Fic: This Is the Story of a Boy, Part IV: What If This Is Just the Beginning, chapter i
Title: This Is the Story of a Boy; Part IV: What If This Is Just The Beginning, chapter i
Author: patchfire
Rating: overall, NC-17; this chapter, PG-13, I guess
Characters(s): Puck, Kurt, Finn, Puck/Kurt, Furt brothership
Genre: romance
Warnings: none
Spoilers: Canon compilant through 2x22
Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me. It'd be better if it did.
Author Notes: Anddd, here we go. :)
Beta: My best girl, my raving_liberal, my Finn <3
Summary: This is the story of a boy; this is the story of three boys. Two brothers, two best friends, two lovers.
Summary for Part IV: Songs, texting, walks, meals, secrets: convincing.
Chapter Summary: Confessions, and Puck wonders if it wouldn't be easier to sing about it.
Word Count: 5316
Part I
Part II
Part III
This Is the Story of a Boy
Part IV: What If This Is Just the Beginning
chapter i
Two weeks pass after the day that Puck privately refers to as "I made Kurt Hummel drive crazy." It's not quite as good as "I drove Kurt Hummel crazy," but at least it's sort of similar. In Puck's head. The way Puck looks at it, he's pretty lucky. His best friend is miraculously cool with Puck's new revelation (thanks, Puck is sure, in no small part to Kurt), and since his mom and Hannah know and most of the Hudmels know, he's got two places that he feels safe. Like he can let his guard down.
One more year.
When he heads over to the Hudmel household on Tuesday, Finn's running late, and Kurt's doing something involving dough in the kitchen. "What're you making?"
"Pizza. It tastes better if you make the dough yourself."
"Yeah? Cool."
"Are you working tomorrow?"
Puck shakes his head. "Nah, not tomorrow. Thought I'd sleep in. You know, until at least 7 or 8." He fakes a yawn to emphasize his point.
"Want to take a road trip with me?" Kurt makes a face. "Dad needs a part, it's up in Detroit, and sending me to get it is apparently cheaper and faster than shipping it."
"Okay. Can we leave at like, 9 or something."
"9:30, and I'll bring doughnuts."
"Awesome."
Finn swings into the kitchen then. "What's awesome?"
"Doughnuts."
"Yeah, doughnuts are awesome." He looks around the kitchen and frowns.
"Not that we have any right now, Finn," Kurt says patiently.
"Oh. Damn." He flashes a smile at both of them anyway. "What're you making?"
"Pizza dough."
Finn's eyes light up. "Awesome. Dude," he addresses Puck, "you gotta stay for dinner, homemade pizza's the best ever."
"Okay," Puck shrugs, and lets Finn tug him towards the living room. "Just no olives."
"No problem," Kurt responds smoothly, wiping his hands. "I don't like olives on my pizza either."
"Yeah, so none of us get them," Finn mock-complains from the floor, his back leaning against the couch.
"Whatever, like I care." Puck pushes Finn to the side slightly before dropping down beside him.
"You want to play, Kurt?"
"Not now," Kurt says. "I have to figure out if the Automotive Hall of Fame is open tomorrow."
Carole ends up suggesting that Puck just stay the night, and Finn offers to give him a ride home to grab a bag. Puck isn't sure that this is the best idea ever, but it does sound easier and more than a little tempting, so he agrees. He pulls Mrs. H aside and tells her that she can tell Mr. H about him if she thinks he ought to know. He doesn't want to get on Mr. H's bad side, for so many reasons.
She just nods and says she'll take care of it, and when they get back, Burt just nods and says "Puckerman, you can sleep on the fold-out couch down here." Burt fixes him with a long look before going upstairs, and Puck's sufficiently cowed that he doesn't even consider trying to go up the stairs for so much as a toothbrush.
Which he had forgotten.
He wakes up a little after seven, and tries to go back to sleep, but instead lies there, realizing that he's got to finish the story with Kurt, and Kurt's inadvertently handed him the perfect opportunity.
Shit.
Kurt heads upstairs with his brow furrowed a little, slipping into the bathroom just ahead of Finn with a smirk. When he emerges, he heads to his bedroom and sits down in front of the computer to look at the map once more.
After a few minutes, Finn raps on Kurt’s door frame. Kurt looks up and smiles briefly. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Finn grins and comes into the room, flumping unceremoniously onto Kurt’s bed. “So, it’s weird.”
Kurt just blinks. “What’s weird?”
