Acceptance [Glee, Puck/Kurt]
[-]
Puck is waiting for him when he steps out of the showers. The way the other guy is looking at him-eyes dark and narrowed-makes his hands fly up to cover his exposed chest, even though he feels ridiculous doing so. His heart begins to pound in trepidation (and maybe something a little bit more than that, but he pushes that unsavory thought aside) when he notices Puck is standing right beside his neatly folded clothes.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gestures to his clothes. “Are you holding them hostage?” He hopes not, because god knows what his demands might be.
Puck ignores the question, crosses his arms, and says, “Don’t think that because you can kick, I’m going to think of you as anything more than what you are.”
“And what am I?”
“A tiny, annoying, flaming-”
“I’m not gay,” Kurt interjects-an instinctive response.
Puck arches an eyebrow and looks amused; Kurt can feel the tips of his ears burning. “You think I’m an idiot?”
Despite the embarrassment, Kurt manages to give him a look that means that’s exactly what he thinks. Puck rolls his eyes and uncrosses his arms, straightening up in a way that Kurt hopes means he’s about to leave.
“Whatever. Just know that’s what I think, and that’s never going to change.”
He does leave, and Kurt is free to lower his hands and get his clothes, but he isn’t nearly as relieved as he probably should be.
[-]
Kurt hangs around in the room after rehearsal as everyone else leaves. Puck doesn’t rush out, either; he probably hears Kurt kindly turning down Mercedes’ offer to go to the mall, and realizes that probably means something. He sits and tunes his guitar, silent as the others file out, and Kurt hates the way he makes him feel so nervous without even doing anything.
“So.” Kurt stands before him when they’re alone, and he’s trying his best to look and sound intimidating. “Don’t think that because you can sing and dance, I’m going to think you’re anything other than an empty-headed jock.”
Puck smirks slightly, and this definitely isn’t the reaction Kurt wants, so he continues, “I mean, you’re certainly no Gene Kelly.”
Puck has a blank look on his face as he blinks up in confusion. “Who?”
Kurt is very much aware that he’s gaping like a fish and that probably isn’t terribly attractive (not that he needs to be attractive for Puck), but he doesn’t too much care. He’s far too appalled. He shakes his head and leaves the room, muttering incredulously, and Puck simply follows, strumming idly on his guitar.
[-]
Now that he sees Puck all the time, Kurt starts to notice the little things.
He sees the way Puck downs at least half of the Slushies before he throws the rest on Rachel. He sees the way Puck’s starting to throw the cherry flavored ones at her only when he’s having a bad morning, because cherry is his favorite flavor.
He’s equally horrified and enamored with the nipple ring. (“Could you be any more archetypal?” he asks, and almost chokes on his laughter when Puck replies, “I’m not sure what that means, but I probably could be.”)
He notices a paperback copy Watership Down in his locker when he happens to be passing by, and he knows it isn’t for English class.
He hears him hum James Morrison songs under his breath when he thinks no one else is listening.
He realizes that he might be a little bit into him, and it’s hard to accept, but he thinks that maybe he can.
[-]
Puck is sitting across from him at a table in the school library when they exchange their first confessions. They’re both listening to “Somebody to Love” on their iPods in preparation for rehearsal. Kurt’s fingers drum out the melody on the tabletop and he finds himself watching Puck’s lips as he forms the words, “can anybody find me…” It gives him a funny, fluttery feeling in his chest that intensifies when he sees Puck is looking at him with that dark, narrowed stare again.
“What?” He mouths the question and Puck taps at his own earbuds before taking them out; Kurt hesitates only a second before doing the same.
“You know,” Puck starts, and Kurt waits for something insulting to follow, “you aren’t completely annoying.”
Kurt’s lips part in surprise, but he makes an effort to make sure it’s in an attractive, non-fishlike manner. Puck looks at him expectantly, so he offers with just a touch of good-natured teasing, “Well, you aren’t completely empty-headed.”
Puck arches an eyebrow and smirks slightly and puts his earbuds back in. And Kurt knows that this is an Important Moment that’s just disguised itself as a couple of random near-compliments, and it’s quite possibly the beginning of something long and difficult and wonderful, and it isn’t as hard to accept that as it probably should be.
