Clothes make the man, and I want to make you mine, Puck/Kurt, PG-13
Title: Clothes make the man, and I want to make you mine
Author: Merle
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Puck/Kurt, mention of one-sided Kurt/a lot of people
Word Count: 1880
Spoilers: Mostly for 1.15
Disclaimer: Glee belongs to FOX. Kurt belongs to Puck. At least, that's what Puck wants to believe.
Warnings: Language, slightly crack-ish
Summary: “I was kind of hoping that I'd just ended up in a parallel universe where the geeks are the bad guys. Because at least, that would explain why all the jocks are suddenly behaving so horrifyingly nice!”
A/N: This was written for the fic fest at puckurt. The prompt was: Kurt's sexy little Cheerio routine turns the entire school gay for him (well, bicurious). Suddenly every jock starts to wonder what it be like to do him. Puck, who actually was wondering before, thank you very much for asking, needs to hurry if he wants to win Kurt over. Bonus points for Karofski being extra sweet.
Clothes make the man, and I want to make you mine
The first time it happens is when someone bumps into Kurt in the hallway after second period, causing him to drop his bag. It bursts open, all his stuff spilling out over the floor, and Kurt wants to scream, but instead he just clenches his teeth and gets down on his knees, starting to recollect pencils and books and chewing gum and lip gloss, and … and then there’s suddenly another hand in his field of view, pushing scattered papers together into a tidy stack.
Kurt’s gaze snaps up, and he finds himself face to face with former kicker Philipp Langenthal, looking embarrassed and awkward when he holds up the papers for Kurt to take.
“Thank you,” Kurt says, surprised, and Langenthal actually blushes before he quickly pushes himself up from the floor and flees down the hallway, leaving Kurt to stare after him in confusion.
The second time is during lunch break, and Kurt is picking at his salad while discussing with Mercedes the pros and cons of ankle boots when Dave Karofsky walks by with his tray, hesitating when he passes their table.
Kurt interrupts himself to look up at him warily. “Yeah?” he asks, in what he thinks is a completely polite and neutral tone, but Karofsky looks like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him, anyway.
“Uhm - nice uniform,” he stammers awkwardly. Kurt looks down at himself, and yes, he is wearing his new Cheerios uniform, which he does think looks good on him, but he's hardly the only one at school in that outfit.
“Thank you?” he says hesitantly, looking up again to make sure that Karofsky is not about to ruin said uniform with a red XXL-sized slushie. But Karofsky just smiles at him, fleetingly, weakly, before he turns around and walks away, over to the table where his jock friends are waiting.
“What the hell was that about?” Mercedes asks, fork poised mid-air, staring after the hockey player as if he had just done an impromptu musical number on their table. Although that would have been a lot less weird.
Kurt shakes his head in the futile attempt to clear it. “I honestly have no idea.”
After that, it’s starting to become a pattern. On Wednesday, Mike Chang holds open a door for him when he sees Kurt struggling with his bag, his jacket and a stack of books. On Friday, basketball star and senior Benny Simpson scares Kurt half to death when he suddenly pops up next to him after last period and asks him if he needs a ride. The Tuesday after that, Matt hands over a half-empty bag of Reese’s Pieces during math and only takes it back after making sure that Kurt has actually grabbed a fistful.
At least he does it without saying a word. If he had suddenly started speaking, Kurt would have totally freaked out.
“You are not going to slushie me, are you?” Kurt asks suspiciously when he meets up with Mercedes in the parking lot after school.
“Why on earth would I slushie you?” Mercedes asks, and she looks like she's about to put a hand on his forehead to feel his temperature, so Kurt hurries to take a step back.
“I don't know!” he cries, more than just a little upset. “Something is seriously wrong here, and honestly, I was kind of hoping that I'd just ended up in a parallel universe where the geeks are the bad guys. Because at least, that would explain why all the jocks are suddenly behaving so horrifyingly nice!”
Mercedes chews on her lower lip and nods thoughtfully. “Mmh,” she says. “I think Karofsky complimenting your outfit was kind of the cherry on top of the cake.”
