November Rain Chapter 3
Title: November Rain
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: pre-slash Puck/Kurt, Santana, Mercedes, Brittany, hints of Santana/Brittany.
Rating: PG-13 ish.
Chapters: 3/??
Summary: Kurt learns that sometimes things aren’t always what they seem. That bad guys sometimes are good and good guys can break your heart.\
Chapter Summary:”I don’t think Puck only dates black girls....”
Spoilers: Up to "Theatricality"
Warnings: language
A/N: This got written a little while ago but I’ve sold my soul to the underwear gods and alas, I took forever to type it up. FORGIVE ME. But I hope you enjoy it. More Bossy!Santana.:D
Also, I must give credit where credit is due. porcelainorchid not only beta’d for me YET AGAIN but she wrote all of Puck’s parts during their little note scene. She did it so well I couldn’t not include it. :D<3
Previous Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
After school, Santana invited herself over. Which meant she also invited Brittany over. That kind of bummed Puck out, ‘cause he was sort of hoping he’d be able to somehow con another ride out of Kurt. But Santana said his bad ass-ness and stud standing wouldn’t be quite enough for someone like Kurt.
“First of all,” She said, shoving a pile of clothes off his bed so she could sit. “You don’t get to fuck him. At least not for the first few dates.” Puck frowned. staring at her.
“Why is that the first thing?”
“Because, Puck, ‘I’m a virgin’ is like an open invitation in your twisted little brain. And maybe you don’t believe they exist, but the guy does have some standards. You don’t get to ruin that for like... two months or something.”
Two months was a long time to go ‘dating’ someone without fucking them, and Puck wasn’t even sure he wanted to date Kurt. Santana had kind of just decided for him. The Puckanator didn’t really do dating. Mercedes had been the closest thing to a celibate relationship and they hadn’t even kissed so it couldn’t even really be counted as a relationship. Plus, it’d only lasted maybe a week. Puck couldn’t really remember. He’d been distracted by Kurt… in general, and his kind of sexy man voice and Mellancamp and wanting to give that Israel kid a swirly so bad, his stupid jewfro would be stuck in the septic tank.
“Santana, this is stupid. I’ll admit, I like Hummel’s ass, but I don’t date. Especially not exclusively. And I really, really don’t date guys.” Santana leaned across the bed towards him, eyes narrowed in a way that he tried really hard to not consider a little intimidating.
“Brit, what was it you said about Puck earlier?” Brittany, who was sitting on the floor, drawing designs on the carpet with her finger, looked up at Puck.
“That he was capital G gay... and so far in the closet he was in the garage.” Puck gaped at her and Santana grinned.
“Right. Also, you have never dated a boy, Noah Puckerman. So you don’t know if you do or do not date them. Stop being a pussy and admit your flaming, glittery feelings. I thought you were a stud.” Puck glared at her and really she’d at least pretend to be a little intimidated by it. But all in all, Puck had no words. Sure, he’d kind of fantasied about Hummel’s ass or mouth while he jacked off and...okay...one time he watched some gay porn, but that didn’t mean he was going all Adam Lambert.
“Why are you even trying to hook me up with Hummel and make sure I treat him right and shit? I thought you hated everyone but Brittany and were all like... possessive of me like with Mercedes and that sexy cat fight.” Santana rolled her eyes and scoffed.
“I could not, in good conscious, all you to date her. It would be like... knowing endangerment or something. Also, I don’t hate Kurt.” At this, she smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “I’ve liked him since 3rd grade when he gave up the swing so Brit and I could swing together. I don’t forget.” Puck rolled his eyes, resigning himself to whatever Santana had planned.
“Guess there’s no point in fighting you is there?” Santana shook her head, patting Puck’s cheeks.
“It’s best to just bend over and take it. Let it happen.” Puck tried very hard to not let her see that he was a little terrified.
XxXxXxXxXxX
“‘I’m Not a Waitress’ red will be perfect for your nails, Brittany. It’s going to look absolutely fabulous.” Kurt gushed, pulling Brittany’s hand closer. The blonde girl smiled, head cocking.
“And I’m not a waitress, so it makes sense, too... right?” Kurt nodded absently and began painting her nails.