Puck is waiting for him when he steps out of the showers. The way the other guy is looking at him-eyes dark and narrowed-makes his hands fly up to cover his exposed chest, even though he feels ridiculous doing so. His heart begins to pound in trepidation (and maybe something a little bit more than that, but he pushes that unsavory thought aside) when he notices Puck is standing right beside his neatly folded clothes.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gestures to his clothes. “Are you holding them hostage?” He hopes not, because god knows what his demands might be.
Puck ignores the question, crosses his arms, and says, “Don’t think that because you can kick, I’m going to think of you as anything more than what you are.”
“And what am I?”
“A tiny, annoying, flaming-”
“I’m not gay,” Kurt interjects-an instinctive response.
Puck arches an eyebrow and looks amused; Kurt can feel the tips of his ears burning. “You think I’m an idiot?”
Despite the embarrassment, Kurt manages to give him a look that means that’s exactly what he thinks. Puck rolls his eyes and uncrosses his arms, straightening up in a way that Kurt hopes means he’s about to leave.
“Whatever. Just know that’s what I think, and that’s never going to change.”
He does leave, and Kurt is free to lower his hands and get his clothes, but he isn’t nearly as relieved as he probably should be.
[-]
Kurt hangs around in the room after rehearsal as everyone else leaves. Puck doesn’t rush out, either; he probably hears Kurt kindly turning down Mercedes’ offer to go to the mall, and realizes that probably means something. He sits and tunes his guitar, silent as the others file out, and Kurt hates the way he makes him feel so nervous without even doing anything.
“So.” Kurt stands before him when they’re alone, and he’s trying his best to look and sound intimidating. “Don’t think that because you can sing and dance, I’m going to think you’re anything other than an empty-headed jock.”
Puck smirks slightly, and this definitely isn’t the reaction Kurt wants, so he continues, “I mean, you’re certainly no Gene Kelly.”
Puck has a blank look on his face as he blinks up in confusion. “Who?”
Kurt is very much aware that he’s gaping like a fish and that probably isn’t terribly attractive (not that he needs to be attractive for Puck), but he doesn’t too much care. He’s far too appalled. He shakes his head and leaves the room, muttering incredulously, and Puck simply follows, strumming idly on his guitar.
[-]
Now that he sees Puck all the time, Kurt starts to notice the little things.
He sees the way Puck downs at least half of the Slushies before he throws the rest on Rachel. He sees the way Puck’s starting to throw the cherry flavored ones at her only when he’s having a bad morning, because cherry is his favorite flavor.
He’s equally horrified and enamored with the nipple ring. (“Could you be any more archetypal?” he asks, and almost chokes on his laughter when Puck replies, “I’m not sure what that means, but I probably could be.”)
He notices a paperback copy Watership Down in his locker when he happens to be passing by, and he knows it isn’t for English class.
He hears him hum James Morrison songs under his breath when he thinks no one else is listening.
He realizes that he might be a little bit into him, and it’s hard to accept, but he thinks that maybe he can.
[-]
Puck is sitting across from him at a table in the school library when they exchange their first confessions. They’re both listening to “Somebody to Love” on their iPods in preparation for rehearsal. Kurt’s fingers drum out the melody on the tabletop and he finds himself watching Puck’s lips as he forms the words, “can anybody find me…” It gives him a funny, fluttery feeling in his chest that intensifies when he sees Puck is looking at him with that dark, narrowed stare again.
“What?” He mouths the question and Puck taps at his own earbuds before taking them out; Kurt hesitates only a second before doing the same.
“You know,” Puck starts, and Kurt waits for something insulting to follow, “you aren’t completely annoying.”
Kurt’s lips part in surprise, but he makes an effort to make sure it’s in an attractive, non-fishlike manner. Puck looks at him expectantly, so he offers with just a touch of good-natured teasing, “Well, you aren’t completely empty-headed.”
Puck arches an eyebrow and smirks slightly and puts his earbuds back in. And Kurt knows that this is an Important Moment that’s just disguised itself as a couple of random near-compliments, and it’s quite possibly the beginning of something long and difficult and wonderful, and it isn’t as hard to accept that as it probably should be.