“Cherry? Cake? Don't make it sound like it's actually a good thing!” Kurt hisses, waving his arms angrily. “This is ridiculous. Michael Jefferson gave me flowers today. Flowers! They clearly have gone insane. All of them.”
“It's just you they treat differently though” Mercedes replies. “They gave Artie the sharpie mustache this morning, and Tina was slushied twice yesterday.”
Kurt groans, raising his arms to the skies in despair. “It's been going on for a week. I don't think I can take much more of this. I wish someone would feel the urge to cover my body in sharpie doodles, really, I do.”
“If you say it like that, it sounds dirty,” Mercedes complains, and then takes his hand. “Come on, let's go do some shopping. It will take your mind off things.”
When Kurt pulls into the school parking lot the next morning, wearing his brand new tight boxer briefs under his cheerleading uniform, he's got the faint hope that things have gone back to normal, because there are three members of the hockey team waiting for him in his usual spot. For the first time in his life, he almost looks forward to the trip to the garbage bin. Whatever, he has wanted to try that free dry-cleaning service for Miss Sylvester's cheerleaders anyway.
Instead of escorting him to the dumpster, however, the guys almost fall over themselves in their eagerness to open his door and help him out of the car. Kurt would very much like to use his messenger bag and hit them hard over their stupid heads, but he's too terrified by the recent course of events to do anything except pull a face that he hopes looks vaguely like a grateful smile.
He goes to get his hairspray, because he desperately needs a dose of toxic fumes to calm him down. When he opens his locker, there's a box of chocolates on top of the old Vogue issues, topped up with a fucking Hallmark card. He sighs and knocks his head against the nearest locker door, wondering if his father would allow him to switch schools if he tells him that he's being stalked by over forty big, muscular boys in varsity jackets.
Behind him, someone clears their throat, and Kurt turns around to come face to face with Puck, who's carrying an uncomfortable expression and a super-sized slushie cup in his right hand. Kurt has never been so relieved to see Noah Puckerman's dour face.
“Thank God,” he breathes, closes his eyes, tilts up his head, and waits for the inevitable impact of frozen water on his soft, tender, 100 percent comedo-free skin.
“Uhm, Kurt?” Puck says, sounding actually worried, and Kurt carefully opens one eye to take a peak. Puck doesn't look like he's about to empty the cup in someone's face, so Kurt feels safe enough to open the other eye as well.
“What are you doing?” Puck asks. Kurt stares.
“Waiting for you to slushie me?”
“Uhm,” Puck says, shuffling awkwardly. “Actually, I was wondering if maybe you might be thirsty?”
He holds out the cup hesitantly, and Kurt loses his patience.
“Not you too!” he cries accusingly. When Puck just stares at him, he takes a deep breath and makes a decision.
“This is enough”, he says, takes the slushie from Puck's pliant fingers and hands it over to the next person that walks by. Then he fists a hand in the front of Puck's shirt and pulls him into the restroom behind him. The fact that Puck doesn't even put up a fight scares him more than anything else.
“Okay, what the hell is going on here?” Kurt hisses as soon as the restroom door has closed behind them. He takes a quick look to make sure that all the stalls are empty, because seriously, he doesn't want another basketball player to surprise him by spontaneously breaking into song while pulling up his zipper.
“What do you mean?” Puck frowns, but he waits patiently until Kurt has finished his inspection.
“This!” Kurt shouts, his gesture compassing everything from the disgusting restroom they are hiding in to the pack of high school jocks that is probably waiting outside the door to torture him further with romance and gentle smiles.
“What is going on with you guys?! Last month, people broke into my locker to set my school books on fire, now they break the lock to put chocolates in it! Tanner put his arm around my shoulders when he walked me to class this morning! I mean, have you seen him? That guy is, like, eight feet tall, he practically had to walk on his knees! And now you? Really, I had thought that your asshole-ishness was the one thing I could rely on even if the world ended!”
“Uhm,” Puck says and wrings his hands. He looks nervous. “It's the uniform.”
“Excuse me, what?” Kurt asks. His rant has left him breathless, and kind of light-headed.
