Fic: words we use for you and me part, 4/4 (Glee, Kurt/Puck, NC17)
Title: words we use for you and me
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, Kurt/Puck
Rating: NC17
Summary: AU Based on this prompt. After Kurt transfers to Dalton, his life is perfect. He has friends and a spot in the show choir, and a hot boyfriend who's totally into him, so it's easy to ignore the nagging feeling that something's missing. Then Puck turns up and Kurt's life gets a lot more complicated. 37,600 words.
A/N: This started as a little 1200 word fill on the puckurt Fic Meme. I was just messing around one night between writing projects, really. Then it took hold of my brain and wouldn't let go, and somehow I lost an entire week of my life. Nearly 40,000 words later and here we are. With thanks to duckduck, cinderlily, and jengeorge for the encouragement and the typo policing. Any remaining mistakes are obviously mine.
“How about Kanye?” Puck says, grinning when Kurt rolls his eyes. “Come on, I heard about Schue’s white boy rap cover. It could be a tribute or whatever.”
“I really don’t think a tribute to Mr. Schuester or New Directions is necessary,” Kurt says, “but if it means that much to you, you could always just sing ‘Ohio’.”
If he was worried that Puck was actually considering singing “Gold Digger”, he’d put up more of a fight, but they’re on their way to the audition, so Kurt knows by now that Puck’s had his song picked out for awhile, and he’s spent the entire day teasing Kurt with inappropriate suggestions just to make him laugh.
“Somebody wrote a song about Ohio?” Puck says, in a tone that implies that he’s wondering why, exactly, and Kurt doesn’t have time to explain the entire plot of “Wonderful Town” to Puck right now, even if he thought Puck would care about an admittedly obscure musical.
They’re almost to the choir room, and when they get close enough to hear the chatter of several different conversations floating out into the hall Kurt catches Puck’s hand and stops walking. Puck looks back at him, then he looks down at their hands and raises an eyebrow at Kurt.
“I’m not really thinking about doing Kanye, Kurt. You don’t have to have a panic attack or anything.”
“I know that,” Kurt says, and he feels his cheeks start to burn but he ignores it and takes a step toward Puck. “I told you, whatever you sing, you’ll still be the best one in there.”
Puck grins at him and sways a little closer, just kind of leaning in and looking at Kurt, one eyebrow still cocked as though he’s issuing some kind of challenge. Kurt wants to scream, because if Puck’s going to kiss him, this is pretty much the perfect time. He’s all but writing an invitation here, and Puck’s proven over the past three days that he can certainly take a hint. Besides, Kurt’s never been any good at subtlety, so it should be obvious what he’s offering.
As soon as he thinks the word he feels the color drain from his face, and the butterflies start up again at hurricane force. And he should have realized what Puck’s waiting for, should have known two days ago when he found himself apologizing for comparing Puck to Karofsky that he was always going to have to make the first move.
Maybe the second and the third too, and that thought makes his stomach flip right over, but there’s not going to be a second or third move unless he makes the first one, so he takes a deep breath that does nothing at all to steel his nerves, then he moves into Puck’s personal space and rests a hand on the front of his blazer.
“For luck,” he whispers just before he leans up and presses his lips to Puck’s.
Their first kiss is soft, just a brief press of lips and the gentle pressure of Kurt’s hand on Puck’s chest, just below his heart. He hears a soft ‘oh’ and realizes it’s coming from him, then he pulls back to take in the sight of dark eyes and slightly parted lips, turning up at the corners like Puck wasn’t really expecting that, but he’s happy all the same that Kurt’s on board with moving things forward already.
“I don’t think I’m gonna need any luck,” Puck says, voice kind of rough and when his hand slides into Kurt’s hair to tilt his head back, Kurt’s whole body shudders.
Puck grins at him up close and fuses their mouths together, letting go of Kurt’s hand to grip his waist and tug him even closer. Kurt’s fingers curl around the front of Puck’s jacket and hold on tight while he kisses Puck back, parting his lips to let Puck in and this...this is how he imagined Puck would kiss.
Puck kisses with intent, as though he’s proving a point and he has no intention of stopping until he’s sure his case has been made. He’s breathing hard through his nose, like he’s having trouble keeping his lungs filled but he doesn’t want to stop kissing Kurt even long enough to breathe, and just the thought of Puck wanting him that much -- wanting him and holding back until he’s sure Kurt’s in this with him -- makes Kurt blush all the way to the roots of his hair.
He feels his toes curl -- and God, he didn’t even know that actually happened in real life -- and he wants to drag Puck out of the hall, into the nearest empty room and he doesn’t care where it is or how likely someone is to walk in and see them. All he knows is that he wants more...everything, whatever Puck will give him.
Way too soon Puck’s pulling back, breathing heavy and resting his forehead against Kurt’s for a second. His eyes are closed and he’s still got a hand buried in Kurt’s hair, and all Kurt can think is I love you.
Then a throat clears down the hall and Puck’s eyes open, but he doesn’t let go of Kurt as he looks up to see who it is.
“Guys, get a room or get in here. Auditions are about to start,” one of the other Warblers says, and Kurt blushes and lets go of Puck’s blazer as a few members of the choir walk by. A couple of them are looking anywhere but at him and Puck, but at least one of them is openly snickering at them. He realizes too late that Blaine’s one of the ones looking away, and he swallows the rush of guilt as Puck lets go of him and glances over his shoulder to watch the other boys pass.
Once they’re gone he turns back to Kurt to slide a hand under his chin, tilting his face up and pressing another firm kiss to his lips before he lets go again.
“Guess I better get in there before your ex blacklists me,” Puck says, and Kurt’s sure he’s dreaming now, because there’s no way Noah Puckerman and Blaine are...well, sort of fighting over him.
“He wouldn’t,” Kurt says, but he’s not really sure anymore. “You said he invited you to try out before I did.”
“Yeah, but he was probably hoping I sucked.”
Kurt rolls his eyes at Puck’s grin and lets himself be pulled into the choir room, then he lets go of Puck’s hand and takes a seat with the rest of the choir. He watches Puck cross the room and write his name on the list, right at the bottom, before he takes a seat with the other guys who made it through the first cut.
They were pretty ruthless with the first cuts, so there aren’t nearly as many performances to listen to the second time around. This time Blaine doesn’t call Puck up right away, but he doesn’t make him wait until last, either. And it’s smart, Kurt knows, because if Puck does well again it will be even harder to argue against him if his is the last performance the rest of them hear.
So he calls Puck right in the middle of the group, and when Puck stands up he doesn’t make a speech about some other song he’s written. Instead he just starts singing, that smirk of his firmly in place and his hips swaying a little like he’s hearing the music in his head while he sings.
It takes Kurt a minute to recognize the song, because Puck’s singing it with kind of a weird, almost country beat, and anyway he never would have guessed Puck for a Kylie Minogue fan. But he sounds good, and his version of the song works in a way Kurt never would have expected, and by the time he hits the second chorus of “All the Lovers”, at least half the room is tapping their feet and a few of the guys are even singing along.
When he finishes Puck grins right at Kurt and takes his seat, and Kurt’s heart pounds in his chest like it’s still keeping time with Puck’s song.
“You’ve gotta admit, man, that’s totally what we do,” one of the guys says when Blaine stands up, and Kurt winces when the rest of the room laughs. But it’s true, and even Blaine smiles and nods in Puck’s direction.
“Let’s save the commentary for after the auditions, guys,” he says, but he doesn’t look that upset, and Kurt feels something in his chest uncoil. “We all had to sweat it out, no reason they shouldn’t too.”
The rest of the guys laugh again, then Blaine calls the next boy up to sing, and Kurt turns his attention back to Puck. Puck who’s staring right back at him, leaning forward in his chair with his elbows braced on his knees and that damn tie hanging around his neck, and all Kurt wants to do is cross the room and climb right into his lap.
But there’s the rest of the auditions, then they’ll have to argue about who’s in and probably have another debate about whether or not to save any spaces for any particularly talented freshmen who might turn up in the fall, and by then it’ll be close to curfew and Kurt still hasn’t done any of his homework.
Which means there’s no chance of picking up where they left off in the hall, even if they didn’t both have roommates, and the next time Kurt sees Puck will be tomorrow in a crowded dining room. He sighs and shifts in his chair and tries to pinpoint when, exactly, he went from being annoyed at the very thought of Noah Puckerman to plotting just exactly how soon he can get Puck alone.
~
As it turns out, there are rules about kissing in the halls. Which seems pretty arbitrary, considering it’s an all-boys’ school, and Kurt’s not entirely unconvinced that the guidance counselor hasn’t made them up while he waits for Kurt and Puck to turn up in his office.
They’re sent there by Kurt’s French teacher, the traitor, who Kurt’s ninety-five percent sure is a lesbian, and shouldn’t the gay community stick together? But he doesn’t point it out, because there’s that other five percent to consider, and if he accuses Madame Moreau of being gay and he’s wrong, there’s a chance it will reflect badly on his grade for the year.
Kurt’s never heard of the alleged rules until they get sent to the guidance counselor, but Blaine never kissed him the way Puck was kissing him right before they split up for their language classes, either, like he was trying to see just how many of Kurt’s brain cells he could blow in the space of two minutes.
He’s never considered that maybe there’s a reason why Blaine never tried to kiss him like that until he hears about the rules, mostly because Kurt never really wanted Blaine to kiss him the way he wants Puck to kiss him.
“This is discrimination,” Kurt says when the guidance counselor finishes lecturing them on propriety and ‘conducting themselves like gentlemen’. “If one of us was a girl no one would have blinked.”
“The rules apply to everyone, even visitors,” the guidance counselor says, and Kurt narrows his eyes and takes back every favorable comparison he ever made between the man and Ms. Pillsbury.
Puck doesn’t say a word through the entire lecture, just sits there and stares down at his hands and for all Kurt knows he’s practicing some kind of meditation technique his therapist taught him. It’s...sort of impressive, not that Kurt has any intention of telling him so, because it’s great that Puck’s getting a handle on his adolescent rage and all, but he could use a little back-up here.
Class is almost over by the time they’re dismissed, and the guidance counselor sends them to lunch a little early with a disturbingly cheerful wave and a promise that the school respects their right to date anyone they like, as long as they respect the rules.
“Thank you so much for the input back there, by the way,” Kurt says when they’re finally clear of the administrative offices, but he can tell Puck’s not listening, because he just blinks and says, “Do you think that counted as an official warning?”
“Warning about what? Keeping our adolescent hormones in check?” Kurt asks, and he’s still too busy being outraged to blush at the mention of his hormones.
“No, seriously, this place has a three strikes policy and they’re pretty hardcore about it. If you get tossed out of here you just go back to Lima, but if I get thrown out it’s back to Juvie.”
Kurt’s heart clenches at the look on Puck’s face, and he reaches out and catches Puck’s hand, gripping just this side of too hard and he’s not even sure what he’s trying to say, but he hopes Puck understands anyway. It’s easy for him to forget that Puck’s on his last chance, that if it wasn’t for Schue buying him another chance he’d already be back in Juvie. Unfairly, yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that technically he should be there already, and Kurt’s certainly not going to be the one to get him sent back.
“They can hardly count it as official if we didn’t know we were breaking one of their stupid rules.”
“I knew,” Puck says, glancing over at Kurt, and now he just looks surprised. “It’s in the handbook. We’re all supposed to read that thing. It’s one of the first things my therapist went over, something about knowing the boundaries so I could learn to operate within them or whatever.”
Kurt’s sure he got a handbook at some point, but he has no idea what he did with it. He knows he didn’t read it, at least not that he can recall. But when he started he already had Blaine to show him the ropes, and Kurt’s ashamed to realize that instead of learning anything on his own he just followed Blaine around like some kind of puppy until Puck came along to distract him.
“So what other rules should I know about?”
“No tongue in the hallway,” Puck says, and Kurt nods without comment because that one he’s already got down. “No hands below the waist in public, uniforms stay on in the building. No hickeys period. It’s a little more chill if we’re outside; we won’t get busted for making out or ditching the blazers or anything, but we’re still supposed to keep our hands above the clothes. Technically there’s a campus-wide no sex rule.”
Kurt’s cheeks are burning just from picturing the things he’s not supposed to do with Puck, but when he gets to that last part Kurt goes from turned on straight back to indignant.
“Someone might have told me I’d joined a convent.”
“Tell me about it,” Puck says, but he’s smiling like he doesn’t really mind that much, and Kurt’s struck all over again at how strange it is to be the one in this relationship pushing for more. “I mean, I knew I should put the brakes on when you kissed me before, but it’s not like I was thinking all that clear at the time. I might be working on controlling my temper or whatever, but I’ve still got needs, you know?”