“This thing with Puck,” Finn says. “It’s just weird.”
“I’m sorry that the queers are taking over,” Kurt says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Puck,” Finn explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Your dad is making him sleep on the fold-out downstairs. It’s just so weird.”
Kurt sighs. “That would be... my fault, I suppose.”
“You wanted him to sleep downstairs? That’s weird, too. I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t slept over here about a hundred times. I don’t see why anything has changed.” Finn makes a face. It’s probably his thinking face, but it’s also a little bit of a sad face, too.
“Nooo. Not that.” Kurt purses his lips. “Back in March, after that ill-fated party at Rachel’s, do you remember what we did with the oh-so-inebriated Blaine?”
“Yeah, we dumped him in your bed,” Finn says. “You were worried he was going to wander off if we left him on the sofa and I didn’t want him to puke on the recliner.”
“Yes, well. The next morning, Dad found him there. Dad... was quite unhappy.”
“But you guys weren’t even dating then.”
“But he was gay.” Kurt shrugs. “It was deemed inappropriate.”
“Your dad’s pretty cool, but...” Finn pulls a face. “That’s sorta. Yeah.”
“Yes,” Kurt agrees, still frowning. “Afterwards, Dad had me promise that I wouldn’t have any more sleepovers with any guys that might be gay. So I assume Puck either told Dad, or your mom did.”
“Puck never sleeps in here, though,” Finn says, looking confused. “He sleeps on the floor in my room. He’s been doing that since we all moved in here and he hasn’t made a pass at either of us yet. It’s not like he suddenly stopped being Puck and turned into one of those guys from Cops.”
“I don’t know,” Kurt sighs. “All I know is that it’s inappropriate to have another guy in my room if he might be gay, according to my dad.” His jaw tightens a little. “When... Brittany?” He quirks an eyebrow to see if Finn understands what he means. Finn nods. “He said, ‘you kids have fun and be safe.’”
“That’s...no offense to Burt or anything, but that’s kind of douchey, dude.” Finn looks pissed. “I know he does a pretty good job of being supportive and everything, most of the time, but sometimes...”
“No, I know.” Kurt sighs, a little sadly. Because his father is still a blue-collar guy from rural Ohio, no matter hard he tries for Kurt’s sake. It’s still trying. It’s not automatic.
“Anyway, I’m still confused. Puck doesn’t even go in your room much. He definitely doesn’t sleep in here, like, ever. Is there anything else or is it just...dumbassery?” Finn looks like he’s really trying to figure this out, but he’s coming up short no matter how he tries to figure it.
Kurt shrugs. “As far as I know, it’s just the latter.”
“Well, that blows, dude.” Finn blushes. “Um. No pun intended or anything.’
“Oh, lord, Finn,” Kurt groans and shakes his head.
Finn grins, a little abashed. “Sorry. Sometimes I just can’t control the stuff that comes out of my mouth. It’s just, I know I shouldn’t say it, but it’s right there, and the next thing I know, bam.”
“It’s called a brain-to-mouth filter, brother dearest,” Kurt says dryly.
“I don’t think I have that,” Finn muses. “I think I’m filterless.”
Kurt laughs. “I don’t know anyone that would disagree.”
As promised, they don't leave until 9:30, and they stop ten minutes later for a dozen doughnuts. They fight over the last fudge-iced doughnut, each of them drinking a large cup of coffee. For thirty minutes, at least, Puck forgets that he wanted to finish talking to Kurt.
Telling Kurt sounds a lot harder than just enjoying their time together. He could just pretend in his mind that it's a date, the way he's been doing, subconsciously and then consciously, since April. It sounds easy in the moment, as it always does. Puck's going to hate himself if he doesn't say something, though. It's a perfect opportunity. And what if Puck experiences some good luck?
Deep breaths. He keeps repeating that he'll hate himself that night, tomorrow, if he doesn't gather up his courage and say things that he doesn't quite have words for.
Puck actually laughs for a split second when it occurs to him that the solution, were it not summer, would be to sing about it during glee club.
"What's funny?"
"Oh, uh. Remember I said I had another part of the story to tell you? And I was thinking that if it weren't summer, I could just, you know. Sing about it."
Kurt laughs, too. "Mr. Schue would be proud of your initiative. As long as you didn't want to sing it during a competition," he adds, making a slight face.
Puck nods, rolling his eyes in agreement. "Do you think it's the height difference between the two of them?"
