Fic: At the End of the Day (2 of 2)
Title: At the end of the day (2 of 2)
Author: pterawaters
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s) : Kurt, Puck, Finn, Azimio, Blaine, Karofsky; Puck/Kurt, a little Kurt/Blaine, mentions Puck/Karofsky and Puck/OCs
Genre: Humor, Romance
Warning: Homophobia
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine. At all.
Author Notes: This was written for the fic I didn’t write challenge, for naryakiuxen's prompt. It’s a college-fic that’s AU, wherein Kurt and Puck have yet to meet. This part really deserved more time than I could devote to it, but it’s finished (and very unbeta’d). Yay!
Summary: Puck is sure that, if he doesn't do as his friends dared him to and makes out Hummel he is going to regret it, one way or another.
Word Count: 5400 (part 2) | 9000 total
Part 1
Part 2
Puck sat, speechless, in his chair until Finn came back, knocking on his own door and peeking in like he wasn’t quite sure what would be going on. Well, if Puck had his way, he would currently have been dry humping Kurt on Finn’s futon and sucking hickeys into that pale skin on his neck. Instead, he was sitting here with a slowly flagging erection and no idea what to do next.
If he gave in to Kurt’s demands, there was a big chance that someone would see him dating a dude and then word would spread across campus like wildfire. Puck’s picture would be in the school paper again, this time not in the sports section, but the gossip section. He’d never be able to hook up with another co-ed until he graduated and moved out of the fucking state.
But on the other hand, he’d just spent the hottest two minutes of his life (well, clothed life, anyway) and he would be a fucking idiot to pass that up. Right? Right.
So when Finn asked, “Really ripped you a new one, didn’t he?” Puck couldn’t help but laugh. “What?” Finn asked, concern spread all over his dopey face. “What happened?”
“He asked me out,” Puck replied with another laugh. “He fucking asked me out!”
“What?!” Finn cried in disbelief. “I can’t - I mean he said… What?”
Sparing a quick look for his friend, Puck heaved himself out of his chair as he said, “Don’t hurt yourself there, dude.” Making sure he had all his shit, Puck abandoned Finn there, laughing a little at the guy’s confused face, and went back to his room, ready to start planning the first date. And hey, if there wasn’t going to be making out, Puck could totally have some of that awesome garlic bread at the little Italian place down the street without having to be self-conscious about it.
Despite the rumors that were sure to hound him following this whole bet debacle, Puck found himself really looking forward to dating Kurt Hummel.
~~**~~
Kurt thought things had been going well. After breaking up with Blaine and ignoring Finn’s concerned calls, he got Puck to pick him up from the lobby of his dorm and walk him to the Italian restaurant just off campus that they had agreed to go to. Kurt kept his cool and conversation was actually moving along despite many shared interests ... until Blaine decided to show up.
And Kurt's ex didn't just show up. He came with the entire undergraduate male a capella group backing him as he broke into song.
"I've been a bad, bad girl,
I've been careless with a delicate man!"
From the first note, Kurt recognized Blaine's singing voice and felt his face turn deep red. What the hell did he think he was doing? Kurt had made it perfectly clear that they were breaking up and that Kurt intended on seeing other people, namely Puck, who was sitting across the table. His expression turned from surprised to downright pissed when he realized that Kurt was the one being serenaded, but at least he looked pissed at Blaine and not Kurt.
"I'm so, so sorry," Kurt insisted to Puck, shooting Blaine the bitchiest glare he was capable of. "I don't know how he found out about our date."
"And it's a sad, sad world,
When a girl will break a boy,
Just because she can!"
Blaine had danced his way up to Kurt, kneeling in front of him, like he was begging for another chance, so Kurt crossed his arms in front of his chest and asked over the Warblers' back-up vocals, "How is this song even relevant? I broke up with you!"
Unperturbed, Blaine continued, a smile on his too-perfect face.
"Don’t you tell me to deny it,
I’ve done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins.”
Kurt scoffed at the way he’d unintentionally played into the lyrics before sending Puck a look that he hoped said either, “Help!” or “I’m so embarrassed, just kill me now.”
"I’ve come to you ‘cause I need
Guidance to be true and I
Just don’t know where I can begin.”
“You can begin by getting out of our faces,” Puck insisted, and he seemed to be concerned about the amount of attention Blaine’s little stunt was drawing. Before Kurt could apologize again, Puck had thrown down some cash from his wallet and grabbed Kurt’s hand, pulling him in a frenzied, but actually kind of fun escape from the restaurant while Blaine sang after them, “Because he’s all I’ve ever known of love!”
After running for a good block or two in his dress shoes, Kurt pulled on Puck’s hand, telling him, “I think we’ve escaped!” while trying to breathe and laugh at the same time.
Eyes bright with laughter in the light of the sandwich shop beside them, Puck grinned, “No wonder you broke up with that douchebag. He do stuff like that often?”
“Unfortunately,” Kurt nodded, running his tongue around his teeth in an effort to moisten up his mouth, which was getting dry with the effort to breathe through the exertion he was unaccustomed to. Kurt was definitely more of a yoga man than a running man. “I used to think it was attractive.”
Puck laughed again before bringing his free hand (Kurt just noticed that he was still clutching Puck’s other hand tightly, not wanting to let go) up to Kurt’s face and brushing the backs of his knuckles against Kurt’s cheek. “You look good like this,” Puck said, his voice oozing confidence and sex. “Flustered. Flushed.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. This was supposed to be about Kurt getting control over his dating life, not getting swept up in stupid romantic gestures again. The hitch in his breath and that warm feeling low in his gut didn’t mean anything. They couldn’t.
Before the football player could lean in and kiss him, Kurt let go of his hand and stepped back, saying, “Thanks for the date. I-I’m sorry it got ruined.” As he backed away, narrowly missing another pedestrian, Kurt told Puck, “I’m free again on Friday. You come up with something good, I’ll take care of banishing annoying exes.”
And then he fled, feeling not at all in control (more like a breathless teenager just leaving his first date with a boy, ever) but remarkably happy, all the same.
~~**~~
When Puck got to the locker room the next afternoon for practice, Azimio was waiting for him, holding out a printed sheet from some website or whatever. “Well, look what we got here, boys,” he said, keeping his eyes with Puck like he might try to bolt or something. “Puckerman’s taking this bet way too seriously.”
Frowning at the guy, Puck grabbed the paper out of Azimio’s hands and took a better look at it. Apparently it was from Jacob Ben Israel’s gossip blog and the bastard had managed to snap a picture of him and Kurt running away from the restaurant, hand-in-hand and laughing. The headline read, “Hero Running Back Switching Teams?”
Shoving the piece of paper back in Azimio’s direction, Puck scoffed, “So what? I’m getting the job done.”
“Dude, seriously?” Azimio laughed, pushing the paper at one of the other guys, like he wanted them to pass it around or some shit. “Because it looks like you’re getting more out of this whole thing than just winning a bet. You going fag on us, Puckerman?”