His voice drops almost a full octave when he says it, and Kurt swallows hard and lets his gaze wander down the center of Puck’s chest. But they’re still in the hallway, and any minute now class is going to let out and if they get caught making out again after they just got in trouble for the very same thing, it probably will be official.
“I did not kiss you first.”
“Yeah, you did,” Puck says, grinning like it’s a mark of personal pride somehow, and it’s possible, Kurt concedes privately, but it’s not like he’d remember who kissed who first, what with the whole brain cell blowing thing.
Puck’s hands land on Kurt -- just above the waist, in keeping with the rules, Kurt notes distantly -- and he leans in, brushing their lips together and that’s so not fair, because Kurt still wants to say to hell with the rules, but he doesn’t want Puck getting sent back to prison just for making out.
“Noah,” he says, murmuring Puck’s name against his mouth and the noise Puck makes when he says it sends a jolt of want straight to the pit of Kurt’s stomach.
Technically they’re not breaking any rules, because there’s no tongue and everyone’s hands are where they’re supposed to be, but Kurt’s pulse is rushing against his eardrums and he can feel Puck’s heart beating fast and he knows how quickly this could turn into something they can’t stop.
“The lacrosse team has a meet way the hell out near Akron on Saturday,” Puck says, breathing heavy even though they aren’t really doing anything, and it’s hot in a way Kurt doesn’t expect. “They’ll be gone all day.”
Kurt wonders for a second if maybe Puck’s blown a few brain cells of his own, because he’s not sure what the lacrosse team’s schedule has to do with anything, but when he pulls back to ask what Puck’s talking about, his stomach clenches hard at the look on Puck’s face.
“My roommate plays lacrosse.”
Oh, Kurt thinks, feels the pull of desire in his groin and runs his thumb along Puck’s bottom lip. Then he leans up and kisses him again, careful to keep his hands above the waist and his tongue in his own mouth.
“I’ve always been a staunch supporter of school athletics,” he says, and when Puck laughs Kurt feels it rumble against his chest and starts mentally calculating the hours between now and Saturday.
~
The list of new Warblers goes up after dinner, but Puck already knows he’s on it, so it doesn’t matter that he’s with his therapist when it’s posted. Kurt waits for him after dinner, taking advantage of the longer days and the warmer spring evenings to sit outside on the stone steps and read the assigned chapter in their European History book while he waits for Puck to cross the quad and sit down beside him.
He’s trying to focus on the chapter, because he can’t afford to fall behind in any of his classes, no matter how complicated his social life has become lately, but his mind keeps wandering to the feel of Puck’s hand on his waist and the look in his eyes when he said my roommate plays lacrosse.
And Kurt’s not a child, so he knows what happens on Saturday. He wants it to happen in a way he’s never wanted anything before, and he doesn’t even find it strange anymore that the person he wants it to happen with is Noah Puckerman.
But that’s just the thing, because Noah’s changed a lot in the last few months, but he’s still Puck, still has all Puck’s vast experience to compare Kurt to, and Kurt…doesn’t. All Kurt has is a good imagination and a reliable internet connection, and there’s only so much that can be learned by asking Google.
He and Blaine never made it past kissing, which is mostly Kurt’s fault, and even though there’s a part of him that wishes he had a little experience, at least so he won’t completely humiliate himself, the rest of him is sort of glad he’s going to be with Puck the first time.
Puck makes him feel safe, and that’s something he never thought he’d be able to say, but there it is, all the same. Puck makes him feel in a way he’s never felt with anyone, not through pointless schoolboy crushes on Finn and Sam, and not during his affectionate but mostly platonic relationship with Blaine.
He looks up and spots Puck walking toward him, heart skipping a beat and that’s another feeling he’s starting to get used to. When Puck reaches him he smiles and sits down on the steps next to Kurt, leans in and curves his hand around the back of Kurt’s neck to draw him in for a kiss.
And they’re outside, so Puck can kiss him however he wants, but he opts for slow and almost chaste, lips barely parted and eyes closed and just…lingering, like he’s trying to make this moment last as long as he can. Kurt’s hand lands on his knee, just because he can, and he smiles against Puck’s mouth and lets his fingers trail up Puck’s inseam.
“Hi,” Kurt says when Puck pulls back to look at him, and he’s aware that his smile’s probably sort of dreamy and ridiculous, but when Puck just smiles back at him he decides it doesn’t matter.
“Hi,” Puck says, then he reaches down to catch the hand that’s still resting on his thigh and pulls it back into neutral territory. “So did I make the cut?”
“You know you did,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes but he’s still smiling, so it sort of ruins the effect. “The Kylie song was pretty inspired. Where’d you come up with that one, anyway?”
“Who’s Kylie?” Puck asks, and his frown probably matches Kurt’s.
“Kylie Minogue. She’s a singer? Club music, mostly, which admittedly doesn’t strike me as your style, so I thought maybe you’d gotten some help on your song choice from Santana or someone.”
“I haven’t talked to anybody from home except Finn and my family since I left,” Puck says. He shrugs when Kurt frowns again, thumb moving across Kurt’s knuckles and it’s distracting in a really nice way. “Figured it was easier to keep Hudson’s secret if I didn’t have to answer a lot of dumb questions, you know?”
It makes sense when he puts it that way, and it’s not like Kurt’s going to complain about Puck leaving Santana and Quinn in his past, but it still seems a little sad that he could just walk away from his entire life like that. Then again, Kurt walked away from his life too, and somehow they still ended up right next to each other.
“So where’d you hear about that song?”
“It’s the Scissor Sisters. They did this totally righteous version of it on some radio show in England or something. Somebody posted a video on Youtube.”
And he should have known, really, because there’s no way Puck’s heard of Kylie. But somehow he still picked the perfect song to get him into show choir, and next year they’ll not only get to spend rehearsals together, but they’ll get to travel to competitions and maybe share a hotel room, at least when they have to stay overnight at Regionals.
Kurt’s stomach trembles at the thought of Puck and a big hotel bed all to himself for an entire night, and he’s grateful the sun’s finally starting to go down so Puck won’t see him blushing for the millionth time this week.
How was therapy?” Kurt asks, just to get his mind off Puck and hotel beds.
“Okay. My shrink says you’re good for me.”
“Oh?” Kurt says, and he knows he sounds surprised, but it’s not so much because Puck’s doctor approves as it is because Puck talks about him.
He knows Puck takes his sessions seriously, and Kurt’s glad, because he seems to be getting plenty out of them, whether he needed them from the start or not. So it’s kind of nice to know that Puck considers him important enough to mention to his doctor, and the fact that she knows enough about them to have an opinion one way or the other means he’s probably been talking about Kurt for awhile.
“Yeah,” Puck says, grinning at Kurt and maybe the sky isn’t quite dark enough to cover his blush after all. “She says I focus better when I’m not distracted thinking about you with some other guy. It was kind of distracting, so I guess she’s got a point.”
It’s still completely weird to be on this side of the equation; back at McKinley Puck had his pick of girls, and there’s no way he ever would have given Kurt a second thought. But here they make sense, so much so that even Puck’s therapist thinks they’re good together. Kurt smiles and squeezes Puck’s hand, then he stands up and pulls Puck to his feet.
“Come on, it’s getting dark out here. Let’s go up to the study lounge and I’ll help you with Geometry.”
Puck stands up, but he holds tight to Kurt’s hand when he tries to walk away, then he slides an arm around Kurt’s waist and pulls him close.
“In a minute,” Puck whispers, the words warm against Kurt’s lips as Puck leans in for another kiss. This one’s harder than the first, wet and hot and open, and when Puck hooks his arms around Kurt and pulls him flush against Puck’s body he moans into Puck’s mouth and fists his hands in the front of Puck’s blazer.
Puck’s hand leaves his waist to slide lower, across his ass and spreading his fingers wide and wow, Puck has really big hands. Kurt gasps into his mouth and lets Puck pull him forward, his erection pressed against Puck’s and when Kurt grinds against him Puck groans and pulls back.
“Jesus, Kurt,” Puck says, but his breath hitches and his hand’s pushing through Kurt’s hair, just sort of...petting him while they breathe the same air and try to pull it together.
“Geometry,” Kurt says, mainly to try to re-focus his brain. Or try to focus it at all, which he’s pretty sure is impossible at this point.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be learning a whole lot tonight,” Puck says, letting out a shaky laugh, and boy, does Kurt ever know the feeling.
~
They don’t talk about what happens when Puck’s roommate leaves town with the entire lacrosse team in tow, inadvertently gifting Kurt with the opportunity to get Puck alone that he’s been both longing for and terrified of since this whole thing started. They don’t talk about it on Thursday night when they’re sitting side by side in the study lounge, shoulders pressed together and Kurt’s fingers skimming the back of Puck’s hand while he tries to explain Geometric concepts that don’t currently make any sense to either of them.
They don’t discuss it on Friday either, but Puck’s right there next to him all day, looking as hopelessly rumpled and confident as usual, but sort of vibrating next to Kurt like he’s anticipating something. Kurt tells himself it’s just the adrenaline from the baseball tryouts he knows Puck’s been looking forward to all week; he hasn’t gotten a chance to participate in that kind of organized violence in awhile, so naturally he’d look forward to it.
Except that Puck keeps touching him, whether it’s a hand around his in the hallway, or a hand on his back to steer him through the dining room, or Puck’s thumb tracing the line of his jaw when he leans over the fence at the baseball field, kissing Kurt softly and murmuring, “for luck.” Kurt blushes and tries not to smile when Puck laughs at him, then he sits in the stands and voluntarily watches a live sporting event he’s neither cheering for nor participating in, and wonders what his father would say if he could see Kurt right now.
He doesn’t know what his father thinks of Puck. He’s Finn’s best friend, though, which should count for something. He’s not sure how Finn will feel, but if what he says is true and Puck does talk about Kurt, then maybe he already knows.
Kurt watches Puck swing at a perfect pitch, then he watches Puck lazily jog around the bases as the ball keeps soaring way out past the field, into the tall grass that Kurt assumes means he knocked it out of the park. Not that he ever had any doubt that Puck would make the team; he played for McKinley, after all, and Kurt always assumed it was just because he had to do something with all that testosterone after football season was over, but it turns out he’s pretty good.
It doesn’t hurt that he looks really good in the uniform.
After tryouts Kurt hangs around while the coach talks to them, then he waits while Puck heads to the locker rooms to change with the rest of the guys. He sits in the bleachers and tries not to picture Puck changing in a locker room full of other athletic young men and flips his phone open and closed while he debates whether or not to send the text he’s been considering for a few days now.
As soon as he does there’s no taking it back. No pretending it never happened and going back to life before ‘Kurt and Noah’. That’s how most of the guys are already referring to them, in the same breath as though they just...go together. So if it doesn’t work out there will be enough public humiliation to suffer at Dalton, and he’s been telling himself all week that he doesn’t need to set himself up for that in Lima as well.
Right now his father and Carole know, he’s fairly sure, at least if his dad caught any of the hints Kurt dropped the last time they spoke. And he hasn’t asked, but Puck keeps up a regular e-mail conversation with Finn which apparently started as more or less a progress report on Kurt, so he’s guessing Finn knows. Which means Kurt’s entire family knows about his relationship, and it’s possible some of Puck’s family knows, but that’s as far as the news has spread back home.
If he tells Mercedes and swears her to secrecy she might actually keep his secret. He’s not sure; they all try to keep each other’s confidences, but there are some secrets that are just too good not to tell, and when there’s a willing audience of 500 other gossip-prone teenagers around, people are bound to talk.
Then there’s Puck to consider. It’s possible he doesn’t want other people to know, that he wants to keep his life here at Dalton separate from whatever he was back in Lima. It’s not that Kurt thinks he’s some kind of bi-curious experiment on Puck’s part. He considered the possibility, at first, but Puck’s made it fairly clear that this is what he wants and he doesn’t have any qualms about the fact that Kurt happens to also be a guy. He’s fine with all the boys at Dalton knowing, including the ones on the baseball team, apparently, considering he just kissed his boyfriend in front of them.
His boyfriend. It’s silly and juvenile and Kurt’s well aware, because he’s had a boyfriend practically every minute since he got to Dalton, but it wasn’t until this week that the thought has made the butterflies in his stomach take flight.
“What’s the matter?”
Kurt blinks at the sound of Puck’s voice and looks up from his phone, taking in Puck’s frown and his guarded expression and shaking his head. “Nothing. I was just wondering...do you mind if I mention to Mercedes that we’re seeing each other?”
Puck doesn’t lose the frown, but the guarded expression clears in favor of that cute, puzzled one he gets when he doesn’t quite grasp a Geometry concept.