“The ...” Puck swallows. “The uniform. Uhm. Without all those ... clothes ... “ His hands shape a form that could be a burka or a Santa Claus costume, Kurt isn't sure. “God, Hummel,” Puck finally bursts out. “Do you have any idea how hot you look in this thing?”
Kurt blinks. “You think I look - hot?”
“Duh?” Puck makes. “What do you think why all those assholes have been following you around like love-sick puppies? They all want to bend you over the next desk and fuck you into oblivion. Haven't you seen them drooling? They can barely keep themselves from humping the floor.”
“Oh,” Kurt makes faintly. He wonders idly if he's going to be sick. “So ... do you also want to ... uhm ... fuck me into oblivion?”
Puck raises an eyebrow. “Well, I thought I'd take you out for dinner first? Wait till the third - okay, second date? You seem like the romantic type.” His smirk is almost familiar, albeit more soft and hopeful than Kurt is strictly comfortable with. “So what do you think?”
To be honest, Kurt thinks that this has to be a really bad dream that he's going to wake up from any second now. Hopefully before his second date with Noah Puckerman comes to an end.
“Uhm,” he says. “If I ... if I agreed to go out with you ...” He chooses to ignore the victorious fist pump Puck performs. “If I agreed to go out with you ... would that keep the others off my back?”
Puck looks almost offended. “Dude”, he says. “I wouldn't let any of those gorillas put their dirty fingers on what's mine.”
“Fine,” Kurt says. He is not excited. This is merely a question of choosing the lesser evil, nothing else. “What are you doing tonight?”
After ten dates and several make-out sessions in Kurt's car (that give him the opportunity to take advantage of the free dry-cleaning, after all); after he's been fucked into near-unconsciousness over more than one desk at school and enjoyed the rare privilege to watch Puck come to blows with Benny Simpson over Kurt's virtue (not that there's much of that left at that point), Kurt decides that maybe dating Noah Puckerman isn't quite so bad after all.
Especially since he has discovered that Puck likes him out of his uniform just as much as in it.
And if it means that Dave Karofsky blushes every time he passes Kurt in the hallway - well, Kurt thinks he can live with that.
Author: Merle
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Puck/Kurt, mention of one-sided Kurt/a lot of people
Word Count: 1880
Spoilers: Mostly for 1.15
Disclaimer: Glee belongs to FOX. Kurt belongs to Puck. At least, that's what Puck wants to believe.
Warnings: Language, slightly crack-ish
Summary: “I was kind of hoping that I'd just ended up in a parallel universe where the geeks are the bad guys. Because at least, that would explain why all the jocks are suddenly behaving so horrifyingly nice!”
A/N: This was written for the fic fest at puckurt. The prompt was: Kurt's sexy little Cheerio routine turns the entire school gay for him (well, bicurious). Suddenly every jock starts to wonder what it be like to do him. Puck, who actually was wondering before, thank you very much for asking, needs to hurry if he wants to win Kurt over. Bonus points for Karofski being extra sweet.
Clothes make the man, and I want to make you mine
The first time it happens is when someone bumps into Kurt in the hallway after second period, causing him to drop his bag. It bursts open, all his stuff spilling out over the floor, and Kurt wants to scream, but instead he just clenches his teeth and gets down on his knees, starting to recollect pencils and books and chewing gum and lip gloss, and … and then there’s suddenly another hand in his field of view, pushing scattered papers together into a tidy stack.
Kurt’s gaze snaps up, and he finds himself face to face with former kicker Philipp Langenthal, looking embarrassed and awkward when he holds up the papers for Kurt to take.
“Thank you,” Kurt says, surprised, and Langenthal actually blushes before he quickly pushes himself up from the floor and flees down the hallway, leaving Kurt to stare after him in confusion.
The second time is during lunch break, and Kurt is picking at his salad while discussing with Mercedes the pros and cons of ankle boots when Dave Karofsky walks by with his tray, hesitating when he passes their table.
Kurt interrupts himself to look up at him warily. “Yeah?” he asks, in what he thinks is a completely polite and neutral tone, but Karofsky looks like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him, anyway.