Puck still hated that word and it took every ounce of strength he had to keep the boiling of his blood damped down enough that he wouldn’t do something stupid, like start a shoving match in the locker room. Instead, he smirked and said, “By the time I win this bet, you’re gonna be nominating me for an Oscar, bro. I’m just that talented at making it look good.”
“Yeah?” Azimio asked, disbelief on his face waning just slightly. “We’ll see about that. Just know that if you go homo, we’ll make sure you get kicked off the team.”
As Azimio and his friends, including one very contrite looking Karofsky, walked away and started getting ready for practice, Puck called after them, “It’s your fucking bet, asshole!” Scoffing when the guy just kept on walking, Puck turned around to see Finn Hudson right behind him, looking pissed beyond belief. “What’s got your panties in a bunch?”
“If you’re just faking this, then you deserve a fucking Oscar, man. You could you do this to my brother? He thinks you’re his new boyfriend or something and won’t stop asking me all these fucking questions about you. If you’re not serious, I’m going to have to kick your ass.”
“He’s asking about me?” Puck said, shaking his head at how happy that thought made him. This was just a bet, right? Kurt knew that, too, didn’t he? Of course he did. Patting Finn’s shoulder, Puck told him with a placating smile, “Don’t worry about it, dude. I got this.”
“And when Azimio makes you pick between Kurt and the team?” Finn asked, shrugging off Puck’s hand with a disdainful pout.
“Azimio can’t do shit to me,” Puck insisted, rolling his eyes and heading toward his locker to start changing, willing himself to believe it was true.
~~**~~
“And then,” Kurt told his friend, Mercedes, holding her hand steady so he wouldn’t mess up the edges of the red nail polish he was applying for her, “Blaine showed up.”
“No!” she replied, scandalized and yet holding her hand perfectly still. “What did he do? Was there a fight?”
“Blaine? In a fight?” Kurt scoffed, shaking his head. “No way. It was even worse. Blaine started singing.”
“Ooh, what song?”
Giving his friend a disbelieving look, one eyebrow up and everything, Kurt told her, “Criminal.”
Nodding, Mercedes replied, “He would go straight for Britney, for a revenge song, wouldn’t he?”
“No, the Fiona Apple one,” Kurt clarified, setting the brush in its bottle and blowing gently on Mercedes’ nails to dry them. “He was the criminal in this instance, like he felt he needed to apologize to me.”
His girl shrugged one shoulder and said, “Well, you have been complaining about your relationship with Blaine for months, baby boy. Maybe the break-up made him finally see you were serious that things needed to change.”
“And now they have changed,” Kurt insisted, putting down Mercedes’ hand and taking the other so he could start painting those nails. “I don’t want to get back together with him, even if it was different. Not now and maybe not ever.”
Mercedes made a disbelieving noise, like she couldn’t believe he and Blaine weren’t meant to be, but she didn’t argue, so Kurt went on painting her nails and changed the topic to their auditions for the musical, which were coming up the following week. A dark pallor of “what if breaking up with Blaine cost him the part” fell over the conversation, but Kurt tried to ignore it as best he could, focusing on how to help Mercedes kill her audition.
~~**~~
“This is where you chose to take me on our second date?” Kurt asked with a disdainful pout and Puck couldn’t help but notice the way his palms broke out in a nervous sweat. Puck didn’t get nervous. Not ever. What the fuck was wrong with him? Maybe it was those tight jeans that Kurt decided to wear that night, probably knowing exactly how well they showed off his assets. “This is a frat house.”
“You said you liked dancing,” Puck replied, taking Kurt’s hand and tugging him toward the house, which was blaring loud dance music and already had drunken kids wearing beer jackets hanging out on the veranda. “C’mon. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
Kurt rolled his eyes, but followed along, saying in Puck’s ear as they went up the steps, “It’s just that these are the kinds of guys that beat the shit out of me in high school. I really don’t think things have changed that much.”
“You’ll be fine,” Puck promised, even though he didn’t know that for sure. He’d decided on this party because almost the whole team was planning on being here tonight and if he wanted to win this bet, he had to have witnesses. A few drinks, some sexy dancing, and Kurt had to agree to make out with him, right? It had worked on plenty of girls before. Of course, lots of those girls had gone to the frat parties with the intension of getting laid, but still. It wasn’t like Puck hadn’t seen hipster-looking dudes making out with each other at these sorts of parties before. And, yeah, that was the sort of thing he noticed.
Walking up to the house hand-in-hand, they got a few looks, but nothing overtly insulting. Or, not that Puck noticed. Whatever. He was a freaking badass and a star on the football team. Everyone else could just fuck off. Once inside, where the music was louder, but not overwhelming, it seemed like everyone was too busy with their own shit to give a damn about Puck bringing a theater gay as his date.
The first person that Puck recognized was Dave Karofsky, who was standing next to the staircase with a red plastic cup in his hand and a girl talking his ear off. Yeah, good luck with that, Puck thought in her direction. Karofsky hardly ever slept with random skanks for his reputation’s sake anymore. Well, female skanks, anyway. When the girl took Karofsky’s cup and waded back through the party, Puck decided to go say hello.
“Hey, dude,” Puck said to Karofsky, holding Kurt’s hand tightly because despite what he’d said, he was a little nervous that if the guy went wandering off on his own, he might run across a pack of dickheads who might drunkenly harass him, just for being his awesome self. “What’s up?”
Karofsky looked surprised when he saw who Puck had with him, and maybe even a little jealous. “Not much,” he replied, giving Puck a look that clearly asked whether or not he was insane. “You?”
“We just got here,” Puck replied, giving Kurt a smile. “This is Kurt. Kurt, this is one of my teammates, Karofsky.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Kurt said with complete disinterest, frowning as a pair of girls in very low-cut tops bounced by, chatting with each other excitedly.
As Kurt continued to people-watch, Puck leaned toward Karofsky and said, “Do me a favor and keep an eye on him tonight? You know you owe me.”
Karofsky gave Puck a look that said he knew nothing of the sort, but he nodded and said, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
“Thanks, dude,” Puck grinned, glad to know at least someone from the team was sort-of on his side. At least in a lookout capacity.
Turning to his date, Puck asked Kurt, “So, what can I get you to drink, babe?”
~~**~~
Kurt didn’t like it here, at all. Most of the campus parties he’d been to were full of theater kids and the ones who weren’t gay were at least very accepting. This frat party was teeming with straight people and Kurt hadn’t been this outnumbered since high school. It sucked.
He was on the verge of calling off the entire night when Puck asked what he’d like to drink. Normally, Kurt would have ordered something complicated and fabulously colored, but he doubted the bar here was stocked as nicely as the ones at his friends’ houses.