“Why would I? I told Hudson you finally stopped holding out on me a couple days ago. Come to think of it, he’s probably told Berry already, because you know he can’t keep a secret from her worth a damn, and she’s got the biggest fucking mouth in Lima, so Aretha probably already knows.”
It’s surprisingly sound logic, Kurt has to admit. He smiles and lets Puck pull him to his feet, then Puck slides an arm around his shoulders and pulls him back toward the school. “Believe me, if Mercedes had heard already, I’d know.”
Puck laughs but doesn’t answer, so Kurt flips his phone back open and starts a new text. Only he’s not sure of the best way to say it; he could just come right out and say, Noah and I are an item now, only she’d probably have to ask who Noah is, and that would require more explanation than he can fit in 160 characters.
Puck and I are an item now.
That’s perfectly clear, and it might not even surprise her all that much, given the conversation she witnessed the last time he was home. It’s clear, but it doesn’t even come close to saying what’s really happening. He could type, Somehow I fell in love with Noah Puckerman. I keep expecting to wake up from a truly amazing dream, but that doesn’t get the point across that he thinks Puck might kind of love him back, a little.
He’s not bold enough to type Puck and I are in love, not with Puck looking over his shoulder. The cursor’s still blinking at the end of Puck and I, waiting for him to commit to a message and press send and this shouldn’t be so hard.
Before he makes up his mind Puck makes an impatient noise and pulls his arm off Kurt’s shoulders, then he tugs Kurt’s phone out of his hand and stops walking, fingers flying over the tiny keyboard and before Kurt even gets a look at whatever he’s typing, Puck hits send.
“Hey,” Kurt protests, but Puck just rolls his eyes and hands the phone back.
“Whatever, Princess, you’d be standing out here staring at that screen all night if I didn’t do something. I’m gonna go drop my gear in my room and grab my stuff. I’ll meet you in the study lounge in twenty.”
Then he’s gone, before Kurt can even protest that it’s Friday night, and technically they have all weekend to study. Except they’ve got plans for Saturday, and Kurt blushes and flips the phone open to scroll down to his sent messages. He hesitates for a second before he opens the most recent one, wincing at Puck’s appalling affinity for text speak, but he has to admit Puck knows how to get the point across.
hey retha u dont hav 2 worry bout yr boy i got it covrd. thnk i kinda luv him. peace
His heart’s still pounding hard when his phone beeps, then the message he’s been staring at disappears and Kurt hits ‘okay’ to read the incoming text.
Did Puck just txt me from yr phone and say he loves you????
He’s only got twenty minutes before he’s supposed to meet Puck, and that’s not nearly enough time to have this conversation, but at least the fact that he’s having it means he didn’t hallucinate Puck’s text after all. Kurt smiles and hits reply, then he starts typing.
Yes, and the craziest part is, I love him too.
~
Saturdays at Dalton Prep aren’t that much different than any other day. They don’t have to attend classes, of course, but they have so much homework over the weekends that any alleged free time they have is eaten up by whatever projects they haven’t gotten done during the week. Then there are club meetings and group projects, regular meal times to work around and by the time they get to Sunday evening, no one feels all that much like they’ve had a weekend at all.
The dress code is a little more relaxed on the weekend, but if they’re not playing a sport or outside tossing a football around or something, they’re expected to be in their shirtsleeves and uniform pants, at the very least. So they get to ditch the tie and the blazer, if they want, which isn’t much of a break from the monotony of the uniform, in Kurt’s opinion.
Seniors who keep cars on campus can head into town in civilian clothes to spend the day hanging around in the tiny, picturesque village down the road that’s popular with tourists and Dalton moms. They’re expected to conduct themselves ‘in a manner befitting their status as Dalton Men’, which means even if Kurt and Puck were allowed into town, they’re technically not allowed to sit in the back row of the movie theater and ignore the movie while they spend two hours just making out.
Still, it’s a fairly safe rule to break, considering the stories Kurt’s heard about some of the seniors who have girlfriends near enough to meet them in town on the weekend. Something to look forward to when they’re seniors and he’s got the Navigator on campus, at any rate.
He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he hears Puck say, “What?” across the table. Kurt looks up from his coffee and blushes, which just ups the wattage on Puck’s grin even further, and Kurt knows what Puck thinks he’s smiling about.
“I was thinking about next year,” Kurt says, and it’s perfectly true, even if Puck’s a little bit right about what, exactly, he was thinking about next year. “You know, we can have cars on campus when we’re seniors. I was just thinking if I had the Navigator here, we could go home more often. Or whatever.”
“I can get behind ‘whatever’.”
The way Puck’s looking at him sends a thrill of anticipation straight to Kurt’s dick, but what makes his heart race is the fact that Puck didn’t even blink at the fact that Kurt just assumes they’ll still be together next year. And okay, Puck’s already said he loves Kurt -- sort of, anyway -- so Kurt knows this isn’t like his other relationships. If one can even call them relationships, which Kurt really can’t, not when he’s heard Santana herself announce more than once that having sex with Puck doesn’t mean they’re dating.
So unless he counts Quinn -- and really, they can hardly count that as a relationship -- this is the first time Puck’s ever dated someone. Granted, it’s been less than a week, but Puck said himself that he’s wanted this for a lot longer than just a week, so Kurt’s pretty sure that means he’s planning to stick around.
Still. It’s kind of nice to have independent confirmation, and Kurt’s not too proud to admit it, at least to himself.
“You ready to get out of here?” Puck asks, and when Kurt looks up at him again the butterflies in his stomach stage a revolt the likes of which he’s never felt before. Kurt nods because he doesn’t trust his voice not to betray him, then he stands up and doesn’t even think about picking up his tray before he follows Puck out of the dining room.
Puck reaches for his hand, and when Kurt looks up Puck’s watching him with dark, dark eyes and an expression that Kurt would have described as ‘scary’ once, but now he knows that it just means Puck knows exactly what he wants, and he’s waiting for the signal that tells him it’s his for the taking.
Kurt’s seen Puck’s room before, and even if he hadn’t, it doesn’t look any different from the rest of their rooms. Two single beds pushed against either wall, a long desk at the back split into two sections and lined with textbooks and CDs and copies of Sports Illustrated. There’s a window above the desk that looks out over the woods that stretch out beyond the school, and it’s a different view than Kurt has from his own window, which is the most distinguishing thing about it.
Puck’s guitar is leaning against the wall by the head of his bed, and when Kurt follows him inside and closes the door Puck passes by the bed and picks up the guitar. “You still want to hear that song?”
“Yes,” Kurt says, and it’s true, but it’s not why they’re here, and he’s not sure whether to be annoyed at the stalling tactic or grateful for the reprieve. He sits in the chair at Puck’s desk anyway, perching on the edge and watching while Puck clears his throat and sits down on the side of his bed.
Puck strums a few chords, listening to each one before he decides that the guitar’s tuned well enough and starts playing. And he’s right; the song sounds better with a guitar behind it. The lyrics are still nonsensical and absolutely, one hundred percent Puck, and somehow the guitar makes them even more so. Kurt thinks vaguely that it has something to do with the sort of frenetic beat, but it’s hard to think at all when Puck’s staring at him like he’s trying to tell Kurt something.
He’s not vain enough to assume Puck wrote that song for him or anything. But it’s hard not to believe it when Puck’s watching him and singing you know I dreamed about you for eighteen years before I saw you, and when Puck closes his eyes and sings I missed you for eighteen years, Kurt has to swallow hard around the lump in his throat.
And he’s not actually a girl, despite certain closed-minded opinions to the contrary back home, so he’s not going to cry. But he sort of wants to, because he knows how that feels, and it’s been less than a week, so there’s no guarantee he’ll get to keep this feeling. It turns out Puck knows the feeling too, though, and that’s a pretty good start.
When Puck’s done he doesn’t set the guitar down; he doesn’t look up either, just keeps strumming chords and kind of humming under his breath. Like he’s nervous. Like he’s waiting for Kurt’s reaction and it matters or something.
“You were right,” Kurt says, voice shaking a little and he’s sure Puck can hear it too. “It sounds even better with a guitar behind it.”
One side of Puck’s mouth lifts in a smile, and he strums another chord before he looks up at Kurt. “Yeah, the whole a cappella thing is cool or whatever, but I can’t see giving up the guitar for good.”
“How long have you been writing music, anyway?”
“Not long,” Puck answers, then he looks down at the strings again and shifts his fingers into what Kurt can see is a tricky chord. “Me and Hudson used to mess around, back before football kinda took over, but it was mostly shitty heavy metal and a lot of it we probably ripped off from real bands anyway. This is the first one I ever wrote for real. I’m working on something new, but so far all I’ve got is the bridge and a few lyrics.”
“Can I hear it?”
“Nothing to hear yet, babe,” Puck says, then he grins and Kurt feels his temperature creep up a few degrees. Puck sets the guitar back down on the floor and Kurt knows that this is it, that they’ve reached that ‘second move’ he’s going to have to make if he wants to do anything today other than listen to Puck strum chords on his guitar and reminisce about his youthful rock band dreams.
Kurt stands up and crosses the few feet of space to the bed, and when Puck straightens up again Kurt’s standing right in front of him. He looks a little surprised, but he reaches up to grip Kurt’s hips - below the waist, and thank God for that, Kurt thinks -- and slides his tongue along his bottom lip, like maybe he’s waiting for something.
Waiting for Kurt, and just the thought is as terrifying as it is really, really hot. Kurt takes a deep breath and rests his hands on either side of Puck’s face, fingers catching a little on the stubble on his chin as Kurt leans forward and kisses him.
He’s kissed Puck enough times by now to know what it feels like, the way it makes his skin feel tight and electric, like his whole body’s vibrating with the need for more. But this is the first time he’s ever kissed Puck behind closed doors, where they both know that it’s not going to stop at just a kiss. At least it’s not if Kurt has anything to say about it, and anyone who’s ever met him knows he usually has plenty to say.
Kurt laughs at the thought and kisses Puck again, slower this time, because they’ve got...well, not all the time in the world, certainly, and not even enough time for everything Kurt wants from Puck, but they’ve got time, and that’s more of a luxury than Kurt expected.
Puck’s hands leave his hips and slide down, over the swell of his ass to grip the backs of his thighs. Kurt makes a muffled, embarrassing noise against Puck’s mouth and runs his hands over Puck’s scalp, fingers digging into his stupid mohawk and when Puck sort of purrs low in his throat and tightens his grip on Kurt’s legs, Kurt does it again.
They’re still wearing all their clothes, and that’s no good, so Kurt reaches for the buttons on Puck’s shirt, tugging them open one by one and it’s a good thing he’s so well-versed in fashion, because it’s not that easy to unbutton someone else’s shirt with his eyes closed.
“Kurt,” Puck murmurs, right up against his mouth, then he pulls back a little and Kurt opens his eyes to blink down at him.
Kurt makes a vague humming noise and opens another button, but he’s reaching the point where he’s going to have to change positions to get Puck’s shirt open all the way, and he’s not sure he’s ready to give up the fingers tracing the crease of his thighs right along the bottom of his ass.
“Kurt,” Puck says again, louder this time and Kurt blinks and looks at him. Puck’s pupils are blown and Kurt can see clearly exactly how into this he is when he glances down at Puck’s lap, so he’s not sure what the problem is. He’s sure it’s nothing that can’t be surmounted with a little well-placed distraction, though, so he shoves at Puck’s shoulders until he moves back on the bed, then Kurt kneels on the mattress and swings one leg over Puck’s thighs.
“Yes?” Kurt says, and at least he can reach more buttons while he’s more or less straddling Puck’s lap, so he gets back to business. And Puck could help here, but Kurt’s pretty sure this is that third move he’s been expecting to have to make, so he’s mostly okay with it.
“Look, I know I gave you a lot of shit about not putting out for Blaine and all, but I was just being an asshole because I was jealous. I mean, it was either that or beat the shit out of the dude, and I don’t do that anymore. Not unless somebody deserves it, anyway.”
He’s talking a lot, but Kurt’s not sure why, exactly. He already knows all of this, and it’s kind of a weird time to play true confessions anyway. So Kurt unfastens the last button on Puck’s shirt, then he pushes the shirt open and reaches for the button at the top of Puck’s pants.
A hand closes over his and he looks up, watching Puck’s face while he takes a deep breath, then another one. “I’m trying to say you don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready or whatever.”
It’s sweet, Kurt supposes, and it’s clearly a pretty big sacrifice for Puck, because he’s fighting his breath and his voice sounds sort of funny, like he can’t quite remember how to work it. So Kurt shifts until their dicks are lined up, gasping and closing his eyes for a second while he bites down hard on his lip. When he regains control and opens his eyes again Puck’s still watching, but he’s not trying to talk Kurt out of this anymore.