Kurt was feeling a little distracted. All during Glee club the previous day, Santana had been staring at him. At. Him. Santana was kind of seriously terrifying when she felt like it and having her sharp eyes right on him made Kurt increasingly nervous. What if Puck had told her what had happened and now Santana was going to make a very couture mini from his skin. She’d be able to rock it, she did have killer legs and the paleness of his skin really would compliment hers. Plus, it’d be a warning to everyone. Everyone knew Santana was more than a little possessive of Puck. She’d practically ripped out Mercedes’ weave when she’d made a move on the jock. If she knew that they had kissed, she’d slaughter him. Kurt shook his head, focusing harder on fixing a little mess to the side of Brittany’s nail. Stress caused pimples and pimples were just one more thing he didn’t need.
Besides, Kurt thought with a little sigh. I’m sure that kiss meant nothing to Puck. He’s kissed nearly everyone in Lima. Kisses are like hand shakes to him. Kurt tried very hard to ignore how depressed the thought made him.
“Are you okay, Kurt? You’re making unhappy noises.” Kurt raised his eyes to Brittany and gave her a little smile.
“I’m fine, Brit. Just lamenting the fact that I could not rock the red nails as well. Despite their perfect shape.” Brittany smiled and waved her hands in the air to dry them.
“Maybe you could. Santana always says how Cheerios can do anything. Especially when dating a football player. It’s why we dated Mark Lakes.” Kurt laughed softly, filing at his own nails.
“Right. I’ll just go ask Mike to prom. Maybe we’ll even be voted Prom Kings.” Brittany’s eyes widened and she shook her head. Kurt forgot sometimes that sarcasm went right over Brittany’s head.
“No, Kurt. You can’t date Mike. You should date Puck.” Kurt froze, staring up at his friend.
“That... Brittany, that’s a ridiculous suggestion. And one that if I followed, could probably actually get me murdered.” Brittany cocked her head to the side in confusion.
“Why? When Santana and I made a list of hottest guys in school, Puck was number one on the list. And he’s in Glee and he’s on the football team. He dated Mercedes....”
“There is a very distinct difference between Mercedes and myself.”
“I don’t think Puck only dates black girls. Although.... he did say Beyonce had a great ass...” Kurt resisted the urge to groan, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I am a boy. Mercedes is a girl.”
“So?”
“Puck isn’t gay, Brittany. He likes girls with boobs and no penis.” Brittany smiled a little, looking at her fingernails.
“Santana likes guys. A lot. But that doesn’t stop her and me.” Kurt shifted a little uncomfortably.
“That’s.... you guys are different.”
“How do you know? People change their minds sometimes.” Kurt frowned and though back on the brief kiss Puck gave him. Thought about how it wasn’t pushy or too rushed. How it was almost sweet and caring. He signed and rubbed his head. Brittany’s suggestions were never really ever good ones.
“You and Puck would be like... the Power Couple, Kurt. Santana said so.” Kurt’s eyes snapped up to Brittany’s.
“Santana?! You talked to Santana about this? Why?”
“Because we always play the Who Should Date game. Just... think about it, Kurt. He is a great kisser.” Kurt knew he would think about it. Even if he didn’t want to.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Puck was not used to feeling nervous. He was Puckzilla, he had no fear. But when Santana challenged him to ask Kurt to hang out- and just hang out- Puck got a tense feeling in his chest. Puck didn’t ask people out on dates. He walked up to a girl, let loose some pick up line, and she was practically lifting her skirt in the hallways. But Santana told him that would not work on Kurt. Puck had to actually be nice, do things Kurt would want to do, shit like that. But Puck kept picturing Kurt’s brutal rejection. He wasn’t so sure Kurt would let go of all those dumpster tosses and the mean shit Puck put him through. But Santana had threatened to tear off his balls if he didn’t stop acting like a little girl and just ask the guy out. Anyways, he was the Puckster. He was a stud. He could do anything. They had Spanish together next… he’d start his plan of attack there.
Very little shocked Kurt about Noah Puckerman. But when he slipped into Spanish, only a couple minutes late, and sat next to Kurt, he was a little surprised, but tried to ignore it. That is until Puck pushed a piece of paper with messy handwriting his way.
Como se dice “Mr. Schuester’s fly is down” en Espanol? Kurt stared at the paper in shock, contemplating just ignoring it but before he knew it, his pencil was moving.
You actually showed up for more than the last fifteen minutes? Mr. Schue might actually weep for joy.
Hope he doesn’t get too excited. I don’t plan on paying that much attention.