Chuckles escape Kurt's mouth. "With Schue, who really knows?" He shrugs and glances at Puck briefly. "You want to talk?"
"Yes. And no." Puck grimaces but manages to turn into a small smile. "It's just. Scary? This part I didn't tell anyone else."
"Oh." Kurt sounds a little surprised, but Puck also recognizes the pleased note in that one word, too. Puck fights the urge to smile fondly, and he's pretty sure it would be one of those sappy, fond smiles, like Finn gets when he sees Rachel, or like Mike and Tina share. "And here I was hoping I was suddenly scary," Kurt says mischievously.
"You're always scary," Puck spits out quickly. "Really. Very, very scary."
"Thanks," Kurt responds wryly. "Now stop distracting yourself. Or pick a song and sing it a cappella."
Puck snorts, then starts talking. "When I realized, when I put all the pieces together, I started doing a lot of things." The words pour out of him, and he's both unwilling and unable to damn them up. "I watched that show, Queer as Folk, which was really awesome, even though I didn't really like Brian as much as all the stuff I read online said I would." Puck sees Kurt smiling slightly, but he doesn't interrupt, so Puck keeps talking. "And I read things, and well. I've got a good imagination, so it was easy to confirm, I guess, that I was gay." Puck pauses to snort. "Undeniably so. And it was incredibly hot. I kept the door closed because of what I was watching but also, well. It's just that… it wasn't enough, I liked watching Ben and Michael, too, because they were so solid, a unit, and that was kind of different for me. To want that." He stops to take a breath and a drink of his cooling coffee, and sees Kurt just nod once. "And it wasn't too big a leap from there to figure out exactly what I wanted. A picture in my head. I sort of lied earlier, that wasn't the first time I thought about just finding a song. Would you believe someone actually wrote a perfect one? I'd never heard of them, they're from Ireland or something, but it was just perfect, and I listened to it about forty times. And by then." Puck stops and leans forward in his seat, hands running over his face.
"I knew what I wanted. Exactly what I wanted. But I also knew who."
"So you do like someone."
"No. I mean, yes, but that seems… trivial. I know what I want, and I know who, and it's not going to change." Puck smiles a little sadly. "I may be eighteen, but sometimes I feel like I've lived forty years already. I'm done playing around, Kurt. I'm done. I know who I want, and that's it. Finite."
Kurt furrows his brow. "But-and I don't mean to be discouraging, Puck, you know that-but what if he doesn't want the same things? It's not highly likely at this age."
"Then it's my job to convince y-him." Puck winces at the slip, but Kurt doesn't seem to notice it.
"Yes, I guess I can see that," Kurt responds, a hint of laughter in his voice. "You would see that as your job."
"It's not a bad one," Puck counters, and Kurt nods his acknowledgment.
"Oh, sorry to interrupt," Kurt says all of the sudden, tone more business-like. "The welcome center is just up here, do you want to stop?"
Puck nods. Yeah, because he wants to see Kurt's face if he's going to do this. Or at least not cause a wreck. "Yeah, sounds good. Maybe grab a snack."
Kurt nods and Puck falls silent as they approach the welcome center and then park. They walk in amicable silence towards the restrooms, then the vending machines.
"So," Kurt finally speaks again as they sit down at one of the picnic tables, two sodas, three bags of chips, and four candy bars between them. "Who is he? Do I know him?"
Puck nods, and swallows, then looks away, suddenly fascinated by the bird pecking at the ground near the picnic table.
"Okay," Kurt says softly after a long moment, and reaches across the table very briefly, squeezing Puck's hand. Puck fights the urge to close his eyes as the feel of Kurt's touch flashes throughout him.
"Before we get home," Puck manages. "Today."
"Okay," Kurt repeats, and they finish their snack, Puck pausing periodically to throw the bird crumbs.
Picking up the part takes less than ten minutes, in the end, and Kurt frowns slightly as they go through the drive-thru for lunch. "Automotive Hall of Fame and the Motown Museum are both open until 5 or 6. Want to go to either or both?"
"Yeah, let's. Which one closes first?"
"Automotive Hall of Fame."
"Need me to navigate?"
"Please."
As they make their way to the museum, Kurt purses his lips, taking in the landscape, and finally sighs. "I thought Ohio was bad, but I am so glad I do not live in Detroit."
"Yeah." Puck winces. "I knew the economy was bad, but this… this is something else."