“This is something you’re not going to hear very often in our relationship, so I want you to enjoy it,” Kurt says, then he shifts a little more and Puck groans and grips his thigh hard enough for Kurt to feel it. “You were right, Noah. About Blaine; about everything. I know what I want now. I love you. Now shut up.”
He’s not sure where he finds the courage to say all that, and by the end of his speech he’s blushing so furiously he’s sure he’s going to burst into flames, and wouldn’t Santana love the number of gay jokes she’d get out of that untimely demise. Kurt starts to laugh, but the sound comes out as a choked sort of ‘oh’ when Puck surges up and kisses him hard.
And that’s a little more like it, Kurt thinks as Puck’s hand clamps down hard on his hip to rock Kurt against him, grunting at each brush of Kurt’s erection against his own. It’s good, but they’re still wearing an awful lot of clothes, and even when Puck lets go long enough to ditch his shirt, his chest is still mostly covered by his undershirt.
Kurt lets out a frustrated whine and tugs Puck’s undershirt out of his pants, hands sliding across the taut skin stretched across his stomach and when he feels Puck tremble under his touch he gasps against Puck’s mouth. Because Kurt’s the one who should be kind of nervous here; he’s the one with no basis for comparison, and Puck’s the one with a whole host of notches in his proverbial bedpost.
But he’s been so careful with Kurt, like maybe he’s afraid to break him or something. At first Kurt just assumed Puck was out of his element once he found himself having feelings for another boy, but now he’s starting to think it’s because of Finn. It’s a weird thought to have while Puck’s rocking up against him and fucking Kurt’s mouth with his tongue -- and that is so against the rules -- but that doesn’t make it any less true.
Puck made a promise to Finn to look out for Kurt, and the falling in love part wasn’t in the original plan, but he’s still being careful out of some weird sense of loyalty to Kurt’s stepbrother. He’s trying not to hurt Kurt, and when he’s not just taking what he wants without worrying about who gets hurt along the way, he’s not really sure what to do.
The realization doesn’t make Kurt that much more confident about what he’s doing, and when he finally gets Puck out of his undershirt and he’s faced with a broad expanse of perfect skin, Kurt’s own stomach trembles. But it’s a weird sort of power trip too, because Puck’s rocking against him and pushing his hands up under Kurt’s clothes like he doesn’t have the patience to take them off the right way, and it’s all because of how much he wants Kurt.
Later Kurt won’t be able to say how they got out of the rest of their clothes, but that’s Puck’s area of expertise, so Kurt assumes he finally got with the program and helped out a little. All he knows is that one minute he’s tugging open enough buttons at his neck to pull his shirt right over his head, undershirt and all, and the next he’s flat on his back and their pants are gone and Puck’s kissing him like he’s making up for lost time.
Kurt’s hands are moving of their own accord, touching every inch of that perfect skin he can reach, kneading at Puck’s shoulders and sliding down his back to drag his fingernails back up either side of Puck’s spine. Puck’s thrusting against him, hips moving in an infuriatingly slow rhythm and Kurt pants against his mouth and digs his fingers in a little harder, hoping that Puck will get the message and pick up the pace a little.
His mouth leaves Kurt’s and then Puck’s looking down at him, grinning and grinding down until Kurt moans and slides a leg around Puck’s waist.
“Pushy,” Puck says, then he leans in again and presses a kiss to the side of Kurt’s neck. “I like it.”
Kurt thinks tease, but what he says is Noah, dragging the word out until it sounds raw and painful and dirty. Puck bucks a little harder against him and mouths his way along Kurt’s neck, using his tongue and sometimes his teeth to explore every inch of Kurt’s skin. When he hits a particularly sensitive spot he opens his mouth and sucks, and Kurt arches up into him and grips his shoulders hard.
He’s making needy little noises in the back of his throat, and he doesn’t even care that Puck’s going to leave a mark. He’ll take the punishment, whatever it is, for breaking the no hickey rule, and there’s no way they can prove Puck’s the one who gave it to him.
But Puck remembers the rule as soon as Kurt does, and he lets out a growl and pulls his mouth away from the side of Kurt’s neck. His hand slides under the thigh that’s wrapped around his waist, pulling Kurt’s leg up and pulling him open at the same time, settling a little further against him and matching the rhythm of Kurt’s hips.
Puck pushes up onto his hands to look at Kurt, elbows locked to hold him up and his pupils are blown so wide his eyes look black. Kurt arches up into him and digs his fingers into Puck’s arms, grasping for just a little more, just enough to pull them both over the edge. And Puck’s just watching, moving in time with Kurt but not giving him any more than he’s taking. It’s maddening, because Kurt doesn’t know what to ask for and even if he did he wouldn’t be able to say the words.
Puck’s waiting for him to ask; that much he’s sure of, and he doesn’t know anymore if it’s still because Puck’s scared to push too hard, or if he just likes making Kurt show him how much he wants Puck. Like he needs more proof of that. Like it was ever in question, even when Kurt was dating someone else and pretending he didn’t even like Puck. Which, okay, there was a time he wasn’t particularly fond of Puck, but even then he couldn't deny that Puck’s attractive.
He’s gorgeous, from the well-defined muscles to the perfect smile to the way he looks at Kurt, equal parts smoldering and vulnerable, open in a way Kurt’s never seen before. So it turns out love looks pretty good on him, which is no surprise, considering everything looks good on Puck.
Kurt presses up off the bed and kisses him again, tongue pushing past Puck’s teeth as he slides a hand between them and wraps his fingers around Puck’s cock. And yes, he’s heard the stories, most of which can’t be true just based on the laws of physics, but Kurt knows full well that most myths have a basis in fact, so he’s not surprised at all to discover that Noah Puckerman does, in fact, have quite a bit to offer.
He imagines wrapping his lips around Puck, wonders how far he could take Puck in before he chokes and has to resort to his hand, working Puck’s length the way he’s doing now while he uses his tongue and his mouth on the head of Puck’s dick. Not that he’s getting any complaints about his hand so far; Puck’s moaning into his mouth and thrusting into Kurt’s grip, and he’s sucking on Kurt’s tongue in a way that should be kind of gross, but mostly just makes Kurt want more and more and more.
Puck’s arms are still locked on either side of him, so Kurt feels it when they start to shake. He lets go of Puck and pushes on his chest until Puck slides onto the mattress next to him, pulling Kurt close and pressing their mouths together to murmur words Kurt can’t quite catch as Kurt reaches for him again.
Then Puck pulls his mouth away from Kurt’s long enough to lick his own palm, eyes locked on Kurt’s the entire time. Kurt watches the drag of Puck’s tongue along his own skin, imagines Puck’s mouth wrapped around him and tightens his grip. Puck groans and reaches between them to pull Kurt’s hand away, then he lines them up again and wraps his hand around both of them.
Kurt gasps and thrusts into Puck’s grip, earning himself a laugh that rumbles through Puck’s chest and sends heat all the way from the tips of Kurt’s ears down to his toes. He closes his own hand over Puck’s and matches his rhythm, using his thumb to spread drops of wet heat with each upstroke.
Puck’s talking again, forehead pressed against Kurt’s shoulder and mouthing words against his skin. It’s nonsense, mostly, but Kurt thinks he hears his own name a time or two, and it makes his heart pound even harder in his chest. He’s still fisting them both hard, hips moving faster and faster and pressing Kurt back into the mattress until Puck’s practically on top of him again.
Their hands are trapped between them and it’s a weird angle, but when Puck’s free hand slides under him to grip his ass and pull him up Kurt doesn’t really care if his arm’s going to hurt later. Puck’s fingers drag across his ass and Kurt’s not sure if he even means to do it, but Puck's opening him up all the same, and when Kurt imagines taking Puck inside him he gasps against Puck’s mouth and comes.
Puck follows a few seconds later, thrusting hard against him and panting against Kurt’s neck, his hand still gripping them loose and stroking through his orgasm. When he finally stops shaking Puck slides off Kurt and mouths his way back up Kurt’s neck, pressing soft kisses against his lips.
Kurt slides his arms around Puck’s neck and kisses him back, and if he holds on a little tighter than strictly necessary, Puck doesn’t mention it. Instead he reaches above them without looking, fumbling through the pile of clothes at the head of the bed until he finds his undershirt. He pulls away long enough to wipe both their stomachs clean, then wipes his hands on the wrecked shirt and tosses it on the floor.
When he’s finished he tugs down the covers they never bothered with and drags Kurt between the sheets with him, pulling him close and spooning and Kurt can’t help laughing.
“What?”
Puck’s voice is rough and sleepy and Kurt’s heart swells with a rush of affection. He slides his hand along the arm that’s around his waist until their fingers thread together, then he turns his head just far enough to brush his lips across Puck’s shoulder.
“I was just thinking what it would do to your reputation at McKinley if anyone there ever found out you’re a cuddler.”
He doesn’t hear Puck’s laugh so much as feel it, and when warm lips brush the back of his neck Kurt presses back into Puck’s body heat.
“Yeah, well, I go to Dalton now, so it doesn’t matter what anybody at McKinley thinks.”
The arm around Kurt’s waist tightens for a second or two, like maybe he’s trying to prove some kind of point, then he relaxes and Kurt closes his eyes and listens to Puck breathe until he falls asleep.
~
“How are you going to play baseball and sing in the show choir, anyway?” Kurt asks, frowning down at Puck where he’s stretched out on the grass next to Kurt.
They’re spending Sunday out on the quad, textbooks open around them but neither of them has made much headway on any of their homework. Kurt knows he’s going to pay for that tomorrow, but the past two days are the happiest he can ever remember being, and he wants to hold onto that feeling for as long as he can.
Besides, it’s finally warm enough to sit out on the quad all afternoon, and that means they've only got a little over a month left before they’re done for the year. When he transferred to Dalton he didn’t think much about what happened at the end of the year, when he had to go back to Lima for nearly three solid months.
He tried not to think about going back to Lima, because even though he wasn't going back to McKinley, he was going back to familiar faces and the same old patterns and listening to his friends fill him in on gossip he didn't want to know about people he’d just as soon forget existed. He’d thought at the time that none of his friends knew the real reason he left, and that’s still mostly true. But Puck knows, and Finn knows and even Rachel, and Kurt thinks he might even tell Mercedes and Tina when he gets home.
It’s still not something he likes to remember, but it’s a little easier to think about these days, so maybe he’ll be able to talk about it someday too. Not that there’s much to say, and anyway he has better things to talk about lately.
Puck blinks against the sunlight and tilts his head to look up at Kurt, and his smile looks kind of weird from this angle, but Kurt leans over and kisses him anyway. Puck’s hand lands on the back of his neck, fingers warm on Kurt’s skin where he pushes them under the collar of Kurt’s blazer.
His own blazer is lying on the grass beside him, shirtsleeves rolled up and he never even bothered with his tie this morning. Every time Kurt looks at him he thinks the word ‘debauched’, and he grins and presses one last kiss to Puck’s bottom lip before he sits up again.
“I haven’t even made the baseball team yet, babe.”
“You will,” Kurt says with exactly as much confidence as he feels. “I saw you out there, Noah. You were better than anybody else.”
“You’re pretty good for my ego, Hummel.”
“Please, like you’ve ever needed help with your ego,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes as Puck laughs and turns onto his side to push himself up on one elbow.
“I talked to the coach before I tried out,” Puck says, still grinning and Kurt can’t decide if it’s annoying or just annoyingly charming. “He said it should be cool. The athletics department works with the other extracurriculars to make sure nobody overlaps any more than they have to, and Glee doesn’t travel all that much on weekends. So if I have to miss a game or two during the season, it’s not the end of the world.”
Kurt tries to imagine anyone at McKinley being that flexible about working with the Glee club’s schedule. Then he pictures Coach Sylvester’s head actually exploding, and that’s a little easier to visualize.
“Really?”
“That's what I said. I mean, it’s Glee, right? But they take it pretty serious here. Guess all the trophies probably help with that.”
“I guess.”
It’s not the first time since he transferred that Kurt’s had the urge to pinch himself. It’s not even the first time this weekend, but he has a feeling it’s going to keep happening for awhile, maybe even until they graduate and have to figure out what to do with the rest of their lives. And Kurt knows that decision is closer than he’d like it to be, because he’s finally happy for the first time and he wants it to last.
But they’ve still got the summer, and the few times the subject’s come up so far Puck’s made it sound like it’s a given that they’ll be spending as much of it as possible together. And next year they can drive themselves back to school, which means they'll have a readily available means of escaping the antiquated rules on campus once in awhile.
They’ve got a whole year ahead of them to be Kurt and Noah, whatever that means, and after that...well, he’s not going to worry about it until he has to.