The thing was, when he looked into Puck’s face, Kurt could tell that the boy was trying so hard and Kurt knew it couldn’t just be about the bet. Not with the way Puck looked at him. Thirteen years in public school had taught Kurt how to see through people, how to know when they were lying and when he was about to become the butt of someone’s joke. He didn’t know if he and Puck had any prospects further than getting drunk and making out at some stupid frat party, but he knew the football player was being sincere.
Sighing, Kurt rolled his eyes and said, “I suppose you could bring me a rum and coke. Diet if they have it.”
Puck nodded and dropped Kurt’s hand for the first time since they’d started walking toward the party and Kurt would be lying if he said it didn’t feel at all like being abandoned in shark-infested waters. Shaking off the feeling, Kurt turned to Puck’s friend and asked, “What was your name again?”
The big guy shook his head and rolled his eyes a little (reminding Kurt far too much of some of his high school bullies) before answering, “Dave. And you’re Kurt, right?”
“Mmm,” Kurt hummed in agreement, looking around them and picking out exactly which guys (they were almost always guys) were giving him the disgusted side-eye. He side-eyed them right back, judging their appearances for his own amusement. Almost every single one of them was wearing too much self-tanner and had a stupidly-spiked faux-hawk. Sheep.
Then, Dave was closer to him, almost shoulder to shoulder, and he leaned over to say in Kurt’s ear, “Puckerman’s never going to date you.”
Giving the guy an assessing look before he replied, Kurt saw that Dave seemed sincere. “Why do you say that?” he asked, knowing full well it was probably the truth. But really, what was wrong with Kurt wanting to have a little fun now that his first and only relationship was over?
“Because,” Dave explained, still leaning a little too close for Kurt’s comfort, “if this thing between you two looks like anything even remotely like a relationship, Puck’s off the team. Without the team he’s without his scholarship and he gets sent packing.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Kurt shook his head. “This university has very clear anti-discrimination policies, even where team sports are concerned. Why else would I come here?”
Dave huffed loudly, crossing his arms over his chest as well, and making Kurt feel uncomfortable about keeping up the gesture. Whatever. He was using it first. “It’s not that simple,” Dave insisted. “You think it would be all that difficult for one of the guys to frame Puckerman for drugs or something? Why else would I-” Dave cut himself off, shaking his head and Kurt knew.
Feeling sorry for Dave, but mostly pissed off at the situation, Kurt shrugged. “I guess we’ll see how it goes.”
“Guess so,” Dave grunted in reply, leaning back a little and giving Kurt the distinct impression that he was being checked out.
Holding out one finger, Kurt said in his frostiest voice, “Don’t even think about it, ham-hock.”
“Think about what?” Dave replied, feigning innocence. Yeah, right.
When Puck got back with the drinks, trying to play it cool, but exuding this air of wanting to please under the surface, Kurt took the drink and downed it quickly, handing his glass back to Puck and insisting, “C’mon. We came here to dance, so we’re gonna dance.”
“Oh, okay,” Puck agreed, chugging his beer before handing both empties to Dave and following Kurt toward the room where all the music was coming from. If this romance was doomed to be short-lived, as Dave seemed to think, Kurt was going to make the most of it.
~~**~~
So, yeah. Maybe bringing Kurt to this party wasn’t his best idea ever, but Puck was pretty happy with the results so far. He and Kurt were dancing close and the guy seemed to be having fun, smiling and wrapping his arms around Puck’s neck once in a while and dancing so close that Puck couldn’t help but get a little aroused.
After a few songs, Puck asked, right in Kurt’s ear as he held the boy close by his hips, “I’m gonna go get another drink. You want something?”
Kurt nodded and then danced away from Puck, joining a group of girls who maybe he knew, maybe he didn’t, but they seemed happy to have him. Shrugging, Puck went to the bar and mixed another rum and diet (since Kurt hadn’t asked for anything else) and poured himself another beer. Before he could go back, though, one of the guys from the team stopped him, wanting to talk about the game they had in the morning.
“I don’t know, dude,” Puck replied to the guy’s question. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I’m kind of on a mission here.”
The guy scoffed and shook his head. “Bro, why would you even take that bet? I mean, I’ve done some sick shit in the name of pride, but making out with a homo? Gross!”
Puck wanted to argue, to tell the douche bag that Kurt was a human being, not an alien or something, but what was the point? It wasn’t like Puck could do or say anything to change his mind. Instead, he just nodded with a smile that felt more like a grimace and went back to his date.
Except Kurt wasn’t there on the dance floor. Shit. He’d gotten sick of being at this party and took the opportunity to leave. It felt like a punch in Puck’s gut, and more because he was really starting to like the guy, rather than the sick feeling being due to the certainty that he was never going to win the bet.
But then Karofsky caught his attention from near the door, his wave casual, but his eyes full of something like fear. “Fucking fuck,” Puck swore to himself, pushing his drinks at whoever happened to be closest and fighting his way out through the crowd. “Where is he?”
“They took him out and around to the side,” Dave replied, pointing to the right.
“And you just let them?” Puck cried, pushing Dave’s shoulder angrily.
Dave pushed back, and then took Puck and pushed him more in the right direction, out the door, saying, “What was I gonna do? Azimio thought it looked too much like you were gonna win the bet. You know what happens if I speak up.”
“Yeah, you look less like a douche bag and more like a human being, asshole,” Puck replied, fear making his hands and feet feel so cold as he tripped out of the house and rounded the corner to find Kurt surrounded by big football players. He looked so small and so slight, but not scared in the least. Badass.
Trying to play it at least a little cool, Puck approached the circle and called, “No fair rigging the game, Azimio! I think this little stunt means you forfeit.”
“What stunt?” Azimio asked with a laugh, clapping Kurt so hard on the shoulder that the guy stumbled a little before resuming his uncaring, hip-jutted-out pose. “We were just having a friendly conversation with your date, Puckerman.”
“Uh-huh,” Puck nodded, pushing his way into the circle and standing beside Kurt. “And this ‘friendly’ conversation had to happen outside because…?”
“It’s too loud inside,” Azimio replied. “Duh.”
Puck scoffed, but his reaction was overshadowed by none other than Finn Hudson, running up to the frat house and yelling, “Puck! Puck! Has anyone seen Puckerman?”
One of Azimio’s friends called, “Yo! Over here, Hudson!” and Finn came around the side of the house, Dave Karofsky trailing after him.
Without even noticing what was going on, Finn called, “Hey, Puck! I just heard that…” Puck saw the moment Finn realized that his friend and his stepbrother were surrounded by linebackers. “Nevermind.”
“Well, now that everyone’s here, looks like we can get this par-”
~~**~~
Kurt’s loud scoff cut Azimio’s words off and all eyes turned to look at him. “You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” he asked, staring down each and every one of the men surrounding them. “You’re trying to scare me or tell me that Puck’s playing me, that he’s only in it for a bet.” Kurt paused slightly at the surprised looks he was getting from a few of the football players. “Oh, yeah. I’ve known about that from the start. And really, what makes you so sure I’m not playing him? I mean, Christ, just look at him.”