What could you possibly be doing during school if you’re not in class anyways? Hunting down Cheerios? Stealing virtue?
Puckzilla can’t be caged in by the four corners of this shithole school. Obviously. Sometimes I just hang around the choir room with my guitar.
You do realize what a ridiculous nickname “Puckzilla” is, right? At least “Puck” has literary background.
The Puckinator has no idea what you’re talking about... your face is ridiculous, so your argument is invalid.
It’s literally like talking to a six year old when I’m talking to you.
Puckasaurous thinks you’re being just a little dramatic, Hummbelina.
Children give themselves dinosaur nicknames. And don’t call me that.
Why not? I kind of like it. You’re very small and you know, a little girly. So it’s pretty fitting. Me on the other hand... I’m fifty stories worth of terrifyingly delicious muscular dinosaur meat that can breathe fire. Godzilla kinda has a mohawk, too.
Thumbellina was a girl, moron. I am not.
Don’t make me state the obvious. I know you’re a dude, but you’re the girliest dude I know. You know, in the least offensive way possible. We could go with Kurtella instead. Kinda like Nutella, so that would make you chocolatey and delicious on toast?
Can’t I just keep my normal name? I don’t need a dumb nickname.
You absolutely need a dumb nickname. What will you possibly do with out one? Even your black chick friend has one. Aretha, remember? Asian, other asian? I forgot what Sylvester called you. Gay kid? I’d rather just call you Hummbelina.
She calls me Kurt now, since I’m a cheerio. Well... that or Lady Face but I will castrate you if you call me that.
Like you could handle Puckzilla’s might balls of titanium. I’d laugh at your feeble attempt.
Please. You think way too highly of yourself.
My balls are the only thing I’ve got going for me right now, so excuse me if I glorify them a bit. Well, my cock too. Cockzilla.
Super charming. No wonder so many girls let you into their pants. It’s sad. No one believes in romance any more.
If you’re looking to be wooed in this town, you’re delusional. The most romantic thing I’ve seen all month is Brittany’s budding relationship with the janitor.
It's sad, really. Most people's idea of romance is bringing a condom along.
Hey, that is romantic. I mean, it's considerate and all, right? And you're one to talk, you tried the whole... really weird and awkward thing with Brittany.
Ugh, don't remind me. Please. I've been trying to block the memory.
So you actually did make out with her, then? Did you touch her boobs? You didn't fuck her, did you? Because that would... really mess with my head.
Yes, no, and NO! Still... I don't know what I was thinking over the whole thing. Super stupid.
Kind of. But it's whatever, who hasn't tapped that at least once? I'm kind of impressed, Hummel. I wasn't sure if you were capable of talking guy.
May I remind you, yet again, I am in fact a guy. Not a girl with a short hair cut.
This is true. It's not like I don't know you're a dude and all, it's that you talk girl so much sometimes it's hard to imagine you talking guy. I mean come on, you're the one who tried to go over to the girl's team when we split up for mash ups.
That's because I knew none of you would listen to any of my genius ideas. Your loss, really.
I don't know, Kurt... I think you pulled off leather pretty well. You might want to try dressing like a guy more often. I mean... just not in flannel. That was weird.
And disgusting. Besides, almost all of the clothes I wear are boy clothes.
Dude. You wore a corset to school.
I said almost! And it looked awesome. It's not my fault no one here understands couture.
Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Hummel. There's no real point in arguing with you.
You're saying that because you don't know what it is, aren't you.
Yes. But also... you contradict yourself, you know? You say you're proud of who you are, that... being different is the best thing about you, and... I'd deny it to anyone who asks, but... you're right, Hummel. It's what's gonna get you out of this shit town. But then you also want to pretend that you're just another one of the guys... when you're not. You're not one of us, you're not some dumbass guy with a dirty jockstrap in his back pocket who didn't shower this morning because sleep seemed like a better idea. But who cares? You shouldn't care, because you're Kurt Hummel.
Kurt stared at the paper as he walked to his locker. He stared at it in his next class. He stared at it on his way to lunch and nearly forgot to quickly fold the paper and slip it into his pocket before Mercedes could confiscate and question him about it. He hadn’t even told Mercedes about Finn, he wasn’t about to tell her about Puck’s strange behavior.