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine, Kurt/Puck
Rating: NC17
Summary: AU Based on this prompt. After Kurt transfers to Dalton, his life is perfect. He has friends and a spot in the show choir, and a hot boyfriend who's totally into him, so it's easy to ignore the nagging feeling that something's missing. Then Puck turns up and Kurt's life gets a lot more complicated. 37,600 words.
A/N: This started as a little 1200 word fill on the puckurt Fic Meme. I was just messing around one night between writing projects, really. Then it took hold of my brain and wouldn't let go, and somehow I lost an entire week of my life. Nearly 40,000 words later and here we are. With thanks to duckduck, cinderlily, and jengeorge for the encouragement and the typo policing. Any remaining mistakes are obviously mine.
“How about Kanye?” Puck says, grinning when Kurt rolls his eyes. “Come on, I heard about Schue’s white boy rap cover. It could be a tribute or whatever.”
“I really don’t think a tribute to Mr. Schuester or New Directions is necessary,” Kurt says, “but if it means that much to you, you could always just sing ‘Ohio’.”
If he was worried that Puck was actually considering singing “Gold Digger”, he’d put up more of a fight, but they’re on their way to the audition, so Kurt knows by now that Puck’s had his song picked out for awhile, and he’s spent the entire day teasing Kurt with inappropriate suggestions just to make him laugh.
“Somebody wrote a song about Ohio?” Puck says, in a tone that implies that he’s wondering why, exactly, and Kurt doesn’t have time to explain the entire plot of “Wonderful Town” to Puck right now, even if he thought Puck would care about an admittedly obscure musical.
They’re almost to the choir room, and when they get close enough to hear the chatter of several different conversations floating out into the hall Kurt catches Puck’s hand and stops walking. Puck looks back at him, then he looks down at their hands and raises an eyebrow at Kurt.
“I’m not really thinking about doing Kanye, Kurt. You don’t have to have a panic attack or anything.”
“I know that,” Kurt says, and he feels his cheeks start to burn but he ignores it and takes a step toward Puck. “I told you, whatever you sing, you’ll still be the best one in there.”
Puck grins at him and sways a little closer, just kind of leaning in and looking at Kurt, one eyebrow still cocked as though he’s issuing some kind of challenge. Kurt wants to scream, because if Puck’s going to kiss him, this is pretty much the perfect time. He’s all but writing an invitation here, and Puck’s proven over the past three days that he can certainly take a hint. Besides, Kurt’s never been any good at subtlety, so it should be obvious what he’s offering.
As soon as he thinks the word he feels the color drain from his face, and the butterflies start up again at hurricane force. And he should have realized what Puck’s waiting for, should have known two days ago when he found himself apologizing for comparing Puck to Karofsky that he was always going to have to make the first move.
Maybe the second and the third too, and that thought makes his stomach flip right over, but there’s not going to be a second or third move unless he makes the first one, so he takes a deep breath that does nothing at all to steel his nerves, then he moves into Puck’s personal space and rests a hand on the front of his blazer.
“For luck,” he whispers just before he leans up and presses his lips to Puck’s.
Their first kiss is soft, just a brief press of lips and the gentle pressure of Kurt’s hand on Puck’s chest, just below his heart. He hears a soft ‘oh’ and realizes it’s coming from him, then he pulls back to take in the sight of dark eyes and slightly parted lips, turning up at the corners like Puck wasn’t really expecting that, but he’s happy all the same that Kurt’s on board with moving things forward already.
“I don’t think I’m gonna need any luck,” Puck says, voice kind of rough and when his hand slides into Kurt’s hair to tilt his head back, Kurt’s whole body shudders.
Puck grins at him up close and fuses their mouths together, letting go of Kurt’s hand to grip his waist and tug him even closer. Kurt’s fingers curl around the front of Puck’s jacket and hold on tight while he kisses Puck back, parting his lips to let Puck in and this...this is how he imagined Puck would kiss.
Puck kisses with intent, as though he’s proving a point and he has no intention of stopping until he’s sure his case has been made. He’s breathing hard through his nose, like he’s having trouble keeping his lungs filled but he doesn’t want to stop kissing Kurt even long enough to breathe, and just the thought of Puck wanting him that much -- wanting him and holding back until he’s sure Kurt’s in this with him -- makes Kurt blush all the way to the roots of his hair.
He feels his toes curl -- and God, he didn’t even know that actually happened in real life -- and he wants to drag Puck out of the hall, into the nearest empty room and he doesn’t care where it is or how likely someone is to walk in and see them. All he knows is that he wants more...everything, whatever Puck will give him.
Way too soon Puck’s pulling back, breathing heavy and resting his forehead against Kurt’s for a second. His eyes are closed and he’s still got a hand buried in Kurt’s hair, and all Kurt can think is I love you.
Then a throat clears down the hall and Puck’s eyes open, but he doesn’t let go of Kurt as he looks up to see who it is.
“Guys, get a room or get in here. Auditions are about to start,” one of the other Warblers says, and Kurt blushes and lets go of Puck’s blazer as a few members of the choir walk by. A couple of them are looking anywhere but at him and Puck, but at least one of them is openly snickering at them. He realizes too late that Blaine’s one of the ones looking away, and he swallows the rush of guilt as Puck lets go of him and glances over his shoulder to watch the other boys pass.
Once they’re gone he turns back to Kurt to slide a hand under his chin, tilting his face up and pressing another firm kiss to his lips before he lets go again.
“Guess I better get in there before your ex blacklists me,” Puck says, and Kurt’s sure he’s dreaming now, because there’s no way Noah Puckerman and Blaine are...well, sort of fighting over him.
“He wouldn’t,” Kurt says, but he’s not really sure anymore. “You said he invited you to try out before I did.”
“Yeah, but he was probably hoping I sucked.”
Kurt rolls his eyes at Puck’s grin and lets himself be pulled into the choir room, then he lets go of Puck’s hand and takes a seat with the rest of the choir. He watches Puck cross the room and write his name on the list, right at the bottom, before he takes a seat with the other guys who made it through the first cut.
They were pretty ruthless with the first cuts, so there aren’t nearly as many performances to listen to the second time around. This time Blaine doesn’t call Puck up right away, but he doesn’t make him wait until last, either. And it’s smart, Kurt knows, because if Puck does well again it will be even harder to argue against him if his is the last performance the rest of them hear.
So he calls Puck right in the middle of the group, and when Puck stands up he doesn’t make a speech about some other song he’s written. Instead he just starts singing, that smirk of his firmly in place and his hips swaying a little like he’s hearing the music in his head while he sings.
It takes Kurt a minute to recognize the song, because Puck’s singing it with kind of a weird, almost country beat, and anyway he never would have guessed Puck for a Kylie Minogue fan. But he sounds good, and his version of the song works in a way Kurt never would have expected, and by the time he hits the second chorus of “All the Lovers”, at least half the room is tapping their feet and a few of the guys are even singing along.
When he finishes Puck grins right at Kurt and takes his seat, and Kurt’s heart pounds in his chest like it’s still keeping time with Puck’s song.
“You’ve gotta admit, man, that’s totally what we do,” one of the guys says when Blaine stands up, and Kurt winces when the rest of the room laughs. But it’s true, and even Blaine smiles and nods in Puck’s direction.
“Let’s save the commentary for after the auditions, guys,” he says, but he doesn’t look that upset, and Kurt feels something in his chest uncoil. “We all had to sweat it out, no reason they shouldn’t too.”
The rest of the guys laugh again, then Blaine calls the next boy up to sing, and Kurt turns his attention back to Puck. Puck who’s staring right back at him, leaning forward in his chair with his elbows braced on his knees and that damn tie hanging around his neck, and all Kurt wants to do is cross the room and climb right into his lap.
But there’s the rest of the auditions, then they’ll have to argue about who’s in and probably have another debate about whether or not to save any spaces for any particularly talented freshmen who might turn up in the fall, and by then it’ll be close to curfew and Kurt still hasn’t done any of his homework.
Which means there’s no chance of picking up where they left off in the hall, even if they didn’t both have roommates, and the next time Kurt sees Puck will be tomorrow in a crowded dining room. He sighs and shifts in his chair and tries to pinpoint when, exactly, he went from being annoyed at the very thought of Noah Puckerman to plotting just exactly how soon he can get Puck alone.
~
As it turns out, there are rules about kissing in the halls. Which seems pretty arbitrary, considering it’s an all-boys’ school, and Kurt’s not entirely unconvinced that the guidance counselor hasn’t made them up while he waits for Kurt and Puck to turn up in his office.
They’re sent there by Kurt’s French teacher, the traitor, who Kurt’s ninety-five percent sure is a lesbian, and shouldn’t the gay community stick together? But he doesn’t point it out, because there’s that other five percent to consider, and if he accuses Madame Moreau of being gay and he’s wrong, there’s a chance it will reflect badly on his grade for the year.
Kurt’s never heard of the alleged rules until they get sent to the guidance counselor, but Blaine never kissed him the way Puck was kissing him right before they split up for their language classes, either, like he was trying to see just how many of Kurt’s brain cells he could blow in the space of two minutes.
He’s never considered that maybe there’s a reason why Blaine never tried to kiss him like that until he hears about the rules, mostly because Kurt never really wanted Blaine to kiss him the way he wants Puck to kiss him.
“This is discrimination,” Kurt says when the guidance counselor finishes lecturing them on propriety and ‘conducting themselves like gentlemen’. “If one of us was a girl no one would have blinked.”
“The rules apply to everyone, even visitors,” the guidance counselor says, and Kurt narrows his eyes and takes back every favorable comparison he ever made between the man and Ms. Pillsbury.
Puck doesn’t say a word through the entire lecture, just sits there and stares down at his hands and for all Kurt knows he’s practicing some kind of meditation technique his therapist taught him. It’s...sort of impressive, not that Kurt has any intention of telling him so, because it’s great that Puck’s getting a handle on his adolescent rage and all, but he could use a little back-up here.
Class is almost over by the time they’re dismissed, and the guidance counselor sends them to lunch a little early with a disturbingly cheerful wave and a promise that the school respects their right to date anyone they like, as long as they respect the rules.
“Thank you so much for the input back there, by the way,” Kurt says when they’re finally clear of the administrative offices, but he can tell Puck’s not listening, because he just blinks and says, “Do you think that counted as an official warning?”
“Warning about what? Keeping our adolescent hormones in check?” Kurt asks, and he’s still too busy being outraged to blush at the mention of his hormones.
“No, seriously, this place has a three strikes policy and they’re pretty hardcore about it. If you get tossed out of here you just go back to Lima, but if I get thrown out it’s back to Juvie.”
Kurt’s heart clenches at the look on Puck’s face, and he reaches out and catches Puck’s hand, gripping just this side of too hard and he’s not even sure what he’s trying to say, but he hopes Puck understands anyway. It’s easy for him to forget that Puck’s on his last chance, that if it wasn’t for Schue buying him another chance he’d already be back in Juvie. Unfairly, yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that technically he should be there already, and Kurt’s certainly not going to be the one to get him sent back.
“They can hardly count it as official if we didn’t know we were breaking one of their stupid rules.”
“I knew,” Puck says, glancing over at Kurt, and now he just looks surprised. “It’s in the handbook. We’re all supposed to read that thing. It’s one of the first things my therapist went over, something about knowing the boundaries so I could learn to operate within them or whatever.”
Kurt’s sure he got a handbook at some point, but he has no idea what he did with it. He knows he didn’t read it, at least not that he can recall. But when he started he already had Blaine to show him the ropes, and Kurt’s ashamed to realize that instead of learning anything on his own he just followed Blaine around like some kind of puppy until Puck came along to distract him.
“So what other rules should I know about?”
“No tongue in the hallway,” Puck says, and Kurt nods without comment because that one he’s already got down. “No hands below the waist in public, uniforms stay on in the building. No hickeys period. It’s a little more chill if we’re outside; we won’t get busted for making out or ditching the blazers or anything, but we’re still supposed to keep our hands above the clothes. Technically there’s a campus-wide no sex rule.”
Kurt’s cheeks are burning just from picturing the things he’s not supposed to do with Puck, but when he gets to that last part Kurt goes from turned on straight back to indignant.
“Someone might have told me I’d joined a convent.”
“Tell me about it,” Puck says, but he’s smiling like he doesn’t really mind that much, and Kurt’s struck all over again at how strange it is to be the one in this relationship pushing for more. “I mean, I knew I should put the brakes on when you kissed me before, but it’s not like I was thinking all that clear at the time. I might be working on controlling my temper or whatever, but I’ve still got needs, you know?”