“Uhm - nice uniform,” he stammers awkwardly. Kurt looks down at himself, and yes, he is wearing his new Cheerios uniform, which he does think looks good on him, but he's hardly the only one at school in that outfit.
“Thank you?” he says hesitantly, looking up again to make sure that Karofsky is not about to ruin said uniform with a red XXL-sized slushie. But Karofsky just smiles at him, fleetingly, weakly, before he turns around and walks away, over to the table where his jock friends are waiting.
“What the hell was that about?” Mercedes asks, fork poised mid-air, staring after the hockey player as if he had just done an impromptu musical number on their table. Although that would have been a lot less weird.
Kurt shakes his head in the futile attempt to clear it. “I honestly have no idea.”
After that, it’s starting to become a pattern. On Wednesday, Mike Chang holds open a door for him when he sees Kurt struggling with his bag, his jacket and a stack of books. On Friday, basketball star and senior Benny Simpson scares Kurt half to death when he suddenly pops up next to him after last period and asks him if he needs a ride. The Tuesday after that, Matt hands over a half-empty bag of Reese’s Pieces during math and only takes it back after making sure that Kurt has actually grabbed a fistful.
At least he does it without saying a word. If he had suddenly started speaking, Kurt would have totally freaked out.
“You are not going to slushie me, are you?” Kurt asks suspiciously when he meets up with Mercedes in the parking lot after school.
“Why on earth would I slushie you?” Mercedes asks, and she looks like she's about to put a hand on his forehead to feel his temperature, so Kurt hurries to take a step back.
“I don't know!” he cries, more than just a little upset. “Something is seriously wrong here, and honestly, I was kind of hoping that I'd just ended up in a parallel universe where the geeks are the bad guys. Because at least, that would explain why all the jocks are suddenly behaving so horrifyingly nice!”
Mercedes chews on her lower lip and nods thoughtfully. “Mmh,” she says. “I think Karofsky complimenting your outfit was kind of the cherry on top of the cake.”
“Cherry? Cake? Don't make it sound like it's actually a good thing!” Kurt hisses, waving his arms angrily. “This is ridiculous. Michael Jefferson gave me flowers today. Flowers! They clearly have gone insane. All of them.”
“It's just you they treat differently though” Mercedes replies. “They gave Artie the sharpie mustache this morning, and Tina was slushied twice yesterday.”
Kurt groans, raising his arms to the skies in despair. “It's been going on for a week. I don't think I can take much more of this. I wish someone would feel the urge to cover my body in sharpie doodles, really, I do.”
“If you say it like that, it sounds dirty,” Mercedes complains, and then takes his hand. “Come on, let's go do some shopping. It will take your mind off things.”
When Kurt pulls into the school parking lot the next morning, wearing his brand new tight boxer briefs under his cheerleading uniform, he's got the faint hope that things have gone back to normal, because there are three members of the hockey team waiting for him in his usual spot. For the first time in his life, he almost looks forward to the trip to the garbage bin. Whatever, he has wanted to try that free dry-cleaning service for Miss Sylvester's cheerleaders anyway.
Instead of escorting him to the dumpster, however, the guys almost fall over themselves in their eagerness to open his door and help him out of the car. Kurt would very much like to use his messenger bag and hit them hard over their stupid heads, but he's too terrified by the recent course of events to do anything except pull a face that he hopes looks vaguely like a grateful smile.
He goes to get his hairspray, because he desperately needs a dose of toxic fumes to calm him down. When he opens his locker, there's a box of chocolates on top of the old Vogue issues, topped up with a fucking Hallmark card. He sighs and knocks his head against the nearest locker door, wondering if his father would allow him to switch schools if he tells him that he's being stalked by over forty big, muscular boys in varsity jackets.
Behind him, someone clears their throat, and Kurt turns around to come face to face with Puck, who's carrying an uncomfortable expression and a super-sized slushie cup in his right hand. Kurt has never been so relieved to see Noah Puckerman's dour face.
“Thank God,” he breathes, closes his eyes, tilts up his head, and waits for the inevitable impact of frozen water on his soft, tender, 100 percent comedo-free skin.
