like Puck was. One time he got a waft of the sweet smell of Kurt’s shampoo or something, and threw him into a dumpster for the first time, just so he wouldn’t have to smell it anymore. Just so it wouldn’t bother him anymore. There was no reason the aroma of Kurt’s anything should get his blood pumping more than a girl’s tits. But it did. And he hated it.
Just to prove he was as straight a stud as ever there could be, he banged all the cheerios he could. He got the brilliant pool-cleaning idea and hit every milf in town. He even slept with Quinn, just to stick it to them all. Ha, and look how that turned out. Sometimes it made him feel disgusting. All those women and their lipstick-y blow-jobs and slobbery kisses and needy sexts. It made him feel grimy and grody and gross. Sure, he got off. His balls were anything but blue. No one could deny he was a stud. But the only thing that ever made him feel better was that run in the early morning run every day. It was like he was just a kid again. He would watch the sun rise and feel his heart beat and let his feet beat the way along the road. It didn’t matter that his mom cried every weekend since his dad left. It didn’t matter that he would never get out of this town. It didn’t matter that he still thought about the gay kid, that his voice when he sang would ring in his ears for days, that when he closed his eyes he could see the way Kurt moved when he danced and when he ran. The cold morning air would cleanse him. The sun in his eyes would purge him. The sweat that ran from his neck and forehead was his holy baptism, the panted breathing his mantra, the steady beat of his shoes hitting pavement his therapy.
He watched his breath as he ran. Hot puffs in the frigid air. The middle of December. He’d slept with his friend Bobby’s mom a couple nights ago. Bobby was on the soccer team. Her nails had been painted a deep purple and dug into his biceps when she came. The cold air in his lungs let him let it go. He watched the frozen landscape around him. There’d been a storm yesterday, but now it was serene. The branches of the trees where white with frost. The ground was blanketed in a layer of snow.
Ahead of him, someone was running. It was so odd to him, so different than usual. At this time of morning, on a cold day like this, he was normally the only one in sight. He called Hey! And they stopped. Against the covered white world they stood there, the only thing moving, the only thing visible. When he caught up his heart leapt to see that it was the gay kid, cheeks painted pink from the cold.
Puck let the beat of his legs slow, then stop.
“Hey,” he said casually. The kid was wearing a black North Face windbreaker and a pair of battered running shoes that peaked out from below his blue Nike pants.
“Hi,” the gay kid said.
“What’s going on?” Puck asked. He didn’t know why he was trying to make conversation right now.
“Nothing. Just running.” The gay boy shrugged. Puck was in love with his pointy little nose and the swoop of his hair on his forehead. He was enchanted by the way he shifted his weight from his left foot to his right foot and put one of his hands in his pocket. Just absolutely astounded by the way a person’s voice could be so soft.
“Where’re you going?” Puck rumbles.
“I was thinking I’d run down to the park.” This was not fair. Puck was anything but a blushing virgin. He didn’t know what it was about this kid that made him feel hormonal and crazy all over again. He thought he was over with this.
“Can I come?”
“Okay.” Kurt agrees easily enough. He turns then picks up his feet. Puck’s not thinking and now he’s just running. Hearing the beat of his shoes match the beat of Kurt’s shoes as they fall in next to each other. It’s simple and quiet. They breathe in and breathe out, the steam curls up around them, then is left behind.
“Happy Hanukkah, by the way.” Kurt says while they run. “Isn’t that happening right now?”
“Yeah,” Puck says. “Thanks.”
They keep running. Kurt begins humming something, or sort of dum dum de dum dumm-ing. Puck recognizes it after a minute. Baby It’s Cold Outside. He only takes the high parts. Typical gay boy. He only takes the female part of the song. At the same time, Puck wants so badly to fill in with his own baritone rumble, to complete it.
Puck doesn’t know a lot of things. He doesn’t know if his mom will ever stop crying. He doesn’t know if he’s going to make anything of himself. He doesn’t know if he’s gay. He doesn’t know anything about algebra, and he should because there’s a test coming up. He doesn’t know if he believes in God or the Torah or if he actually believes in Judaism at all. He doesn’t know what he’s going to get Quinn for Christmas. He doesn't know what to do about being a father. He doesn’t know if he wants to quit football. He doesn’t know what will happen when he and Kurt get to the park. He doesn’t know if maybe he will kiss him, like he wants to. They keep running. Puck figures he’ll just keep beating out this rhythm, this pounding of shoes on the sidewalk that brings them steadily towards their destination, the park not far ahead. He figures eventually he’ll find out.