Finn had stopped sitting with them, had moved over to a table with the jocks who were quick to forget all the shit they put him through. Rachel sent a questioning, searching look in Finn’s direction, and Kurt felt his stomach clench stupidly in guilt. He tried to remind himself that he wasn’t the one to throw around slurs, that he’d tried- in his own way- to make things okay. But when Finn looked up and his eyes only met Kurt’s for a split second before looking away again, Kurt couldn’t explain away the ache in his chest.
He was pulled out of his thoughts when a tray hit the table, the sound of the metal legs of the chair scraping against linoleum before Puck was seated beside Rachel-right across from Kurt.
“Noah!”Rachel squauked, being the first of the gleeks to pull together enough to speak. “What are you doing?” Puck shrugged, popping the tab on his coke and taking a long gulp, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand.
“Eating? Shit, Berry, you gotta problem with that?” Rachel shook her head, eyes still wide.
“No problem. Just wondering why you’re sitting here.” Puck’s eyes flickered to Kurt’s for barely a second before he looked back at Rachel with a smirk and pointed to the bruise by his eye.
“Korofsky and Aizimio are still butt hurt over me kicking their asses. Don’t want me sittin’ over there now. And since everyone else in this school is either terrified of me or thinks I’ve got like...mega sperm that will impregnate them if I’m with in ten feet... you guys are the lucky winners of my company.” He ginned before stealing a french fry from Rachel’s plate. Kurt could practically hearMercedes roll her eyes before her focus was back on him.
“So anyways, I was thinking we should hit up the mall, force those associates to work for their money, stop by a block buster, pick us up some Channing Tatum- that boy is fine for a white boy- and crash at your place. See if Finn will let us have the basement for the night.” Kurt’s eyes widened as he turned away from his limp browning salad.
“N-no! No! We.... we can’t go to my house! We uh... we can’t!” Mercedes raised an eyebrow, frowning a little.
“What? Why not?”
“Because.... because uhm....” He couldn’t tell her it was because he’d torn everything down, that piles of fabric and throws and pillows and lamps now lay around his room. He’d have to tell her everything and Kurt really, really did not want to do that.
“He can’t because he’s helping me work on some shit tonight.” All eyes from the table went to Puck, casually sipping at his coke and shoving food into his mouth, hardly bothering with a napkin. None were more shocked than Kurt.
“I’m sorry, Kurt is helping you with something?” Mercedes questioned, her narrowed eyes flickering between Puck and Kurt. Puck nodded, shrugging.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Aretha. Just needed a little help and Hummel decided to be a cool dude for once. Just chill.” His eyes flickered to Kurt’s once more and he grinned. Mercedes starred at Kurt in shock and he quickly snapped out of the trance he was in.
“Yes. I am helping Puck out with some... school things. In return, he’s teaching me a little more about football besides the horrible color combinations. My dad is simply thrilled. He won tickets to go see the... The Calves.... the... the Ponies.... the...uhm....”
“The Colts?”
“Yes! The Colts! He won tickets to their opening game and I... want to be able to go with him and...you know... follow the game.” Mercedes still looked a little unconvinced so Kurt gave her a smile.
“Don’t worry. You’re on speed dial and I carry pepper spray. I’ll be fine.” Puck snorted, rolling his eyes.
“Please. I’m not gonna hurt Hummel. It’s almost like hitting a girl, you know.” Kurt shot him a little glare before turning back to Mercedes.
“And he’s such a gentleman, too. Really though, I’ll be fine.” Mercedes sighed and shook her head, starting in on her chicken.
“I don’t think it’s the best idea, but whatever. Call me when he turns on you.” Kurt though he saw something flash over Puck’s expression, though he saw Puck’s hands clench against the table, but it was over beofre he could be sure. He let out a little sigh, wishing today would just calm down and stop being weird and let him relax a little. Too much strangeness had happened in the past couple days. Too much in his life and flipped upside down. Puck being nice, Finn avoiding him, Brittany speaking in complete sentences that made sense and had something to do with conversations, while also telling him to go after Noah “Sex Shark” Puckerman.... it was all too much. He passed on eating his salad, rubbing his temples instead. He needed his pajamas, a facemask, and a nap. Pronto.
Puck kicked him under the table and when Kurt sent him a glare, the jock just grinned. With a sigh, Kurt pushed his salad away completely. He knew nothing good could come from playing nice with Noah Puckerman.
A/N: SO THERE YOU GO. Please enjoy!! Please let me know if you did enjoy it! It's nice to hear. :3 I'll get the next installment up asap. Just don't give up on me!