Kurt approached his date and ruffled the strip of hair on the top of Puck’s head. “Sure, he’s good looking, but there’s not all that much going on upstairs, is there?” Ignoring Puck’s hurt look, Kurt went back to staring at the football players, some of whom chuckled at the mention of Puck’s mental capabilities, which Kurt knew weren’t nearly as bad as he played them up to be. “If you’re afraid your little buddy here is turning gay, don’t worry about it. I’ve just made him think that. You know, with my evil gay powers.”
Exchanging a look with one of his friends, Azimio started, “Hey, now wait a min-”
This time Kurt cut off the jerk by grabbing Puck’s face and pulling him into a deep, frustratingly short (even though it probably lasted close to thirty seconds) French kiss. Kurt almost shuddered at the way Puck tasted under the beer he’d been drinking, knowing at that first taste that he could spend hours, years, kissing this man. Puck’s surprised gasp in through his nose and then the slow careful way he exhaled told Kurt that he was enjoying the kiss, too.
And then Kurt pulled back, pushed Puck away from him and turned to face Azimio. “There. He won the bet and you can have him back in your little straight-boys club now. Goodbye and good luck with the upcoming season.” Pushing his way past the stunned football players, Kurt latched onto Finn and whispered at him harshly, “Get me the fuck out of here.”
Finn just nodded and followed his command, walking quickly beside Kurt away from the frat house and away from Frat Row and back toward central campus, where Kurt felt much safer. Briefly, it occurred to him that maybe he should call up Blaine and give the guy another chance, that it would be safer in the long run. But, no. As fun and as doomed as things with Noah Puckerman had been, Kurt knew he needed more out of life than his safe relationship with Blaine.
Now it was a matter of how long he was willing to wait for a certain football player to get his head out of his ass or whether, come next weekend, Kurt would plan to go out with his friends in the hopes of meeting someone new.
~~**~~
Puck stood in the center of the circle, stunned as everyone watched Kurt walk away. That kiss had been incredible. Even better than Puck had been imagining. And now Kurt was gone.
Fuck.
Turning to Azimio, Puck growled, “You asshole!” and took a swing, clipping Azimio on the jaw.
“What?” the guy replied as the others grabbed Puck to keep him from hitting the linebacker again. “You won the bet and you’re calling me the asshole? Jesus, boys, I think our friend Puckerman has really gone faggot. So sad. He had so much potential.”
“Yeah, have fun trying to explain the MJ Coach is gonna find in your locker Monday morning,” another of them said, his grin wide and feral.
“Knock it off, dudes,” a voice cried and at first, Puck didn’t recognize it as Dave Karofsky’s, it was so strained. “Leave Puck alone. He’s not gay.”
“Seems pretty gay to me,” one guy commented while another asked, “Just how much did you enjoy that kiss, Fuckerman? Half-mast or full-sail?”
Well, the truth was full-sail, but before Puck could be badass and brag about that, Dave got in front of him and almost screamed at the others, “I’m the gay one on this team. Me!”
And that was not something Puck would have bet on happening. Not in a million years.
“You can’t be gay,” Azimio insisted after a moment. “You’re too damn ugly, for one.”
Karofsky nodded, but he looked heartbroken or something, and Puck guessed he got it. No one wants to find out their best friend thinks they’re ugly. Especially if Dave had been harboring gay feelings for the guy.
Wanting to stand up for Karofsky, like in solidarity or whatever, Puck nudged him with one shoulder, saying, “You’re hot, Dave. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I mean, I don’t fuck uglies, dude.”
“Jesus Christ, it’s an epidemic!” Azimio cried. “Looks like we got two frame-jobs to do come Monday.”
“Plus the four other guys on the team,” Karofksy added, crossing his arms over his chest, “that I know firsthand, who are into dudes. You gonna frame all of us, Z, or are you gonna let this shit go?”
One of the other guys said, “Shit, Z. We can’t lose six guys at once. Coach’ll never believe it, much less let it happen.”
“Just let the homos be,” another one insisted impatiently. “If we catch them looking at us in the locker room, we can kick the crap out of them.”
“Yeah, that’s a good plan,” Puck smiled, relieved more than he was willing to admit. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a gay to catch.”
~~**~~
He and Finn were almost back to Kurt’s dorm when Kurt heard footsteps running up behind them. “Hey! Hey, guys, wait!” someone called and Kurt instantly recognized Puck’s voice, despite his desire to have nothing more to do with the man.
When Puck got around in front of them, Kurt asked, “What do you think you’re doing here?”
“Dude!” Puck cried incredulously. “You can’t just kiss a guy like that and then walk away!”
Kurt rolled his eyes and brushed past Puck, saying, “Really? Because I’m pretty sure I just did. Have a nice life, Puck.”
“But-”
Finn cut him off, telling Puck as Kurt kept walking away, “The game’s over, bro. You won. Let it go.”
As much as it unnecessarily warmed Kurt’s heart, having his step-brother stick up for him, Puck’s next words made Kurt stop short. “It’s not a fucking game, Hudson. It’s not a bet. It didn’t even start that way.”
Turning around, Kurt met Puck’s eyes in the light from the streetlamp and asked, “How did it start?”
“I just … saw you,” Puck explained, shaking off the hand that Finn had been using to hold him back and rushing up to just-short-of-touching Kurt. “I saw you and I wanted you. As simple as that. How about you, Kurt? Am I really wasting my time here or can I kiss the crap out of you?”
Holding his breath for a few seconds, Kurt tried to tell himself to make a wise decision. Puck was going to get kicked off the team if they did this. He was going to lose his scholarship and leave the university and they’d probably never see each other again, anyway, and it would be Kurt’s entire fault. On the other hand, Kurt couldn’t get the taste of Puck’s tongue out of his head and every single cell in his body screamed for more, more, more. Before he could consciously make a decision, Kurt said, “You’re not.”
“I’m not what?” Puck asked, running one hand down the outside of Kurt’s arm, making them both shiver at that touch.
Rolling his eyes, Kurt brushed off that hair-standing-on-end feeling and scoffed, “You really are as dim as you look, aren’t you Puckerman? You’re not wasting your time.” With that, Kurt grabbed Puck by the back of the neck and pulled him into their second kiss, loving the way Puck melted into it.
As Kurt broke away, watching Puck’s heavy eyelids draw open at the same rate a stupid grin spread across his face, the boy whispered in an awed sort of tone, “Cool.”
Looking over Puck’s shoulder, Kurt met Finn’s eyes and told him, “I think I can take it from here, Finn. Thanks for walking with me.” Then he interlaced his fingers with Puck’s and pulled him toward the dorm, thanking whatever higher power that might exist that he’d talked his dad into paying for a single room. “C’mon, Puckerman. You’re winning that bet again tonight.”
“Whatever you say, baby,” Puck replied as Kurt unlocked the outer door, the self-satisfied grin evident in his voice and his chuckling breath warm against the skin on Kurt’s neck.