His voice drops almost a full octave when he says it, and Kurt swallows hard and lets his gaze wander down the center of Puck’s chest. But they’re still in the hallway, and any minute now class is going to let out and if they get caught making out again after they just got in trouble for the very same thing, it probably will be official.
“I did not kiss you first.”
“Yeah, you did,” Puck says, grinning like it’s a mark of personal pride somehow, and it’s possible, Kurt concedes privately, but it’s not like he’d remember who kissed who first, what with the whole brain cell blowing thing.
Puck’s hands land on Kurt -- just above the waist, in keeping with the rules, Kurt notes distantly -- and he leans in, brushing their lips together and that’s so not fair, because Kurt still wants to say to hell with the rules, but he doesn’t want Puck getting sent back to prison just for making out.
“Noah,” he says, murmuring Puck’s name against his mouth and the noise Puck makes when he says it sends a jolt of want straight to the pit of Kurt’s stomach.
Technically they’re not breaking any rules, because there’s no tongue and everyone’s hands are where they’re supposed to be, but Kurt’s pulse is rushing against his eardrums and he can feel Puck’s heart beating fast and he knows how quickly this could turn into something they can’t stop.
“The lacrosse team has a meet way the hell out near Akron on Saturday,” Puck says, breathing heavy even though they aren’t really doing anything, and it’s hot in a way Kurt doesn’t expect. “They’ll be gone all day.”
Kurt wonders for a second if maybe Puck’s blown a few brain cells of his own, because he’s not sure what the lacrosse team’s schedule has to do with anything, but when he pulls back to ask what Puck’s talking about, his stomach clenches hard at the look on Puck’s face.
“My roommate plays lacrosse.”
Oh, Kurt thinks, feels the pull of desire in his groin and runs his thumb along Puck’s bottom lip. Then he leans up and kisses him again, careful to keep his hands above the waist and his tongue in his own mouth.
“I’ve always been a staunch supporter of school athletics,” he says, and when Puck laughs Kurt feels it rumble against his chest and starts mentally calculating the hours between now and Saturday.
~
The list of new Warblers goes up after dinner, but Puck already knows he’s on it, so it doesn’t matter that he’s with his therapist when it’s posted. Kurt waits for him after dinner, taking advantage of the longer days and the warmer spring evenings to sit outside on the stone steps and read the assigned chapter in their European History book while he waits for Puck to cross the quad and sit down beside him.
He’s trying to focus on the chapter, because he can’t afford to fall behind in any of his classes, no matter how complicated his social life has become lately, but his mind keeps wandering to the feel of Puck’s hand on his waist and the look in his eyes when he said my roommate plays lacrosse.
And Kurt’s not a child, so he knows what happens on Saturday. He wants it to happen in a way he’s never wanted anything before, and he doesn’t even find it strange anymore that the person he wants it to happen with is Noah Puckerman.
But that’s just the thing, because Noah’s changed a lot in the last few months, but he’s still Puck, still has all Puck’s vast experience to compare Kurt to, and Kurt…doesn’t. All Kurt has is a good imagination and a reliable internet connection, and there’s only so much that can be learned by asking Google.
He and Blaine never made it past kissing, which is mostly Kurt’s fault, and even though there’s a part of him that wishes he had a little experience, at least so he won’t completely humiliate himself, the rest of him is sort of glad he’s going to be with Puck the first time.
Puck makes him feel safe, and that’s something he never thought he’d be able to say, but there it is, all the same. Puck makes him feel in a way he’s never felt with anyone, not through pointless schoolboy crushes on Finn and Sam, and not during his affectionate but mostly platonic relationship with Blaine.
He looks up and spots Puck walking toward him, heart skipping a beat and that’s another feeling he’s starting to get used to. When Puck reaches him he smiles and sits down on the steps next to Kurt, leans in and curves his hand around the back of Kurt’s neck to draw him in for a kiss.
And they’re outside, so Puck can kiss him however he wants, but he opts for slow and almost chaste, lips barely parted and eyes closed and just…lingering, like he’s trying to make this moment last as long as he can. Kurt’s hand lands on his knee, just because he can, and he smiles against Puck’s mouth and lets his fingers trail up Puck’s inseam.
“Hi,” Kurt says when Puck pulls back to look at him, and he’s aware that his smile’s probably sort of dreamy and ridiculous, but when Puck just smiles back at him he decides it doesn’t matter.
“Hi,” Puck says, then he reaches down to catch the hand that’s still resting on his thigh and pulls it back into neutral territory. “So did I make the cut?”
“You know you did,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes but he’s still smiling, so it sort of ruins the effect. “The Kylie song was pretty inspired. Where’d you come up with that one, anyway?”
“Who’s Kylie?” Puck asks, and his frown probably matches Kurt’s.
“Kylie Minogue. She’s a singer? Club music, mostly, which admittedly doesn’t strike me as your style, so I thought maybe you’d gotten some help on your song choice from Santana or someone.”
“I haven’t talked to anybody from home except Finn and my family since I left,” Puck says. He shrugs when Kurt frowns again, thumb moving across Kurt’s knuckles and it’s distracting in a really nice way. “Figured it was easier to keep Hudson’s secret if I didn’t have to answer a lot of dumb questions, you know?”
It makes sense when he puts it that way, and it’s not like Kurt’s going to complain about Puck leaving Santana and Quinn in his past, but it still seems a little sad that he could just walk away from his entire life like that. Then again, Kurt walked away from his life too, and somehow they still ended up right next to each other.
“So where’d you hear about that song?”
“It’s the Scissor Sisters. They did this totally righteous version of it on some radio show in England or something. Somebody posted a video on Youtube.”
And he should have known, really, because there’s no way Puck’s heard of Kylie. But somehow he still picked the perfect song to get him into show choir, and next year they’ll not only get to spend rehearsals together, but they’ll get to travel to competitions and maybe share a hotel room, at least when they have to stay overnight at Regionals.
Kurt’s stomach trembles at the thought of Puck and a big hotel bed all to himself for an entire night, and he’s grateful the sun’s finally starting to go down so Puck won’t see him blushing for the millionth time this week.
How was therapy?” Kurt asks, just to get his mind off Puck and hotel beds.
“Okay. My shrink says you’re good for me.”
“Oh?” Kurt says, and he knows he sounds surprised, but it’s not so much because Puck’s doctor approves as it is because Puck talks about him.
He knows Puck takes his sessions seriously, and Kurt’s glad, because he seems to be getting plenty out of them, whether he needed them from the start or not. So it’s kind of nice to know that Puck considers him important enough to mention to his doctor, and the fact that she knows enough about them to have an opinion one way or the other means he’s probably been talking about Kurt for awhile.
“Yeah,” Puck says, grinning at Kurt and maybe the sky isn’t quite dark enough to cover his blush after all. “She says I focus better when I’m not distracted thinking about you with some other guy. It was kind of distracting, so I guess she’s got a point.”
It’s still completely weird to be on this side of the equation; back at McKinley Puck had his pick of girls, and there’s no way he ever would have given Kurt a second thought. But here they make sense, so much so that even Puck’s therapist thinks they’re good together. Kurt smiles and squeezes Puck’s hand, then he stands up and pulls Puck to his feet.
“Come on, it’s getting dark out here. Let’s go up to the study lounge and I’ll help you with Geometry.”
Puck stands up, but he holds tight to Kurt’s hand when he tries to walk away, then he slides an arm around Kurt’s waist and pulls him close.
“In a minute,” Puck whispers, the words warm against Kurt’s lips as Puck leans in for another kiss. This one’s harder than the first, wet and hot and open, and when Puck hooks his arms around Kurt and pulls him flush against Puck’s body he moans into Puck’s mouth and fists his hands in the front of Puck’s blazer.
Puck’s hand leaves his waist to slide lower, across his ass and spreading his fingers wide and wow, Puck has really big hands. Kurt gasps into his mouth and lets Puck pull him forward, his erection pressed against Puck’s and when Kurt grinds against him Puck groans and pulls back.
“Jesus, Kurt,” Puck says, but his breath hitches and his hand’s pushing through Kurt’s hair, just sort of...petting him while they breathe the same air and try to pull it together.
“Geometry,” Kurt says, mainly to try to re-focus his brain. Or try to focus it at all, which he’s pretty sure is impossible at this point.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be learning a whole lot tonight,” Puck says, letting out a shaky laugh, and boy, does Kurt ever know the feeling.
~
They don’t talk about what happens when Puck’s roommate leaves town with the entire lacrosse team in tow, inadvertently gifting Kurt with the opportunity to get Puck alone that he’s been both longing for and terrified of since this whole thing started. They don’t talk about it on Thursday night when they’re sitting side by side in the study lounge, shoulders pressed together and Kurt’s fingers skimming the back of Puck’s hand while he tries to explain Geometric concepts that don’t currently make any sense to either of them.
They don’t discuss it on Friday either, but Puck’s right there next to him all day, looking as hopelessly rumpled and confident as usual, but sort of vibrating next to Kurt like he’s anticipating something. Kurt tells himself it’s just the adrenaline from the baseball tryouts he knows Puck’s been looking forward to all week; he hasn’t gotten a chance to participate in that kind of organized violence in awhile, so naturally he’d look forward to it.
Except that Puck keeps touching him, whether it’s a hand around his in the hallway, or a hand on his back to steer him through the dining room, or Puck’s thumb tracing the line of his jaw when he leans over the fence at the baseball field, kissing Kurt softly and murmuring, “for luck.” Kurt blushes and tries not to smile when Puck laughs at him, then he sits in the stands and voluntarily watches a live sporting event he’s neither cheering for nor participating in, and wonders what his father would say if he could see Kurt right now.
He doesn’t know what his father thinks of Puck. He’s Finn’s best friend, though, which should count for something. He’s not sure how Finn will feel, but if what he says is true and Puck does talk about Kurt, then maybe he already knows.
Kurt watches Puck swing at a perfect pitch, then he watches Puck lazily jog around the bases as the ball keeps soaring way out past the field, into the tall grass that Kurt assumes means he knocked it out of the park. Not that he ever had any doubt that Puck would make the team; he played for McKinley, after all, and Kurt always assumed it was just because he had to do something with all that testosterone after football season was over, but it turns out he’s pretty good.
It doesn’t hurt that he looks really good in the uniform.
After tryouts Kurt hangs around while the coach talks to them, then he waits while Puck heads to the locker rooms to change with the rest of the guys. He sits in the bleachers and tries not to picture Puck changing in a locker room full of other athletic young men and flips his phone open and closed while he debates whether or not to send the text he’s been considering for a few days now.
As soon as he does there’s no taking it back. No pretending it never happened and going back to life before ‘Kurt and Noah’. That’s how most of the guys are already referring to them, in the same breath as though they just...go together. So if it doesn’t work out there will be enough public humiliation to suffer at Dalton, and he’s been telling himself all week that he doesn’t need to set himself up for that in Lima as well.
Right now his father and Carole know, he’s fairly sure, at least if his dad caught any of the hints Kurt dropped the last time they spoke. And he hasn’t asked, but Puck keeps up a regular e-mail conversation with Finn which apparently started as more or less a progress report on Kurt, so he’s guessing Finn knows. Which means Kurt’s entire family knows about his relationship, and it’s possible some of Puck’s family knows, but that’s as far as the news has spread back home.
If he tells Mercedes and swears her to secrecy she might actually keep his secret. He’s not sure; they all try to keep each other’s confidences, but there are some secrets that are just too good not to tell, and when there’s a willing audience of 500 other gossip-prone teenagers around, people are bound to talk.
Then there’s Puck to consider. It’s possible he doesn’t want other people to know, that he wants to keep his life here at Dalton separate from whatever he was back in Lima. It’s not that Kurt thinks he’s some kind of bi-curious experiment on Puck’s part. He considered the possibility, at first, but Puck’s made it fairly clear that this is what he wants and he doesn’t have any qualms about the fact that Kurt happens to also be a guy. He’s fine with all the boys at Dalton knowing, including the ones on the baseball team, apparently, considering he just kissed his boyfriend in front of them.
His boyfriend. It’s silly and juvenile and Kurt’s well aware, because he’s had a boyfriend practically every minute since he got to Dalton, but it wasn’t until this week that the thought has made the butterflies in his stomach take flight.
“What’s the matter?”
Kurt blinks at the sound of Puck’s voice and looks up from his phone, taking in Puck’s frown and his guarded expression and shaking his head. “Nothing. I was just wondering...do you mind if I mention to Mercedes that we’re seeing each other?”
Puck doesn’t lose the frown, but the guarded expression clears in favor of that cute, puzzled one he gets when he doesn’t quite grasp a Geometry concept.