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: pre-slash Puck/Kurt, Santana, Mercedes, Brittany, hints of Santana/Brittany.
Rating: PG-13 ish.
Chapters: 3/??
Summary: Kurt learns that sometimes things aren’t always what they seem. That bad guys sometimes are good and good guys can break your heart.\
Chapter Summary:”I don’t think Puck only dates black girls....”
Spoilers: Up to "Theatricality"
Warnings: language
A/N: This got written a little while ago but I’ve sold my soul to the underwear gods and alas, I took forever to type it up. FORGIVE ME. But I hope you enjoy it. More Bossy!Santana.:D
Also, I must give credit where credit is due. porcelainorchid not only beta’d for me YET AGAIN but she wrote all of Puck’s parts during their little note scene. She did it so well I couldn’t not include it. :D<3
Previous Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
After school, Santana invited herself over. Which meant she also invited Brittany over. That kind of bummed Puck out, ‘cause he was sort of hoping he’d be able to somehow con another ride out of Kurt. But Santana said his bad ass-ness and stud standing wouldn’t be quite enough for someone like Kurt.
“First of all,” She said, shoving a pile of clothes off his bed so she could sit. “You don’t get to fuck him. At least not for the first few dates.” Puck frowned. staring at her.
“Why is that the first thing?”
“Because, Puck, ‘I’m a virgin’ is like an open invitation in your twisted little brain. And maybe you don’t believe they exist, but the guy does have some standards. You don’t get to ruin that for like... two months or something.”
Two months was a long time to go ‘dating’ someone without fucking them, and Puck wasn’t even sure he wanted to date Kurt. Santana had kind of just decided for him. The Puckanator didn’t really do dating. Mercedes had been the closest thing to a celibate relationship and they hadn’t even kissed so it couldn’t even really be counted as a relationship. Plus, it’d only lasted maybe a week. Puck couldn’t really remember. He’d been distracted by Kurt… in general, and his kind of sexy man voice and Mellancamp and wanting to give that Israel kid a swirly so bad, his stupid jewfro would be stuck in the septic tank.
“Santana, this is stupid. I’ll admit, I like Hummel’s ass, but I don’t date. Especially not exclusively. And I really, really don’t date guys.” Santana leaned across the bed towards him, eyes narrowed in a way that he tried really hard to not consider a little intimidating.
“Brit, what was it you said about Puck earlier?” Brittany, who was sitting on the floor, drawing designs on the carpet with her finger, looked up at Puck.
“That he was capital G gay... and so far in the closet he was in the garage.” Puck gaped at her and Santana grinned.
“Right. Also, you have never dated a boy, Noah Puckerman. So you don’t know if you do or do not date them. Stop being a pussy and admit your flaming, glittery feelings. I thought you were a stud.” Puck glared at her and really she’d at least pretend to be a little intimidated by it. But all in all, Puck had no words. Sure, he’d kind of fantasied about Hummel’s ass or mouth while he jacked off and...okay...one time he watched some gay porn, but that didn’t mean he was going all Adam Lambert.
“Why are you even trying to hook me up with Hummel and make sure I treat him right and shit? I thought you hated everyone but Brittany and were all like... possessive of me like with Mercedes and that sexy cat fight.” Santana rolled her eyes and scoffed.
“I could not, in good conscious, all you to date her. It would be like... knowing endangerment or something. Also, I don’t hate Kurt.” At this, she smiled, shrugging her shoulders. “I’ve liked him since 3rd grade when he gave up the swing so Brit and I could swing together. I don’t forget.” Puck rolled his eyes, resigning himself to whatever Santana had planned.
“Guess there’s no point in fighting you is there?” Santana shook her head, patting Puck’s cheeks.
“It’s best to just bend over and take it. Let it happen.” Puck tried very hard to not let her see that he was a little terrified.
XxXxXxXxXxX
“‘I’m Not a Waitress’ red will be perfect for your nails, Brittany. It’s going to look absolutely fabulous.” Kurt gushed, pulling Brittany’s hand closer. The blonde girl smiled, head cocking.
“And I’m not a waitress, so it makes sense, too... right?” Kurt nodded absently and began painting her nails.