Author: pterawaters
Rating: PG-13
Character(s)/Pairing(s) : Kurt, Puck, Finn, Azimio, Blaine, Karofsky; Puck/Kurt, a little Kurt/Blaine, mentions Puck/Karofsky and Puck/OCs
Genre: Humor, Romance
Warning: Homophobia
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine. At all.
Author Notes: This was written for the fic I didn’t write challenge, for naryakiuxen's prompt. It’s a college-fic that’s AU, wherein Kurt and Puck have yet to meet. This part really deserved more time than I could devote to it, but it’s finished (and very unbeta’d). Yay!
Summary: Puck is sure that, if he doesn't do as his friends dared him to and makes out Hummel he is going to regret it, one way or another.
Word Count: 5400 (part 2) | 9000 total
Part 1
Part 2
Puck sat, speechless, in his chair until Finn came back, knocking on his own door and peeking in like he wasn’t quite sure what would be going on. Well, if Puck had his way, he would currently have been dry humping Kurt on Finn’s futon and sucking hickeys into that pale skin on his neck. Instead, he was sitting here with a slowly flagging erection and no idea what to do next.
If he gave in to Kurt’s demands, there was a big chance that someone would see him dating a dude and then word would spread across campus like wildfire. Puck’s picture would be in the school paper again, this time not in the sports section, but the gossip section. He’d never be able to hook up with another co-ed until he graduated and moved out of the fucking state.
But on the other hand, he’d just spent the hottest two minutes of his life (well, clothed life, anyway) and he would be a fucking idiot to pass that up. Right? Right.
So when Finn asked, “Really ripped you a new one, didn’t he?” Puck couldn’t help but laugh. “What?” Finn asked, concern spread all over his dopey face. “What happened?”
“He asked me out,” Puck replied with another laugh. “He fucking asked me out!”
“What?!” Finn cried in disbelief. “I can’t - I mean he said… What?”
Sparing a quick look for his friend, Puck heaved himself out of his chair as he said, “Don’t hurt yourself there, dude.” Making sure he had all his shit, Puck abandoned Finn there, laughing a little at the guy’s confused face, and went back to his room, ready to start planning the first date. And hey, if there wasn’t going to be making out, Puck could totally have some of that awesome garlic bread at the little Italian place down the street without having to be self-conscious about it.
Despite the rumors that were sure to hound him following this whole bet debacle, Puck found himself really looking forward to dating Kurt Hummel.
~~**~~
Kurt thought things had been going well. After breaking up with Blaine and ignoring Finn’s concerned calls, he got Puck to pick him up from the lobby of his dorm and walk him to the Italian restaurant just off campus that they had agreed to go to. Kurt kept his cool and conversation was actually moving along despite many shared interests ... until Blaine decided to show up.
And Kurt's ex didn't just show up. He came with the entire undergraduate male a capella group backing him as he broke into song.
"I've been a bad, bad girl,
I've been careless with a delicate man!"
From the first note, Kurt recognized Blaine's singing voice and felt his face turn deep red. What the hell did he think he was doing? Kurt had made it perfectly clear that they were breaking up and that Kurt intended on seeing other people, namely Puck, who was sitting across the table. His expression turned from surprised to downright pissed when he realized that Kurt was the one being serenaded, but at least he looked pissed at Blaine and not Kurt.
"I'm so, so sorry," Kurt insisted to Puck, shooting Blaine the bitchiest glare he was capable of. "I don't know how he found out about our date."
"And it's a sad, sad world,
When a girl will break a boy,
Just because she can!"
Blaine had danced his way up to Kurt, kneeling in front of him, like he was begging for another chance, so Kurt crossed his arms in front of his chest and asked over the Warblers' back-up vocals, "How is this song even relevant? I broke up with you!"
Unperturbed, Blaine continued, a smile on his too-perfect face.
"Don’t you tell me to deny it,
I’ve done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins.”
Kurt scoffed at the way he’d unintentionally played into the lyrics before sending Puck a look that he hoped said either, “Help!” or “I’m so embarrassed, just kill me now.”
"I’ve come to you ‘cause I need
Guidance to be true and I
Just don’t know where I can begin.”
“You can begin by getting out of our faces,” Puck insisted, and he seemed to be concerned about the amount of attention Blaine’s little stunt was drawing. Before Kurt could apologize again, Puck had thrown down some cash from his wallet and grabbed Kurt’s hand, pulling him in a frenzied, but actually kind of fun escape from the restaurant while Blaine sang after them, “Because he’s all I’ve ever known of love!”
After running for a good block or two in his dress shoes, Kurt pulled on Puck’s hand, telling him, “I think we’ve escaped!” while trying to breathe and laugh at the same time.
Eyes bright with laughter in the light of the sandwich shop beside them, Puck grinned, “No wonder you broke up with that douchebag. He do stuff like that often?”
“Unfortunately,” Kurt nodded, running his tongue around his teeth in an effort to moisten up his mouth, which was getting dry with the effort to breathe through the exertion he was unaccustomed to. Kurt was definitely more of a yoga man than a running man. “I used to think it was attractive.”
Puck laughed again before bringing his free hand (Kurt just noticed that he was still clutching Puck’s other hand tightly, not wanting to let go) up to Kurt’s face and brushing the backs of his knuckles against Kurt’s cheek. “You look good like this,” Puck said, his voice oozing confidence and sex. “Flustered. Flushed.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. This was supposed to be about Kurt getting control over his dating life, not getting swept up in stupid romantic gestures again. The hitch in his breath and that warm feeling low in his gut didn’t mean anything. They couldn’t.
Before the football player could lean in and kiss him, Kurt let go of his hand and stepped back, saying, “Thanks for the date. I-I’m sorry it got ruined.” As he backed away, narrowly missing another pedestrian, Kurt told Puck, “I’m free again on Friday. You come up with something good, I’ll take care of banishing annoying exes.”
And then he fled, feeling not at all in control (more like a breathless teenager just leaving his first date with a boy, ever) but remarkably happy, all the same.
~~**~~
When Puck got to the locker room the next afternoon for practice, Azimio was waiting for him, holding out a printed sheet from some website or whatever. “Well, look what we got here, boys,” he said, keeping his eyes with Puck like he might try to bolt or something. “Puckerman’s taking this bet way too seriously.”
Frowning at the guy, Puck grabbed the paper out of Azimio’s hands and took a better look at it. Apparently it was from Jacob Ben Israel’s gossip blog and the bastard had managed to snap a picture of him and Kurt running away from the restaurant, hand-in-hand and laughing. The headline read, “Hero Running Back Switching Teams?”
Shoving the piece of paper back in Azimio’s direction, Puck scoffed, “So what? I’m getting the job done.”
“Dude, seriously?” Azimio laughed, pushing the paper at one of the other guys, like he wanted them to pass it around or some shit. “Because it looks like you’re getting more out of this whole thing than just winning a bet. You going fag on us, Puckerman?”