“Uhm, Kurt?” Puck says, sounding actually worried, and Kurt carefully opens one eye to take a peak. Puck doesn't look like he's about to empty the cup in someone's face, so Kurt feels safe enough to open the other eye as well.
“What are you doing?” Puck asks. Kurt stares.
“Waiting for you to slushie me?”
“Uhm,” Puck says, shuffling awkwardly. “Actually, I was wondering if maybe you might be thirsty?”
He holds out the cup hesitantly, and Kurt loses his patience.
“Not you too!” he cries accusingly. When Puck just stares at him, he takes a deep breath and makes a decision.
“This is enough”, he says, takes the slushie from Puck's pliant fingers and hands it over to the next person that walks by. Then he fists a hand in the front of Puck's shirt and pulls him into the restroom behind him. The fact that Puck doesn't even put up a fight scares him more than anything else.
“Okay, what the hell is going on here?” Kurt hisses as soon as the restroom door has closed behind them. He takes a quick look to make sure that all the stalls are empty, because seriously, he doesn't want another basketball player to surprise him by spontaneously breaking into song while pulling up his zipper.
“What do you mean?” Puck frowns, but he waits patiently until Kurt has finished his inspection.
“This!” Kurt shouts, his gesture compassing everything from the disgusting restroom they are hiding in to the pack of high school jocks that is probably waiting outside the door to torture him further with romance and gentle smiles.
“What is going on with you guys?! Last month, people broke into my locker to set my school books on fire, now they break the lock to put chocolates in it! Tanner put his arm around my shoulders when he walked me to class this morning! I mean, have you seen him? That guy is, like, eight feet tall, he practically had to walk on his knees! And now you? Really, I had thought that your asshole-ishness was the one thing I could rely on even if the world ended!”
“Uhm,” Puck says and wrings his hands. He looks nervous. “It's the uniform.”
“Excuse me, what?” Kurt asks. His rant has left him breathless, and kind of light-headed.
“The ...” Puck swallows. “The uniform. Uhm. Without all those ... clothes ... “ His hands shape a form that could be a burka or a Santa Claus costume, Kurt isn't sure. “God, Hummel,” Puck finally bursts out. “Do you have any idea how hot you look in this thing?”
Kurt blinks. “You think I look - hot?”
“Duh?” Puck makes. “What do you think why all those assholes have been following you around like love-sick puppies? They all want to bend you over the next desk and fuck you into oblivion. Haven't you seen them drooling? They can barely keep themselves from humping the floor.”
“Oh,” Kurt makes faintly. He wonders idly if he's going to be sick. “So ... do you also want to ... uhm ... fuck me into oblivion?”
Puck raises an eyebrow. “Well, I thought I'd take you out for dinner first? Wait till the third - okay, second date? You seem like the romantic type.” His smirk is almost familiar, albeit more soft and hopeful than Kurt is strictly comfortable with. “So what do you think?”
To be honest, Kurt thinks that this has to be a really bad dream that he's going to wake up from any second now. Hopefully before his second date with Noah Puckerman comes to an end.
“Uhm,” he says. “If I ... if I agreed to go out with you ...” He chooses to ignore the victorious fist pump Puck performs. “If I agreed to go out with you ... would that keep the others off my back?”
Puck looks almost offended. “Dude”, he says. “I wouldn't let any of those gorillas put their dirty fingers on what's mine.”
“Fine,” Kurt says. He is not excited. This is merely a question of choosing the lesser evil, nothing else. “What are you doing tonight?”
After ten dates and several make-out sessions in Kurt's car (that give him the opportunity to take advantage of the free dry-cleaning, after all); after he's been fucked into near-unconsciousness over more than one desk at school and enjoyed the rare privilege to watch Puck come to blows with Benny Simpson over Kurt's virtue (not that there's much of that left at that point), Kurt decides that maybe dating Noah Puckerman isn't quite so bad after all.
Especially since he has discovered that Puck likes him out of his uniform just as much as in it.
And if it means that Dave Karofsky blushes every time he passes Kurt in the hallway - well, Kurt thinks he can live with that.