Kurt was feeling a little distracted. All during Glee club the previous day, Santana had been staring at him. At. Him. Santana was kind of seriously terrifying when she felt like it and having her sharp eyes right on him made Kurt increasingly nervous. What if Puck had told her what had happened and now Santana was going to make a very couture mini from his skin. She’d be able to rock it, she did have killer legs and the paleness of his skin really would compliment hers. Plus, it’d be a warning to everyone. Everyone knew Santana was more than a little possessive of Puck. She’d practically ripped out Mercedes’ weave when she’d made a move on the jock. If she knew that they had kissed, she’d slaughter him. Kurt shook his head, focusing harder on fixing a little mess to the side of Brittany’s nail. Stress caused pimples and pimples were just one more thing he didn’t need.
Besides, Kurt thought with a little sigh. I’m sure that kiss meant nothing to Puck. He’s kissed nearly everyone in Lima. Kisses are like hand shakes to him. Kurt tried very hard to ignore how depressed the thought made him.
“Are you okay, Kurt? You’re making unhappy noises.” Kurt raised his eyes to Brittany and gave her a little smile.
“I’m fine, Brit. Just lamenting the fact that I could not rock the red nails as well. Despite their perfect shape.” Brittany smiled and waved her hands in the air to dry them.
“Maybe you could. Santana always says how Cheerios can do anything. Especially when dating a football player. It’s why we dated Mark Lakes.” Kurt laughed softly, filing at his own nails.
“Right. I’ll just go ask Mike to prom. Maybe we’ll even be voted Prom Kings.” Brittany’s eyes widened and she shook her head. Kurt forgot sometimes that sarcasm went right over Brittany’s head.
“No, Kurt. You can’t date Mike. You should date Puck.” Kurt froze, staring up at his friend.
“That... Brittany, that’s a ridiculous suggestion. And one that if I followed, could probably actually get me murdered.” Brittany cocked her head to the side in confusion.
“Why? When Santana and I made a list of hottest guys in school, Puck was number one on the list. And he’s in Glee and he’s on the football team. He dated Mercedes....”
“There is a very distinct difference between Mercedes and myself.”
“I don’t think Puck only dates black girls. Although.... he did say Beyonce had a great ass...” Kurt resisted the urge to groan, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I am a boy. Mercedes is a girl.”
“So?”
“Puck isn’t gay, Brittany. He likes girls with boobs and no penis.” Brittany smiled a little, looking at her fingernails.
“Santana likes guys. A lot. But that doesn’t stop her and me.” Kurt shifted a little uncomfortably.
“That’s.... you guys are different.”
“How do you know? People change their minds sometimes.” Kurt frowned and though back on the brief kiss Puck gave him. Thought about how it wasn’t pushy or too rushed. How it was almost sweet and caring. He signed and rubbed his head. Brittany’s suggestions were never really ever good ones.
“You and Puck would be like... the Power Couple, Kurt. Santana said so.” Kurt’s eyes snapped up to Brittany’s.
“Santana?! You talked to Santana about this? Why?”
“Because we always play the Who Should Date game. Just... think about it, Kurt. He is a great kisser.” Kurt knew he would think about it. Even if he didn’t want to.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Puck was not used to feeling nervous. He was Puckzilla, he had no fear. But when Santana challenged him to ask Kurt to hang out- and just hang out- Puck got a tense feeling in his chest. Puck didn’t ask people out on dates. He walked up to a girl, let loose some pick up line, and she was practically lifting her skirt in the hallways. But Santana told him that would not work on Kurt. Puck had to actually be nice, do things Kurt would want to do, shit like that. But Puck kept picturing Kurt’s brutal rejection. He wasn’t so sure Kurt would let go of all those dumpster tosses and the mean shit Puck put him through. But Santana had threatened to tear off his balls if he didn’t stop acting like a little girl and just ask the guy out. Anyways, he was the Puckster. He was a stud. He could do anything. They had Spanish together next… he’d start his plan of attack there.
Very little shocked Kurt about Noah Puckerman. But when he slipped into Spanish, only a couple minutes late, and sat next to Kurt, he was a little surprised, but tried to ignore it. That is until Puck pushed a piece of paper with messy handwriting his way.
Como se dice “Mr. Schuester’s fly is down” en Espanol? Kurt stared at the paper in shock, contemplating just ignoring it but before he knew it, his pencil was moving.
You actually showed up for more than the last fifteen minutes? Mr. Schue might actually weep for joy.
Hope he doesn’t get too excited. I don’t plan on paying that much attention.
What could you possibly be doing during school if you’re not in class anyways? Hunting down Cheerios? Stealing virtue?