Puck still hated that word and it took every ounce of strength he had to keep the boiling of his blood damped down enough that he wouldn’t do something stupid, like start a shoving match in the locker room. Instead, he smirked and said, “By the time I win this bet, you’re gonna be nominating me for an Oscar, bro. I’m just that talented at making it look good.”
“Yeah?” Azimio asked, disbelief on his face waning just slightly. “We’ll see about that. Just know that if you go homo, we’ll make sure you get kicked off the team.”
As Azimio and his friends, including one very contrite looking Karofsky, walked away and started getting ready for practice, Puck called after them, “It’s your fucking bet, asshole!” Scoffing when the guy just kept on walking, Puck turned around to see Finn Hudson right behind him, looking pissed beyond belief. “What’s got your panties in a bunch?”
“If you’re just faking this, then you deserve a fucking Oscar, man. You could you do this to my brother? He thinks you’re his new boyfriend or something and won’t stop asking me all these fucking questions about you. If you’re not serious, I’m going to have to kick your ass.”
“He’s asking about me?” Puck said, shaking his head at how happy that thought made him. This was just a bet, right? Kurt knew that, too, didn’t he? Of course he did. Patting Finn’s shoulder, Puck told him with a placating smile, “Don’t worry about it, dude. I got this.”
“And when Azimio makes you pick between Kurt and the team?” Finn asked, shrugging off Puck’s hand with a disdainful pout.
“Azimio can’t do shit to me,” Puck insisted, rolling his eyes and heading toward his locker to start changing, willing himself to believe it was true.
~~**~~
“And then,” Kurt told his friend, Mercedes, holding her hand steady so he wouldn’t mess up the edges of the red nail polish he was applying for her, “Blaine showed up.”
“No!” she replied, scandalized and yet holding her hand perfectly still. “What did he do? Was there a fight?”
“Blaine? In a fight?” Kurt scoffed, shaking his head. “No way. It was even worse. Blaine started singing.”
“Ooh, what song?”
Giving his friend a disbelieving look, one eyebrow up and everything, Kurt told her, “Criminal.”
Nodding, Mercedes replied, “He would go straight for Britney, for a revenge song, wouldn’t he?”
“No, the Fiona Apple one,” Kurt clarified, setting the brush in its bottle and blowing gently on Mercedes’ nails to dry them. “He was the criminal in this instance, like he felt he needed to apologize to me.”
His girl shrugged one shoulder and said, “Well, you have been complaining about your relationship with Blaine for months, baby boy. Maybe the break-up made him finally see you were serious that things needed to change.”
“And now they have changed,” Kurt insisted, putting down Mercedes’ hand and taking the other so he could start painting those nails. “I don’t want to get back together with him, even if it was different. Not now and maybe not ever.”
Mercedes made a disbelieving noise, like she couldn’t believe he and Blaine weren’t meant to be, but she didn’t argue, so Kurt went on painting her nails and changed the topic to their auditions for the musical, which were coming up the following week. A dark pallor of “what if breaking up with Blaine cost him the part” fell over the conversation, but Kurt tried to ignore it as best he could, focusing on how to help Mercedes kill her audition.
~~**~~
“This is where you chose to take me on our second date?” Kurt asked with a disdainful pout and Puck couldn’t help but notice the way his palms broke out in a nervous sweat. Puck didn’t get nervous. Not ever. What the fuck was wrong with him? Maybe it was those tight jeans that Kurt decided to wear that night, probably knowing exactly how well they showed off his assets. “This is a frat house.”
“You said you liked dancing,” Puck replied, taking Kurt’s hand and tugging him toward the house, which was blaring loud dance music and already had drunken kids wearing beer jackets hanging out on the veranda. “C’mon. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
Kurt rolled his eyes, but followed along, saying in Puck’s ear as they went up the steps, “It’s just that these are the kinds of guys that beat the shit out of me in high school. I really don’t think things have changed that much.”
“You’ll be fine,” Puck promised, even though he didn’t know that for sure. He’d decided on this party because almost the whole team was planning on being here tonight and if he wanted to win this bet, he had to have witnesses. A few drinks, some sexy dancing, and Kurt had to agree to make out with him, right? It had worked on plenty of girls before. Of course, lots of those girls had gone to the frat parties with the intension of getting laid, but still. It wasn’t like Puck hadn’t seen hipster-looking dudes making out with each other at these sorts of parties before. And, yeah, that was the sort of thing he noticed.
Walking up to the house hand-in-hand, they got a few looks, but nothing overtly insulting. Or, not that Puck noticed. Whatever. He was a freaking badass and a star on the football team. Everyone else could just fuck off. Once inside, where the music was louder, but not overwhelming, it seemed like everyone was too busy with their own shit to give a damn about Puck bringing a theater gay as his date.
The first person that Puck recognized was Dave Karofsky, who was standing next to the staircase with a red plastic cup in his hand and a girl talking his ear off. Yeah, good luck with that, Puck thought in her direction. Karofsky hardly ever slept with random skanks for his reputation’s sake anymore. Well, female skanks, anyway. When the girl took Karofsky’s cup and waded back through the party, Puck decided to go say hello.
“Hey, dude,” Puck said to Karofsky, holding Kurt’s hand tightly because despite what he’d said, he was a little nervous that if the guy went wandering off on his own, he might run across a pack of dickheads who might drunkenly harass him, just for being his awesome self. “What’s up?”
Karofsky looked surprised when he saw who Puck had with him, and maybe even a little jealous. “Not much,” he replied, giving Puck a look that clearly asked whether or not he was insane. “You?”
“We just got here,” Puck replied, giving Kurt a smile. “This is Kurt. Kurt, this is one of my teammates, Karofsky.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Kurt said with complete disinterest, frowning as a pair of girls in very low-cut tops bounced by, chatting with each other excitedly.
As Kurt continued to people-watch, Puck leaned toward Karofsky and said, “Do me a favor and keep an eye on him tonight? You know you owe me.”
Karofsky gave Puck a look that said he knew nothing of the sort, but he nodded and said, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
“Thanks, dude,” Puck grinned, glad to know at least someone from the team was sort-of on his side. At least in a lookout capacity.
Turning to his date, Puck asked Kurt, “So, what can I get you to drink, babe?”
~~**~~
Kurt didn’t like it here, at all. Most of the campus parties he’d been to were full of theater kids and the ones who weren’t gay were at least very accepting. This frat party was teeming with straight people and Kurt hadn’t been this outnumbered since high school. It sucked.
He was on the verge of calling off the entire night when Puck asked what he’d like to drink. Normally, Kurt would have ordered something complicated and fabulously colored, but he doubted the bar here was stocked as nicely as the ones at his friends’ houses.