They spend a couple of hours at the Automotive Hall of Fame before deciding to head towards the Motown Museum, and the twenty minutes between the two passes quickly, Puck proud that they haven't gotten lost yet.
The Motown Museum ends up being even more interesting than Puck thought it would be, and they're at the end of the exhibits when they sit down halfway through one of those five minute looping videos. When it comes back to the part where they started, Kurt doesn't make a move to get up, and somehow, Puck finds his voice. Even though no one else is around, he still speaks softly. "You."
"What?" Kurt whispers, still focusing on the screen.
"You. It's you." Puck determinedly stares at the screen as well, fighting the urge to clench his hands into tight fists.
He can sense Kurt stiffen slightly, and he closes his eyes briefly. At least there wasn't any laughing or yelling. Yet.
Then Kurt grabs his hand, tugging him up and out, Puck thankful that they managed to get through the museum before he had his confessional moment. Kurt's hand tightens around his as they proceed quickly out the exit and towards a bench, and Puck just wants to know what it means. The bench is hot from the sun, but Kurt perches on it determinedly, pulling Puck down beside him.
"You don't want me," Kurt says, a little bit of surprise and a bit of sadness both coloring his voice, and Puck thinks-hopes-that he understands what Kurt isn't saying. "Maybe you think you do," Kurt continues, voice still a little pained. "Your selection of available partners is limited, after all."
Puck's shaking his head, and he can't decide whether to answer Kurt's spoken or unspoken objections first. He is carefully still, because Kurt hasn't let go of Puck's hand. He's probably forgotten, but Puck's not going to complain. "First, I didn't… I didn't think of you and then realize all the reasons it was you. I was thinking of what I wanted, and then it hit me that I didn't have to go look for it. You were right in front of me."
"Still…" and the pained tone is still present, but a little stronger.
"And why wouldn't I? Why not?" Puck's voice is a little rougher, a little challenging.
"We're so different," Kurt says, his voice a little higher in his distress. "I'll get on your nerves. I'm high-maintenance and I know I can be annoying. You like sex, I'm not sexy--"
"Whoa. Hold on." Puck's hands move, unbidden, and he keeps the one wrapped around Kurt's hand tight. "You're what? Seriously? You really think that?" He probably sounds angry, but then, he kind of is. He's angry that someone or something made Kurt think he wasn't sexy.
Kurt looks over at him, then, eyes wide, and he nods, then shakes his head, confused. "I'm not, Blaine said so, David only kissed me because he was so mixed-up and angry, and-"
"Okay, we're going to come back and talk about that second one some day," Puck growls out, because he's not really okay with the mental image he has now. "And Blaine, I think we've previously established, was a fucking douchebag. Why would you take anything he said seriously?" Puck's staring straight into Kurt's eyes now, and he'd probably find their conversation awkward and scary, both, if he wasn't so angry. "I mean it, Kurt. You're unbelievably sexy." He controls himself enough to smirk. "Really, I'd be happy to convince you."
"Oh, stop," Kurt lowers his eyes but smiles a bit, and Puck knows the topic of conversation isn't closed, but it's no longer at a crisis level. He squeezes Kurt's hand again, and this time, he gets an answering squeeze.
"What's the real reason?" Puck dares to ask, because there wasn't any laughing or yelling, and in Puck's head, that means he still has a chance.
Kurt shrugs, and still won't look at Puck. His reply is so soft that Puck almost does hear it. "Scary."
"Me?"
There's a shake of his head. "No. What you say you want, what you're offering."
"How so?"
"Because it's everything. And we are different. It wouldn't be perfect, no matter what you've thought through."
"No, it wouldn't be." Puck smiles a little. "It'd be better. You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because it won't be perfect. Like this year, it's going to be hell at school part of time. Sometimes you're going to wish I was out, and sometimes I'm going to wish I was out, but other times we'll be just fine with it until we can leave. Sometime during college, one of us is going to wonder if we picked our one person too soon. I'm still going to dress like me, and you're still going to dress like you, and when we're twenty-five, I'm going to ruin some of your clothes in the laundry, despite you telling me for years what to do. Sometimes we're going to fight, and we might say awful things. But at the end of it, at the end of it all, we're going to have really awesome make-up sex, and we'll still be together. And the good times are going to be so good, and they'll be better because of the not-so-good times, and they're going to outnumber the bad times." Puck says it all in a rush, and he knows that if Finn and Kurt ever compare notes, his secret rom-com viewing habit will no longer be a secret.