Puckzilla can’t be caged in by the four corners of this shithole school. Obviously. Sometimes I just hang around the choir room with my guitar.
You do realize what a ridiculous nickname “Puckzilla” is, right? At least “Puck” has literary background.
The Puckinator has no idea what you’re talking about... your face is ridiculous, so your argument is invalid.
It’s literally like talking to a six year old when I’m talking to you.
Puckasaurous thinks you’re being just a little dramatic, Hummbelina.
Children give themselves dinosaur nicknames. And don’t call me that.
Why not? I kind of like it. You’re very small and you know, a little girly. So it’s pretty fitting. Me on the other hand... I’m fifty stories worth of terrifyingly delicious muscular dinosaur meat that can breathe fire. Godzilla kinda has a mohawk, too.
Thumbellina was a girl, moron. I am not.
Don’t make me state the obvious. I know you’re a dude, but you’re the girliest dude I know. You know, in the least offensive way possible. We could go with Kurtella instead. Kinda like Nutella, so that would make you chocolatey and delicious on toast?
Can’t I just keep my normal name? I don’t need a dumb nickname.
You absolutely need a dumb nickname. What will you possibly do with out one? Even your black chick friend has one. Aretha, remember? Asian, other asian? I forgot what Sylvester called you. Gay kid? I’d rather just call you Hummbelina.
She calls me Kurt now, since I’m a cheerio. Well... that or Lady Face but I will castrate you if you call me that.
Like you could handle Puckzilla’s might balls of titanium. I’d laugh at your feeble attempt.
Please. You think way too highly of yourself.
My balls are the only thing I’ve got going for me right now, so excuse me if I glorify them a bit. Well, my cock too. Cockzilla.
Super charming. No wonder so many girls let you into their pants. It’s sad. No one believes in romance any more.
If you’re looking to be wooed in this town, you’re delusional. The most romantic thing I’ve seen all month is Brittany’s budding relationship with the janitor.
It's sad, really. Most people's idea of romance is bringing a condom along.
Hey, that is romantic. I mean, it's considerate and all, right? And you're one to talk, you tried the whole... really weird and awkward thing with Brittany.
Ugh, don't remind me. Please. I've been trying to block the memory.
So you actually did make out with her, then? Did you touch her boobs? You didn't fuck her, did you? Because that would... really mess with my head.
Yes, no, and NO! Still... I don't know what I was thinking over the whole thing. Super stupid.
Kind of. But it's whatever, who hasn't tapped that at least once? I'm kind of impressed, Hummel. I wasn't sure if you were capable of talking guy.
May I remind you, yet again, I am in fact a guy. Not a girl with a short hair cut.
This is true. It's not like I don't know you're a dude and all, it's that you talk girl so much sometimes it's hard to imagine you talking guy. I mean come on, you're the one who tried to go over to the girl's team when we split up for mash ups.
That's because I knew none of you would listen to any of my genius ideas. Your loss, really.
I don't know, Kurt... I think you pulled off leather pretty well. You might want to try dressing like a guy more often. I mean... just not in flannel. That was weird.
And disgusting. Besides, almost all of the clothes I wear are boy clothes.
Dude. You wore a corset to school.
I said almost! And it looked awesome. It's not my fault no one here understands couture.
Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Hummel. There's no real point in arguing with you.
You're saying that because you don't know what it is, aren't you.
Yes. But also... you contradict yourself, you know? You say you're proud of who you are, that... being different is the best thing about you, and... I'd deny it to anyone who asks, but... you're right, Hummel. It's what's gonna get you out of this shit town. But then you also want to pretend that you're just another one of the guys... when you're not. You're not one of us, you're not some dumbass guy with a dirty jockstrap in his back pocket who didn't shower this morning because sleep seemed like a better idea. But who cares? You shouldn't care, because you're Kurt Hummel.
Kurt stared at the paper as he walked to his locker. He stared at it in his next class. He stared at it on his way to lunch and nearly forgot to quickly fold the paper and slip it into his pocket before Mercedes could confiscate and question him about it. He hadn’t even told Mercedes about Finn, he wasn’t about to tell her about Puck’s strange behavior.