The thing was, when he looked into Puck’s face, Kurt could tell that the boy was trying so hard and Kurt knew it couldn’t just be about the bet. Not with the way Puck looked at him. Thirteen years in public school had taught Kurt how to see through people, how to know when they were lying and when he was about to become the butt of someone’s joke. He didn’t know if he and Puck had any prospects further than getting drunk and making out at some stupid frat party, but he knew the football player was being sincere.
Sighing, Kurt rolled his eyes and said, “I suppose you could bring me a rum and coke. Diet if they have it.”
Puck nodded and dropped Kurt’s hand for the first time since they’d started walking toward the party and Kurt would be lying if he said it didn’t feel at all like being abandoned in shark-infested waters. Shaking off the feeling, Kurt turned to Puck’s friend and asked, “What was your name again?”
The big guy shook his head and rolled his eyes a little (reminding Kurt far too much of some of his high school bullies) before answering, “Dave. And you’re Kurt, right?”
“Mmm,” Kurt hummed in agreement, looking around them and picking out exactly which guys (they were almost always guys) were giving him the disgusted side-eye. He side-eyed them right back, judging their appearances for his own amusement. Almost every single one of them was wearing too much self-tanner and had a stupidly-spiked faux-hawk. Sheep.
Then, Dave was closer to him, almost shoulder to shoulder, and he leaned over to say in Kurt’s ear, “Puckerman’s never going to date you.”
Giving the guy an assessing look before he replied, Kurt saw that Dave seemed sincere. “Why do you say that?” he asked, knowing full well it was probably the truth. But really, what was wrong with Kurt wanting to have a little fun now that his first and only relationship was over?
“Because,” Dave explained, still leaning a little too close for Kurt’s comfort, “if this thing between you two looks like anything even remotely like a relationship, Puck’s off the team. Without the team he’s without his scholarship and he gets sent packing.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Kurt shook his head. “This university has very clear anti-discrimination policies, even where team sports are concerned. Why else would I come here?”
Dave huffed loudly, crossing his arms over his chest as well, and making Kurt feel uncomfortable about keeping up the gesture. Whatever. He was using it first. “It’s not that simple,” Dave insisted. “You think it would be all that difficult for one of the guys to frame Puckerman for drugs or something? Why else would I-” Dave cut himself off, shaking his head and Kurt knew.
Feeling sorry for Dave, but mostly pissed off at the situation, Kurt shrugged. “I guess we’ll see how it goes.”
“Guess so,” Dave grunted in reply, leaning back a little and giving Kurt the distinct impression that he was being checked out.
Holding out one finger, Kurt said in his frostiest voice, “Don’t even think about it, ham-hock.”
“Think about what?” Dave replied, feigning innocence. Yeah, right.
When Puck got back with the drinks, trying to play it cool, but exuding this air of wanting to please under the surface, Kurt took the drink and downed it quickly, handing his glass back to Puck and insisting, “C’mon. We came here to dance, so we’re gonna dance.”
“Oh, okay,” Puck agreed, chugging his beer before handing both empties to Dave and following Kurt toward the room where all the music was coming from. If this romance was doomed to be short-lived, as Dave seemed to think, Kurt was going to make the most of it.
~~**~~
So, yeah. Maybe bringing Kurt to this party wasn’t his best idea ever, but Puck was pretty happy with the results so far. He and Kurt were dancing close and the guy seemed to be having fun, smiling and wrapping his arms around Puck’s neck once in a while and dancing so close that Puck couldn’t help but get a little aroused.
After a few songs, Puck asked, right in Kurt’s ear as he held the boy close by his hips, “I’m gonna go get another drink. You want something?”
Kurt nodded and then danced away from Puck, joining a group of girls who maybe he knew, maybe he didn’t, but they seemed happy to have him. Shrugging, Puck went to the bar and mixed another rum and diet (since Kurt hadn’t asked for anything else) and poured himself another beer. Before he could go back, though, one of the guys from the team stopped him, wanting to talk about the game they had in the morning.
“I don’t know, dude,” Puck replied to the guy’s question. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I’m kind of on a mission here.”
The guy scoffed and shook his head. “Bro, why would you even take that bet? I mean, I’ve done some sick shit in the name of pride, but making out with a homo? Gross!”
Puck wanted to argue, to tell the douche bag that Kurt was a human being, not an alien or something, but what was the point? It wasn’t like Puck could do or say anything to change his mind. Instead, he just nodded with a smile that felt more like a grimace and went back to his date.
Except Kurt wasn’t there on the dance floor. Shit. He’d gotten sick of being at this party and took the opportunity to leave. It felt like a punch in Puck’s gut, and more because he was really starting to like the guy, rather than the sick feeling being due to the certainty that he was never going to win the bet.
But then Karofsky caught his attention from near the door, his wave casual, but his eyes full of something like fear. “Fucking fuck,” Puck swore to himself, pushing his drinks at whoever happened to be closest and fighting his way out through the crowd. “Where is he?”
“They took him out and around to the side,” Dave replied, pointing to the right.
“And you just let them?” Puck cried, pushing Dave’s shoulder angrily.
Dave pushed back, and then took Puck and pushed him more in the right direction, out the door, saying, “What was I gonna do? Azimio thought it looked too much like you were gonna win the bet. You know what happens if I speak up.”
“Yeah, you look less like a douche bag and more like a human being, asshole,” Puck replied, fear making his hands and feet feel so cold as he tripped out of the house and rounded the corner to find Kurt surrounded by big football players. He looked so small and so slight, but not scared in the least. Badass.
Trying to play it at least a little cool, Puck approached the circle and called, “No fair rigging the game, Azimio! I think this little stunt means you forfeit.”
“What stunt?” Azimio asked with a laugh, clapping Kurt so hard on the shoulder that the guy stumbled a little before resuming his uncaring, hip-jutted-out pose. “We were just having a friendly conversation with your date, Puckerman.”
“Uh-huh,” Puck nodded, pushing his way into the circle and standing beside Kurt. “And this ‘friendly’ conversation had to happen outside because…?”
“It’s too loud inside,” Azimio replied. “Duh.”
Puck scoffed, but his reaction was overshadowed by none other than Finn Hudson, running up to the frat house and yelling, “Puck! Puck! Has anyone seen Puckerman?”
One of Azimio’s friends called, “Yo! Over here, Hudson!” and Finn came around the side of the house, Dave Karofsky trailing after him.
Without even noticing what was going on, Finn called, “Hey, Puck! I just heard that…” Puck saw the moment Finn realized that his friend and his stepbrother were surrounded by linebackers. “Nevermind.”
“Well, now that everyone’s here, looks like we can get this par-”
~~**~~
Kurt’s loud scoff cut Azimio’s words off and all eyes turned to look at him. “You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do?” he asked, staring down each and every one of the men surrounding them. “You’re trying to scare me or tell me that Puck’s playing me, that he’s only in it for a bet.” Kurt paused slightly at the surprised looks he was getting from a few of the football players. “Oh, yeah. I’ve known about that from the start. And really, what makes you so sure I’m not playing him? I mean, Christ, just look at him.”