“Why would I? I told Hudson you finally stopped holding out on me a couple days ago. Come to think of it, he’s probably told Berry already, because you know he can’t keep a secret from her worth a damn, and she’s got the biggest fucking mouth in Lima, so Aretha probably already knows.”
It’s surprisingly sound logic, Kurt has to admit. He smiles and lets Puck pull him to his feet, then Puck slides an arm around his shoulders and pulls him back toward the school. “Believe me, if Mercedes had heard already, I’d know.”
Puck laughs but doesn’t answer, so Kurt flips his phone back open and starts a new text. Only he’s not sure of the best way to say it; he could just come right out and say, Noah and I are an item now, only she’d probably have to ask who Noah is, and that would require more explanation than he can fit in 160 characters.
Puck and I are an item now.
That’s perfectly clear, and it might not even surprise her all that much, given the conversation she witnessed the last time he was home. It’s clear, but it doesn’t even come close to saying what’s really happening. He could type, Somehow I fell in love with Noah Puckerman. I keep expecting to wake up from a truly amazing dream, but that doesn’t get the point across that he thinks Puck might kind of love him back, a little.
He’s not bold enough to type Puck and I are in love, not with Puck looking over his shoulder. The cursor’s still blinking at the end of Puck and I, waiting for him to commit to a message and press send and this shouldn’t be so hard.
Before he makes up his mind Puck makes an impatient noise and pulls his arm off Kurt’s shoulders, then he tugs Kurt’s phone out of his hand and stops walking, fingers flying over the tiny keyboard and before Kurt even gets a look at whatever he’s typing, Puck hits send.
“Hey,” Kurt protests, but Puck just rolls his eyes and hands the phone back.
“Whatever, Princess, you’d be standing out here staring at that screen all night if I didn’t do something. I’m gonna go drop my gear in my room and grab my stuff. I’ll meet you in the study lounge in twenty.”
Then he’s gone, before Kurt can even protest that it’s Friday night, and technically they have all weekend to study. Except they’ve got plans for Saturday, and Kurt blushes and flips the phone open to scroll down to his sent messages. He hesitates for a second before he opens the most recent one, wincing at Puck’s appalling affinity for text speak, but he has to admit Puck knows how to get the point across.
hey retha u dont hav 2 worry bout yr boy i got it covrd. thnk i kinda luv him. peace
His heart’s still pounding hard when his phone beeps, then the message he’s been staring at disappears and Kurt hits ‘okay’ to read the incoming text.
Did Puck just txt me from yr phone and say he loves you????
He’s only got twenty minutes before he’s supposed to meet Puck, and that’s not nearly enough time to have this conversation, but at least the fact that he’s having it means he didn’t hallucinate Puck’s text after all. Kurt smiles and hits reply, then he starts typing.
Yes, and the craziest part is, I love him too.
~
Saturdays at Dalton Prep aren’t that much different than any other day. They don’t have to attend classes, of course, but they have so much homework over the weekends that any alleged free time they have is eaten up by whatever projects they haven’t gotten done during the week. Then there are club meetings and group projects, regular meal times to work around and by the time they get to Sunday evening, no one feels all that much like they’ve had a weekend at all.
The dress code is a little more relaxed on the weekend, but if they’re not playing a sport or outside tossing a football around or something, they’re expected to be in their shirtsleeves and uniform pants, at the very least. So they get to ditch the tie and the blazer, if they want, which isn’t much of a break from the monotony of the uniform, in Kurt’s opinion.
Seniors who keep cars on campus can head into town in civilian clothes to spend the day hanging around in the tiny, picturesque village down the road that’s popular with tourists and Dalton moms. They’re expected to conduct themselves ‘in a manner befitting their status as Dalton Men’, which means even if Kurt and Puck were allowed into town, they’re technically not allowed to sit in the back row of the movie theater and ignore the movie while they spend two hours just making out.
Still, it’s a fairly safe rule to break, considering the stories Kurt’s heard about some of the seniors who have girlfriends near enough to meet them in town on the weekend. Something to look forward to when they’re seniors and he’s got the Navigator on campus, at any rate.
He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he hears Puck say, “What?” across the table. Kurt looks up from his coffee and blushes, which just ups the wattage on Puck’s grin even further, and Kurt knows what Puck thinks he’s smiling about.
“I was thinking about next year,” Kurt says, and it’s perfectly true, even if Puck’s a little bit right about what, exactly, he was thinking about next year. “You know, we can have cars on campus when we’re seniors. I was just thinking if I had the Navigator here, we could go home more often. Or whatever.”
“I can get behind ‘whatever’.”
The way Puck’s looking at him sends a thrill of anticipation straight to Kurt’s dick, but what makes his heart race is the fact that Puck didn’t even blink at the fact that Kurt just assumes they’ll still be together next year. And okay, Puck’s already said he loves Kurt -- sort of, anyway -- so Kurt knows this isn’t like his other relationships. If one can even call them relationships, which Kurt really can’t, not when he’s heard Santana herself announce more than once that having sex with Puck doesn’t mean they’re dating.
So unless he counts Quinn -- and really, they can hardly count that as a relationship -- this is the first time Puck’s ever dated someone. Granted, it’s been less than a week, but Puck said himself that he’s wanted this for a lot longer than just a week, so Kurt’s pretty sure that means he’s planning to stick around.
Still. It’s kind of nice to have independent confirmation, and Kurt’s not too proud to admit it, at least to himself.
“You ready to get out of here?” Puck asks, and when Kurt looks up at him again the butterflies in his stomach stage a revolt the likes of which he’s never felt before. Kurt nods because he doesn’t trust his voice not to betray him, then he stands up and doesn’t even think about picking up his tray before he follows Puck out of the dining room.
Puck reaches for his hand, and when Kurt looks up Puck’s watching him with dark, dark eyes and an expression that Kurt would have described as ‘scary’ once, but now he knows that it just means Puck knows exactly what he wants, and he’s waiting for the signal that tells him it’s his for the taking.
Kurt’s seen Puck’s room before, and even if he hadn’t, it doesn’t look any different from the rest of their rooms. Two single beds pushed against either wall, a long desk at the back split into two sections and lined with textbooks and CDs and copies of Sports Illustrated. There’s a window above the desk that looks out over the woods that stretch out beyond the school, and it’s a different view than Kurt has from his own window, which is the most distinguishing thing about it.
Puck’s guitar is leaning against the wall by the head of his bed, and when Kurt follows him inside and closes the door Puck passes by the bed and picks up the guitar. “You still want to hear that song?”
“Yes,” Kurt says, and it’s true, but it’s not why they’re here, and he’s not sure whether to be annoyed at the stalling tactic or grateful for the reprieve. He sits in the chair at Puck’s desk anyway, perching on the edge and watching while Puck clears his throat and sits down on the side of his bed.
Puck strums a few chords, listening to each one before he decides that the guitar’s tuned well enough and starts playing. And he’s right; the song sounds better with a guitar behind it. The lyrics are still nonsensical and absolutely, one hundred percent Puck, and somehow the guitar makes them even more so. Kurt thinks vaguely that it has something to do with the sort of frenetic beat, but it’s hard to think at all when Puck’s staring at him like he’s trying to tell Kurt something.
He’s not vain enough to assume Puck wrote that song for him or anything. But it’s hard not to believe it when Puck’s watching him and singing you know I dreamed about you for eighteen years before I saw you, and when Puck closes his eyes and sings I missed you for eighteen years, Kurt has to swallow hard around the lump in his throat.
And he’s not actually a girl, despite certain closed-minded opinions to the contrary back home, so he’s not going to cry. But he sort of wants to, because he knows how that feels, and it’s been less than a week, so there’s no guarantee he’ll get to keep this feeling. It turns out Puck knows the feeling too, though, and that’s a pretty good start.
When Puck’s done he doesn’t set the guitar down; he doesn’t look up either, just keeps strumming chords and kind of humming under his breath. Like he’s nervous. Like he’s waiting for Kurt’s reaction and it matters or something.
“You were right,” Kurt says, voice shaking a little and he’s sure Puck can hear it too. “It sounds even better with a guitar behind it.”
One side of Puck’s mouth lifts in a smile, and he strums another chord before he looks up at Kurt. “Yeah, the whole a cappella thing is cool or whatever, but I can’t see giving up the guitar for good.”
“How long have you been writing music, anyway?”
“Not long,” Puck answers, then he looks down at the strings again and shifts his fingers into what Kurt can see is a tricky chord. “Me and Hudson used to mess around, back before football kinda took over, but it was mostly shitty heavy metal and a lot of it we probably ripped off from real bands anyway. This is the first one I ever wrote for real. I’m working on something new, but so far all I’ve got is the bridge and a few lyrics.”
“Can I hear it?”
“Nothing to hear yet, babe,” Puck says, then he grins and Kurt feels his temperature creep up a few degrees. Puck sets the guitar back down on the floor and Kurt knows that this is it, that they’ve reached that ‘second move’ he’s going to have to make if he wants to do anything today other than listen to Puck strum chords on his guitar and reminisce about his youthful rock band dreams.
Kurt stands up and crosses the few feet of space to the bed, and when Puck straightens up again Kurt’s standing right in front of him. He looks a little surprised, but he reaches up to grip Kurt’s hips - below the waist, and thank God for that, Kurt thinks -- and slides his tongue along his bottom lip, like maybe he’s waiting for something.
Waiting for Kurt, and just the thought is as terrifying as it is really, really hot. Kurt takes a deep breath and rests his hands on either side of Puck’s face, fingers catching a little on the stubble on his chin as Kurt leans forward and kisses him.
He’s kissed Puck enough times by now to know what it feels like, the way it makes his skin feel tight and electric, like his whole body’s vibrating with the need for more. But this is the first time he’s ever kissed Puck behind closed doors, where they both know that it’s not going to stop at just a kiss. At least it’s not if Kurt has anything to say about it, and anyone who’s ever met him knows he usually has plenty to say.
Kurt laughs at the thought and kisses Puck again, slower this time, because they’ve got...well, not all the time in the world, certainly, and not even enough time for everything Kurt wants from Puck, but they’ve got time, and that’s more of a luxury than Kurt expected.
Puck’s hands leave his hips and slide down, over the swell of his ass to grip the backs of his thighs. Kurt makes a muffled, embarrassing noise against Puck’s mouth and runs his hands over Puck’s scalp, fingers digging into his stupid mohawk and when Puck sort of purrs low in his throat and tightens his grip on Kurt’s legs, Kurt does it again.
They’re still wearing all their clothes, and that’s no good, so Kurt reaches for the buttons on Puck’s shirt, tugging them open one by one and it’s a good thing he’s so well-versed in fashion, because it’s not that easy to unbutton someone else’s shirt with his eyes closed.
“Kurt,” Puck murmurs, right up against his mouth, then he pulls back a little and Kurt opens his eyes to blink down at him.
Kurt makes a vague humming noise and opens another button, but he’s reaching the point where he’s going to have to change positions to get Puck’s shirt open all the way, and he’s not sure he’s ready to give up the fingers tracing the crease of his thighs right along the bottom of his ass.
“Kurt,” Puck says again, louder this time and Kurt blinks and looks at him. Puck’s pupils are blown and Kurt can see clearly exactly how into this he is when he glances down at Puck’s lap, so he’s not sure what the problem is. He’s sure it’s nothing that can’t be surmounted with a little well-placed distraction, though, so he shoves at Puck’s shoulders until he moves back on the bed, then Kurt kneels on the mattress and swings one leg over Puck’s thighs.
“Yes?” Kurt says, and at least he can reach more buttons while he’s more or less straddling Puck’s lap, so he gets back to business. And Puck could help here, but Kurt’s pretty sure this is that third move he’s been expecting to have to make, so he’s mostly okay with it.
“Look, I know I gave you a lot of shit about not putting out for Blaine and all, but I was just being an asshole because I was jealous. I mean, it was either that or beat the shit out of the dude, and I don’t do that anymore. Not unless somebody deserves it, anyway.”
He’s talking a lot, but Kurt’s not sure why, exactly. He already knows all of this, and it’s kind of a weird time to play true confessions anyway. So Kurt unfastens the last button on Puck’s shirt, then he pushes the shirt open and reaches for the button at the top of Puck’s pants.
A hand closes over his and he looks up, watching Puck’s face while he takes a deep breath, then another one. “I’m trying to say you don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready or whatever.”
It’s sweet, Kurt supposes, and it’s clearly a pretty big sacrifice for Puck, because he’s fighting his breath and his voice sounds sort of funny, like he can’t quite remember how to work it. So Kurt shifts until their dicks are lined up, gasping and closing his eyes for a second while he bites down hard on his lip. When he regains control and opens his eyes again Puck’s still watching, but he’s not trying to talk Kurt out of this anymore.