Finn had stopped sitting with them, had moved over to a table with the jocks who were quick to forget all the shit they put him through. Rachel sent a questioning, searching look in Finn’s direction, and Kurt felt his stomach clench stupidly in guilt. He tried to remind himself that he wasn’t the one to throw around slurs, that he’d tried- in his own way- to make things okay. But when Finn looked up and his eyes only met Kurt’s for a split second before looking away again, Kurt couldn’t explain away the ache in his chest.
He was pulled out of his thoughts when a tray hit the table, the sound of the metal legs of the chair scraping against linoleum before Puck was seated beside Rachel-right across from Kurt.
“Noah!”Rachel squauked, being the first of the gleeks to pull together enough to speak. “What are you doing?” Puck shrugged, popping the tab on his coke and taking a long gulp, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand.
“Eating? Shit, Berry, you gotta problem with that?” Rachel shook her head, eyes still wide.
“No problem. Just wondering why you’re sitting here.” Puck’s eyes flickered to Kurt’s for barely a second before he looked back at Rachel with a smirk and pointed to the bruise by his eye.
“Korofsky and Aizimio are still butt hurt over me kicking their asses. Don’t want me sittin’ over there now. And since everyone else in this school is either terrified of me or thinks I’ve got like...mega sperm that will impregnate them if I’m with in ten feet... you guys are the lucky winners of my company.” He ginned before stealing a french fry from Rachel’s plate. Kurt could practically hearMercedes roll her eyes before her focus was back on him.
“So anyways, I was thinking we should hit up the mall, force those associates to work for their money, stop by a block buster, pick us up some Channing Tatum- that boy is fine for a white boy- and crash at your place. See if Finn will let us have the basement for the night.” Kurt’s eyes widened as he turned away from his limp browning salad.
“N-no! No! We.... we can’t go to my house! We uh... we can’t!” Mercedes raised an eyebrow, frowning a little.
“What? Why not?”
“Because.... because uhm....” He couldn’t tell her it was because he’d torn everything down, that piles of fabric and throws and pillows and lamps now lay around his room. He’d have to tell her everything and Kurt really, really did not want to do that.
“He can’t because he’s helping me work on some shit tonight.” All eyes from the table went to Puck, casually sipping at his coke and shoving food into his mouth, hardly bothering with a napkin. None were more shocked than Kurt.
“I’m sorry, Kurt is helping you with something?” Mercedes questioned, her narrowed eyes flickering between Puck and Kurt. Puck nodded, shrugging.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Aretha. Just needed a little help and Hummel decided to be a cool dude for once. Just chill.” His eyes flickered to Kurt’s once more and he grinned. Mercedes starred at Kurt in shock and he quickly snapped out of the trance he was in.
“Yes. I am helping Puck out with some... school things. In return, he’s teaching me a little more about football besides the horrible color combinations. My dad is simply thrilled. He won tickets to go see the... The Calves.... the... the Ponies.... the...uhm....”
“The Colts?”
“Yes! The Colts! He won tickets to their opening game and I... want to be able to go with him and...you know... follow the game.” Mercedes still looked a little unconvinced so Kurt gave her a smile.
“Don’t worry. You’re on speed dial and I carry pepper spray. I’ll be fine.” Puck snorted, rolling his eyes.
“Please. I’m not gonna hurt Hummel. It’s almost like hitting a girl, you know.” Kurt shot him a little glare before turning back to Mercedes.
“And he’s such a gentleman, too. Really though, I’ll be fine.” Mercedes sighed and shook her head, starting in on her chicken.
“I don’t think it’s the best idea, but whatever. Call me when he turns on you.” Kurt though he saw something flash over Puck’s expression, though he saw Puck’s hands clench against the table, but it was over beofre he could be sure. He let out a little sigh, wishing today would just calm down and stop being weird and let him relax a little. Too much strangeness had happened in the past couple days. Too much in his life and flipped upside down. Puck being nice, Finn avoiding him, Brittany speaking in complete sentences that made sense and had something to do with conversations, while also telling him to go after Noah “Sex Shark” Puckerman.... it was all too much. He passed on eating his salad, rubbing his temples instead. He needed his pajamas, a facemask, and a nap. Pronto.
Puck kicked him under the table and when Kurt sent him a glare, the jock just grinned. With a sigh, Kurt pushed his salad away completely. He knew nothing good could come from playing nice with Noah Puckerman.
A/N: SO THERE YOU GO. Please enjoy!! Please let me know if you did enjoy it! It's nice to hear. :3 I'll get the next installment up asap. Just don't give up on me!