"Oh," Kurt says, quiet, but there's a hint of wonder in his voice.
"Let me convince you," Puck finally continues. "I said that would have to be my job, so let me do my job. Just… don't flirt with anyone else or see anyone else, because…"
"It'd piss you off?" Kurt finishes the sentence.
"No," Puck shakes his head. "I mean, yeah, I'd act pissed, but really I'd just be… hurt. You know."
Now it's Kurt squeezing Puck's hand, and it brings a smile to Puck's face. "Okay," Kurt says after a few moments of silence. "Convince me, Noah Puckerman."
"Mission accepted. And before I attempt any other convincing, I think I should convince you that it's time to drive back to Lima."
"Oh, shit!" Kurt checks the time on his phone and stands up. "You're right. What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?"
"Six," Puck admits with a wince. It's closer to seven than six-thirty, and it'll take three hours by the time they go through rush hour traffic and eat some dinner, even if they grab more drive-through cuisine.
"I am so sorry," Kurt apologizes as they reach the Navigator. "Seriously. I'd say I'd bring you a coffee tomorrow, but well. That'd be a little ridiculous."
Puck laughs. "Just a little bit, Kurt. Just a little bit."
When Puck gets home, it's almost 10:30, and he barely says hello to his mom before heading to bed. He pokes his head inside Hannah's room, but she's asleep, as she should be, and Puck can't help but envy her a little. He lied to Kurt; the store opens at 6, but he really needs to be there at 5:30 since he's the only one opening. That means waking up at 5 am.
He takes the time to find a good YouTube version of "Pictures in My Head," anyway, and readies a text for Kurt that he'll send sometime in the morning. Self-appointed task complete, Puck falls into bed, a little more hopeful than he was the last time he slept in his bed.
Five am is just as painful as Puck had imagined it, but he reminds himself that he can have a huge cup of coffee, free, in less than hour, so he gets dressed and walks the fifteen minutes to work. He waves at the officer who sits in the Rite Aid lot, remembers to drop off his sister's library books, and unlocks the door of the Starbucks right at 5:30. It's easy to go through his routine, because he's been doing it for so long now, and by the time the first bleary-eyed medical professional stumbles in, Puck's downed a venti cup himself, spiked with a shot of espresso. He remembers to send the text to Kurt when there's a lull just before 7:45, and then it's close to ten before he can take a break.
He's only been back at the counter for a few minutes, and business is still slow, when a familiar figure slips in the door. Puck finishes the drink he's fixing, hands it to the older woman waiting, and leans across the counter. "What can I get you?"
"Oh, a little of this, a little of that." Kurt smiles in return. "First," and Kurt slides a bag across the counter. "It's not coffee, but it is a little bit of an apology."
"You didn't-"
"I know, I wanted to," Kurt counters before Puck can finish talking, and Puck just accepts the bag and stows it under the counter before gesturing to Kurt to continue. "And you know what I want to drink."
"Of course. And I may have saved you the last two of these." Puck reaches into the pastry display and pulls a plate from under the bottom shelf, two little red velvet whoopie pies perched on it.
"May have?"
"I could always eat them myself."
"No, mine!" Kurt asserts, and pulls the plate close. "Oh, here," he remembers the bills crumpled in his hand. "Put the change in your little tip-bucket. Since you saved me whoopie pies."
"The way to a man's heart really is through his stomach," Puck counters wryly as he finishes ringing up the total, and then moves to the side to start on Kurt's drink.
"I like the song," Kurt says after a moment, as Puck works.
"Yeah?"
"Mmm-hmm. I think it'd sound better with an acoustic guitar inside of the heavy synth, but I like the tune. And the lyrics."
"I think so too," Puck agrees, expertly topping Kurt's coffee with whipped cream. "I've been working on it, but I can't quite get the bridge how I want it. One super-sugary coffee drink, lid on the side," he announces with a flourish, and Kurt laughs, scooping the whipped cream off the top with his finger before putting the lid on.
"Thank you, kind sir," he adds, bowing his head ever so slightly.
When it's Puck's turn for lunch, he reaches for the bag Kurt brought him and pulls out the glass container. Ohh. Leftover veggie lasagna. Puck's not sure how leftover lasagna survived in the Hudmel household, though he suspects that Finn and Burt both heard "vegetable" and thought "healthy." Puck knows better, though; there's enough cheese in Kurt's lasagna to clog anyone's arteries. He sticks it in the microwave and taps his fork impatiently on the counter.