“This is something you’re not going to hear very often in our relationship, so I want you to enjoy it,” Kurt says, then he shifts a little more and Puck groans and grips his thigh hard enough for Kurt to feel it. “You were right, Noah. About Blaine; about everything. I know what I want now. I love you. Now shut up.”
He’s not sure where he finds the courage to say all that, and by the end of his speech he’s blushing so furiously he’s sure he’s going to burst into flames, and wouldn’t Santana love the number of gay jokes she’d get out of that untimely demise. Kurt starts to laugh, but the sound comes out as a choked sort of ‘oh’ when Puck surges up and kisses him hard.
And that’s a little more like it, Kurt thinks as Puck’s hand clamps down hard on his hip to rock Kurt against him, grunting at each brush of Kurt’s erection against his own. It’s good, but they’re still wearing an awful lot of clothes, and even when Puck lets go long enough to ditch his shirt, his chest is still mostly covered by his undershirt.
Kurt lets out a frustrated whine and tugs Puck’s undershirt out of his pants, hands sliding across the taut skin stretched across his stomach and when he feels Puck tremble under his touch he gasps against Puck’s mouth. Because Kurt’s the one who should be kind of nervous here; he’s the one with no basis for comparison, and Puck’s the one with a whole host of notches in his proverbial bedpost.
But he’s been so careful with Kurt, like maybe he’s afraid to break him or something. At first Kurt just assumed Puck was out of his element once he found himself having feelings for another boy, but now he’s starting to think it’s because of Finn. It’s a weird thought to have while Puck’s rocking up against him and fucking Kurt’s mouth with his tongue -- and that is so against the rules -- but that doesn’t make it any less true.
Puck made a promise to Finn to look out for Kurt, and the falling in love part wasn’t in the original plan, but he’s still being careful out of some weird sense of loyalty to Kurt’s stepbrother. He’s trying not to hurt Kurt, and when he’s not just taking what he wants without worrying about who gets hurt along the way, he’s not really sure what to do.
The realization doesn’t make Kurt that much more confident about what he’s doing, and when he finally gets Puck out of his undershirt and he’s faced with a broad expanse of perfect skin, Kurt’s own stomach trembles. But it’s a weird sort of power trip too, because Puck’s rocking against him and pushing his hands up under Kurt’s clothes like he doesn’t have the patience to take them off the right way, and it’s all because of how much he wants Kurt.
Later Kurt won’t be able to say how they got out of the rest of their clothes, but that’s Puck’s area of expertise, so Kurt assumes he finally got with the program and helped out a little. All he knows is that one minute he’s tugging open enough buttons at his neck to pull his shirt right over his head, undershirt and all, and the next he’s flat on his back and their pants are gone and Puck’s kissing him like he’s making up for lost time.
Kurt’s hands are moving of their own accord, touching every inch of that perfect skin he can reach, kneading at Puck’s shoulders and sliding down his back to drag his fingernails back up either side of Puck’s spine. Puck’s thrusting against him, hips moving in an infuriatingly slow rhythm and Kurt pants against his mouth and digs his fingers in a little harder, hoping that Puck will get the message and pick up the pace a little.
His mouth leaves Kurt’s and then Puck’s looking down at him, grinning and grinding down until Kurt moans and slides a leg around Puck’s waist.
“Pushy,” Puck says, then he leans in again and presses a kiss to the side of Kurt’s neck. “I like it.”
Kurt thinks tease, but what he says is Noah, dragging the word out until it sounds raw and painful and dirty. Puck bucks a little harder against him and mouths his way along Kurt’s neck, using his tongue and sometimes his teeth to explore every inch of Kurt’s skin. When he hits a particularly sensitive spot he opens his mouth and sucks, and Kurt arches up into him and grips his shoulders hard.
He’s making needy little noises in the back of his throat, and he doesn’t even care that Puck’s going to leave a mark. He’ll take the punishment, whatever it is, for breaking the no hickey rule, and there’s no way they can prove Puck’s the one who gave it to him.
But Puck remembers the rule as soon as Kurt does, and he lets out a growl and pulls his mouth away from the side of Kurt’s neck. His hand slides under the thigh that’s wrapped around his waist, pulling Kurt’s leg up and pulling him open at the same time, settling a little further against him and matching the rhythm of Kurt’s hips.
Puck pushes up onto his hands to look at Kurt, elbows locked to hold him up and his pupils are blown so wide his eyes look black. Kurt arches up into him and digs his fingers into Puck’s arms, grasping for just a little more, just enough to pull them both over the edge. And Puck’s just watching, moving in time with Kurt but not giving him any more than he’s taking. It’s maddening, because Kurt doesn’t know what to ask for and even if he did he wouldn’t be able to say the words.
Puck’s waiting for him to ask; that much he’s sure of, and he doesn’t know anymore if it’s still because Puck’s scared to push too hard, or if he just likes making Kurt show him how much he wants Puck. Like he needs more proof of that. Like it was ever in question, even when Kurt was dating someone else and pretending he didn’t even like Puck. Which, okay, there was a time he wasn’t particularly fond of Puck, but even then he couldn't deny that Puck’s attractive.
He’s gorgeous, from the well-defined muscles to the perfect smile to the way he looks at Kurt, equal parts smoldering and vulnerable, open in a way Kurt’s never seen before. So it turns out love looks pretty good on him, which is no surprise, considering everything looks good on Puck.
Kurt presses up off the bed and kisses him again, tongue pushing past Puck’s teeth as he slides a hand between them and wraps his fingers around Puck’s cock. And yes, he’s heard the stories, most of which can’t be true just based on the laws of physics, but Kurt knows full well that most myths have a basis in fact, so he’s not surprised at all to discover that Noah Puckerman does, in fact, have quite a bit to offer.
He imagines wrapping his lips around Puck, wonders how far he could take Puck in before he chokes and has to resort to his hand, working Puck’s length the way he’s doing now while he uses his tongue and his mouth on the head of Puck’s dick. Not that he’s getting any complaints about his hand so far; Puck’s moaning into his mouth and thrusting into Kurt’s grip, and he’s sucking on Kurt’s tongue in a way that should be kind of gross, but mostly just makes Kurt want more and more and more.
Puck’s arms are still locked on either side of him, so Kurt feels it when they start to shake. He lets go of Puck and pushes on his chest until Puck slides onto the mattress next to him, pulling Kurt close and pressing their mouths together to murmur words Kurt can’t quite catch as Kurt reaches for him again.
Then Puck pulls his mouth away from Kurt’s long enough to lick his own palm, eyes locked on Kurt’s the entire time. Kurt watches the drag of Puck’s tongue along his own skin, imagines Puck’s mouth wrapped around him and tightens his grip. Puck groans and reaches between them to pull Kurt’s hand away, then he lines them up again and wraps his hand around both of them.
Kurt gasps and thrusts into Puck’s grip, earning himself a laugh that rumbles through Puck’s chest and sends heat all the way from the tips of Kurt’s ears down to his toes. He closes his own hand over Puck’s and matches his rhythm, using his thumb to spread drops of wet heat with each upstroke.
Puck’s talking again, forehead pressed against Kurt’s shoulder and mouthing words against his skin. It’s nonsense, mostly, but Kurt thinks he hears his own name a time or two, and it makes his heart pound even harder in his chest. He’s still fisting them both hard, hips moving faster and faster and pressing Kurt back into the mattress until Puck’s practically on top of him again.
Their hands are trapped between them and it’s a weird angle, but when Puck’s free hand slides under him to grip his ass and pull him up Kurt doesn’t really care if his arm’s going to hurt later. Puck’s fingers drag across his ass and Kurt’s not sure if he even means to do it, but Puck's opening him up all the same, and when Kurt imagines taking Puck inside him he gasps against Puck’s mouth and comes.
Puck follows a few seconds later, thrusting hard against him and panting against Kurt’s neck, his hand still gripping them loose and stroking through his orgasm. When he finally stops shaking Puck slides off Kurt and mouths his way back up Kurt’s neck, pressing soft kisses against his lips.
Kurt slides his arms around Puck’s neck and kisses him back, and if he holds on a little tighter than strictly necessary, Puck doesn’t mention it. Instead he reaches above them without looking, fumbling through the pile of clothes at the head of the bed until he finds his undershirt. He pulls away long enough to wipe both their stomachs clean, then wipes his hands on the wrecked shirt and tosses it on the floor.
When he’s finished he tugs down the covers they never bothered with and drags Kurt between the sheets with him, pulling him close and spooning and Kurt can’t help laughing.
“What?”
Puck’s voice is rough and sleepy and Kurt’s heart swells with a rush of affection. He slides his hand along the arm that’s around his waist until their fingers thread together, then he turns his head just far enough to brush his lips across Puck’s shoulder.
“I was just thinking what it would do to your reputation at McKinley if anyone there ever found out you’re a cuddler.”
He doesn’t hear Puck’s laugh so much as feel it, and when warm lips brush the back of his neck Kurt presses back into Puck’s body heat.
“Yeah, well, I go to Dalton now, so it doesn’t matter what anybody at McKinley thinks.”
The arm around Kurt’s waist tightens for a second or two, like maybe he’s trying to prove some kind of point, then he relaxes and Kurt closes his eyes and listens to Puck breathe until he falls asleep.
~
“How are you going to play baseball and sing in the show choir, anyway?” Kurt asks, frowning down at Puck where he’s stretched out on the grass next to Kurt.
They’re spending Sunday out on the quad, textbooks open around them but neither of them has made much headway on any of their homework. Kurt knows he’s going to pay for that tomorrow, but the past two days are the happiest he can ever remember being, and he wants to hold onto that feeling for as long as he can.
Besides, it’s finally warm enough to sit out on the quad all afternoon, and that means they've only got a little over a month left before they’re done for the year. When he transferred to Dalton he didn’t think much about what happened at the end of the year, when he had to go back to Lima for nearly three solid months.
He tried not to think about going back to Lima, because even though he wasn't going back to McKinley, he was going back to familiar faces and the same old patterns and listening to his friends fill him in on gossip he didn't want to know about people he’d just as soon forget existed. He’d thought at the time that none of his friends knew the real reason he left, and that’s still mostly true. But Puck knows, and Finn knows and even Rachel, and Kurt thinks he might even tell Mercedes and Tina when he gets home.
It’s still not something he likes to remember, but it’s a little easier to think about these days, so maybe he’ll be able to talk about it someday too. Not that there’s much to say, and anyway he has better things to talk about lately.
Puck blinks against the sunlight and tilts his head to look up at Kurt, and his smile looks kind of weird from this angle, but Kurt leans over and kisses him anyway. Puck’s hand lands on the back of his neck, fingers warm on Kurt’s skin where he pushes them under the collar of Kurt’s blazer.
His own blazer is lying on the grass beside him, shirtsleeves rolled up and he never even bothered with his tie this morning. Every time Kurt looks at him he thinks the word ‘debauched’, and he grins and presses one last kiss to Puck’s bottom lip before he sits up again.
“I haven’t even made the baseball team yet, babe.”
“You will,” Kurt says with exactly as much confidence as he feels. “I saw you out there, Noah. You were better than anybody else.”
“You’re pretty good for my ego, Hummel.”
“Please, like you’ve ever needed help with your ego,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes as Puck laughs and turns onto his side to push himself up on one elbow.
“I talked to the coach before I tried out,” Puck says, still grinning and Kurt can’t decide if it’s annoying or just annoyingly charming. “He said it should be cool. The athletics department works with the other extracurriculars to make sure nobody overlaps any more than they have to, and Glee doesn’t travel all that much on weekends. So if I have to miss a game or two during the season, it’s not the end of the world.”
Kurt tries to imagine anyone at McKinley being that flexible about working with the Glee club’s schedule. Then he pictures Coach Sylvester’s head actually exploding, and that’s a little easier to visualize.
“Really?”
“That's what I said. I mean, it’s Glee, right? But they take it pretty serious here. Guess all the trophies probably help with that.”
“I guess.”
It’s not the first time since he transferred that Kurt’s had the urge to pinch himself. It’s not even the first time this weekend, but he has a feeling it’s going to keep happening for awhile, maybe even until they graduate and have to figure out what to do with the rest of their lives. And Kurt knows that decision is closer than he’d like it to be, because he’s finally happy for the first time and he wants it to last.
But they’ve still got the summer, and the few times the subject’s come up so far Puck’s made it sound like it’s a given that they’ll be spending as much of it as possible together. And next year they can drive themselves back to school, which means they'll have a readily available means of escaping the antiquated rules on campus once in awhile.
They’ve got a whole year ahead of them to be Kurt and Noah, whatever that means, and after that...well, he’s not going to worry about it until he has to.