Kurt approached his date and ruffled the strip of hair on the top of Puck’s head. “Sure, he’s good looking, but there’s not all that much going on upstairs, is there?” Ignoring Puck’s hurt look, Kurt went back to staring at the football players, some of whom chuckled at the mention of Puck’s mental capabilities, which Kurt knew weren’t nearly as bad as he played them up to be. “If you’re afraid your little buddy here is turning gay, don’t worry about it. I’ve just made him think that. You know, with my evil gay powers.”
Exchanging a look with one of his friends, Azimio started, “Hey, now wait a min-”
This time Kurt cut off the jerk by grabbing Puck’s face and pulling him into a deep, frustratingly short (even though it probably lasted close to thirty seconds) French kiss. Kurt almost shuddered at the way Puck tasted under the beer he’d been drinking, knowing at that first taste that he could spend hours, years, kissing this man. Puck’s surprised gasp in through his nose and then the slow careful way he exhaled told Kurt that he was enjoying the kiss, too.
And then Kurt pulled back, pushed Puck away from him and turned to face Azimio. “There. He won the bet and you can have him back in your little straight-boys club now. Goodbye and good luck with the upcoming season.” Pushing his way past the stunned football players, Kurt latched onto Finn and whispered at him harshly, “Get me the fuck out of here.”
Finn just nodded and followed his command, walking quickly beside Kurt away from the frat house and away from Frat Row and back toward central campus, where Kurt felt much safer. Briefly, it occurred to him that maybe he should call up Blaine and give the guy another chance, that it would be safer in the long run. But, no. As fun and as doomed as things with Noah Puckerman had been, Kurt knew he needed more out of life than his safe relationship with Blaine.
Now it was a matter of how long he was willing to wait for a certain football player to get his head out of his ass or whether, come next weekend, Kurt would plan to go out with his friends in the hopes of meeting someone new.
~~**~~
Puck stood in the center of the circle, stunned as everyone watched Kurt walk away. That kiss had been incredible. Even better than Puck had been imagining. And now Kurt was gone.
Fuck.
Turning to Azimio, Puck growled, “You asshole!” and took a swing, clipping Azimio on the jaw.
“What?” the guy replied as the others grabbed Puck to keep him from hitting the linebacker again. “You won the bet and you’re calling me the asshole? Jesus, boys, I think our friend Puckerman has really gone faggot. So sad. He had so much potential.”
“Yeah, have fun trying to explain the MJ Coach is gonna find in your locker Monday morning,” another of them said, his grin wide and feral.
“Knock it off, dudes,” a voice cried and at first, Puck didn’t recognize it as Dave Karofsky’s, it was so strained. “Leave Puck alone. He’s not gay.”
“Seems pretty gay to me,” one guy commented while another asked, “Just how much did you enjoy that kiss, Fuckerman? Half-mast or full-sail?”
Well, the truth was full-sail, but before Puck could be badass and brag about that, Dave got in front of him and almost screamed at the others, “I’m the gay one on this team. Me!”
And that was not something Puck would have bet on happening. Not in a million years.
“You can’t be gay,” Azimio insisted after a moment. “You’re too damn ugly, for one.”
Karofsky nodded, but he looked heartbroken or something, and Puck guessed he got it. No one wants to find out their best friend thinks they’re ugly. Especially if Dave had been harboring gay feelings for the guy.
Wanting to stand up for Karofsky, like in solidarity or whatever, Puck nudged him with one shoulder, saying, “You’re hot, Dave. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I mean, I don’t fuck uglies, dude.”
“Jesus Christ, it’s an epidemic!” Azimio cried. “Looks like we got two frame-jobs to do come Monday.”
“Plus the four other guys on the team,” Karofksy added, crossing his arms over his chest, “that I know firsthand, who are into dudes. You gonna frame all of us, Z, or are you gonna let this shit go?”
One of the other guys said, “Shit, Z. We can’t lose six guys at once. Coach’ll never believe it, much less let it happen.”
“Just let the homos be,” another one insisted impatiently. “If we catch them looking at us in the locker room, we can kick the crap out of them.”
“Yeah, that’s a good plan,” Puck smiled, relieved more than he was willing to admit. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a gay to catch.”
~~**~~
He and Finn were almost back to Kurt’s dorm when Kurt heard footsteps running up behind them. “Hey! Hey, guys, wait!” someone called and Kurt instantly recognized Puck’s voice, despite his desire to have nothing more to do with the man.
When Puck got around in front of them, Kurt asked, “What do you think you’re doing here?”
“Dude!” Puck cried incredulously. “You can’t just kiss a guy like that and then walk away!”
Kurt rolled his eyes and brushed past Puck, saying, “Really? Because I’m pretty sure I just did. Have a nice life, Puck.”
“But-”
Finn cut him off, telling Puck as Kurt kept walking away, “The game’s over, bro. You won. Let it go.”
As much as it unnecessarily warmed Kurt’s heart, having his step-brother stick up for him, Puck’s next words made Kurt stop short. “It’s not a fucking game, Hudson. It’s not a bet. It didn’t even start that way.”
Turning around, Kurt met Puck’s eyes in the light from the streetlamp and asked, “How did it start?”
“I just … saw you,” Puck explained, shaking off the hand that Finn had been using to hold him back and rushing up to just-short-of-touching Kurt. “I saw you and I wanted you. As simple as that. How about you, Kurt? Am I really wasting my time here or can I kiss the crap out of you?”
Holding his breath for a few seconds, Kurt tried to tell himself to make a wise decision. Puck was going to get kicked off the team if they did this. He was going to lose his scholarship and leave the university and they’d probably never see each other again, anyway, and it would be Kurt’s entire fault. On the other hand, Kurt couldn’t get the taste of Puck’s tongue out of his head and every single cell in his body screamed for more, more, more. Before he could consciously make a decision, Kurt said, “You’re not.”
“I’m not what?” Puck asked, running one hand down the outside of Kurt’s arm, making them both shiver at that touch.
Rolling his eyes, Kurt brushed off that hair-standing-on-end feeling and scoffed, “You really are as dim as you look, aren’t you Puckerman? You’re not wasting your time.” With that, Kurt grabbed Puck by the back of the neck and pulled him into their second kiss, loving the way Puck melted into it.
As Kurt broke away, watching Puck’s heavy eyelids draw open at the same rate a stupid grin spread across his face, the boy whispered in an awed sort of tone, “Cool.”
Looking over Puck’s shoulder, Kurt met Finn’s eyes and told him, “I think I can take it from here, Finn. Thanks for walking with me.” Then he interlaced his fingers with Puck’s and pulled him toward the dorm, thanking whatever higher power that might exist that he’d talked his dad into paying for a single room. “C’mon, Puckerman. You’re winning that bet again tonight.”
“Whatever you say, baby,” Puck replied as Kurt unlocked the outer door, the self-satisfied grin evident in his voice and his chuckling breath warm against the skin on Kurt’s neck.