"What is that smell? I want your lunch!" One of Puck's coworkers stops and eyes the microwave a little too interestedly, at least in Puck's mind.
"No! Mine!" Puck raises his eyebrows, pretending to slap at her hands with the fork. "And it's homemade lasagna."
"Damn," she smiles. "Someone loves you." She walks off then, helping a customer just as the microwave beeps. Puck pulls out his lasagna a little numbly, and walks to one of the outside tables to eat.
No, Kurt doesn't love him, not the way he wants to be loved, not yet. Or not consciously, which an intriguing possibility. Because Puck knows Kurt well enough to know that there isn't anyone else in the city getting lunch hand-delivered by Kurt, except Kurt's dad. Not Finn, not Mercedes or Rachel, and not even Blaine back when Kurt was still with him.
Yet Kurt brought him lunch. And no, it's not far from his house--nothing is far from anything, really, in Lima--but Puck's pretty sure that Thursday mornings are when Kurt's working on his bizarre musical about that British girl Pippa. Not for running errands. Not for bringing lunch to Starbucks baristas.
Puck furrows his brow. Come to think of it, when did the Hudmels even have lasagna recently?
Kurt and Puck fall into their usual routine on Thursday afternoon, Finn and Puck playing video games while Kurt does other things. Puck heads home for dinner, because he's gotten three texts from Hannah telling him that he's required (by her) to eat dinner with them that night, since he missed dinner the past two nights. Puck hangs out with Finn and Sam on Friday night, and when he wakes up Saturday morning, he can't decide what to do. Usually he works for a few hours on Saturday, but he swapped with one of the new people, who drew Sunday, and she wants to go to church or something. It's only 7 am, though, and he curses his body's ability to adapt to early wake up calls. He shrugs and takes a shower anyway. He pauses while getting dressed and knocks on his mom's door.
"Hey, Mom," he calls softly at her answering grunt. "Want me to take Hannah to temple today? You sleep in?"
"Thanks," comes the answering call a moment later. "You can take the car. Straight there and straight back," she admonishes, and Puck sighs but agrees, knowing that he probably deserves it.
Puck pours cereal for both of them and gets Hannah ready. His mom tries to take her most weeks, and his nana will take Hannah other times, but it's rare that Puck goes. Sometimes it's intentional, but lately it's just been his work schedule.
He breaks his promise to his mom and heads over to Ray's to get a rotisserie chicken for lunch, but he figures she won't mind too much. When he gets back home, his mother is holding up his phone, frowning. "You forgot something."
"Sorry," he apologizes. "I didn't think we took that long at the store." And they hadn't--just ten or fifteen minutes to get the chicken and a few other things.
"No, but I think you have about ten missed text messages."
"Oh." Puck grabs it and puts up the groceries one-handed as he reads through them. Two are from Finn, asking a question about Rachel; Puck snorts, because he just saw Rachel this morning at temple with her dads. There's another from Brittany, something about her cat having a crush on a dog that lives in Puck's building. The last three are from Kurt, and he stops putting up the groceries to focus on those three fully. The first one is just a good morning, what are you doing kind of text, and the next one is about thirty minutes later. Oh, I bet you're at Temple. Sorry! The last one is from just fifteen minutes before. Want to hit the beach? It's already super-hot.
Puck nods unconsciously and responds almost immediately. Beach sounds great. Just starting lunch. Pick me up in an hour?
The phone buzzes almost immediately and the swiftness of the reply makes Puck smiled. Sure. See you then!
Hannah disappears onto her room, talking on the phone, as soon as they finish eating, and Puck's mom retreats into hers as well, telling Puck something about a great new book and thanks for grabbing it at the library. All of this means that no one is watching Puck being ridiculous as he looks out the window, watching for Kurt. Kurt pulls up almost exactly an hour from the time of Puck's text, and Puck takes the opportunity to just watch Kurt. He steps out of the Navigator as if he's stepping onto a red carpet, head held high, sunglasses perched his nose. He's wearing swim trunks, flip flops, and a t-shirt, and Puck's not ashamed that he's drinking in the chance to look at Kurt's bare legs and feet. Usually Kurt's wearing long pants, even in the summer, or if he wears shorts, they're longer than these swim trunks, and he's still got on crazy boots.
There's another part of Puck, of course, that sort of hates that anyone can see Kurt's legs and feet right now, but he consoles himself with the thought that very few, if any, of the people near Kurt would be young and gay.
Kurt disappears into the entrance of the building, and Puck grabs his towel off the bed, shouting out a farewell to his sister, then stopping to talk to his mother for just a minute. They finish talking just as Kurt knocks. "Bye, Mom."
"Have fun, Noah."
Puck swings the door open and pulls it shut behind him, stepping into the hallway. "Hey."
"Hey," Kurt smiles his response. "I guess you're ready."
Puck shrugs. "It's hot." He lets his eyes graze over Kurt for just a moment and smirks, letting it hang between them rather than saying it out loud.
"Stop it," Kurt rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, and they spend the short drive over to the "beach" laughing at the podcast Kurt found: a bunch of different words for "hot," all put into song format. They spend the rest of the afternoon alternating between the water and lying on their towels, and finish the day with the Deluxe Saturday Night Buffet at Old Barn Out Back. Puck's not sure if he's doing a good job of convincing Kurt or not. So far, he feels like they're just doing the same things they've done all summer, but then, that's what got him falling in love with Kurt, so it can't be an awful idea.
That, and he pays for dinner.
Author: patchfire
Rating: overall, NC-17; this chapter, PG-13, I guess
Characters(s): Puck, Kurt, Finn, Puck/Kurt, Furt brothership
Genre: romance
Warnings: none
Spoilers: Canon compilant through 2x22
Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me. It'd be better if it did.
Author Notes: Anddd, here we go. :)
Beta: My best girl, my raving_liberal, my Finn <3
Summary: This is the story of a boy; this is the story of three boys. Two brothers, two best friends, two lovers.
Summary for Part IV: Songs, texting, walks, meals, secrets: convincing.
Chapter Summary: Confessions, and Puck wonders if it wouldn't be easier to sing about it.
Word Count: 5316
Part I
Part II
Part III
This Is the Story of a Boy
Part IV: What If This Is Just the Beginning
chapter i
Two weeks pass after the day that Puck privately refers to as "I made Kurt Hummel drive crazy." It's not quite as good as "I drove Kurt Hummel crazy," but at least it's sort of similar. In Puck's head. The way Puck looks at it, he's pretty lucky. His best friend is miraculously cool with Puck's new revelation (thanks, Puck is sure, in no small part to Kurt), and since his mom and Hannah know and most of the Hudmels know, he's got two places that he feels safe. Like he can let his guard down.
One more year.
When he heads over to the Hudmel household on Tuesday, Finn's running late, and Kurt's doing something involving dough in the kitchen. "What're you making?"
"Pizza. It tastes better if you make the dough yourself."
"Yeah? Cool."
"Are you working tomorrow?"
Puck shakes his head. "Nah, not tomorrow. Thought I'd sleep in. You know, until at least 7 or 8." He fakes a yawn to emphasize his point.
"Want to take a road trip with me?" Kurt makes a face. "Dad needs a part, it's up in Detroit, and sending me to get it is apparently cheaper and faster than shipping it."
"Okay. Can we leave at like, 9 or something."
"9:30, and I'll bring doughnuts."
"Awesome."
Finn swings into the kitchen then. "What's awesome?"
"Doughnuts."
"Yeah, doughnuts are awesome." He looks around the kitchen and frowns.
"Not that we have any right now, Finn," Kurt says patiently.
"Oh. Damn." He flashes a smile at both of them anyway. "What're you making?"
"Pizza dough."
Finn's eyes light up. "Awesome. Dude," he addresses Puck, "you gotta stay for dinner, homemade pizza's the best ever."
"Okay," Puck shrugs, and lets Finn tug him towards the living room. "Just no olives."
"No problem," Kurt responds smoothly, wiping his hands. "I don't like olives on my pizza either."
"Yeah, so none of us get them," Finn mock-complains from the floor, his back leaning against the couch.
"Whatever, like I care." Puck pushes Finn to the side slightly before dropping down beside him.
"You want to play, Kurt?"
"Not now," Kurt says. "I have to figure out if the Automotive Hall of Fame is open tomorrow."
Carole ends up suggesting that Puck just stay the night, and Finn offers to give him a ride home to grab a bag. Puck isn't sure that this is the best idea ever, but it does sound easier and more than a little tempting, so he agrees. He pulls Mrs. H aside and tells her that she can tell Mr. H about him if she thinks he ought to know. He doesn't want to get on Mr. H's bad side, for so many reasons.
She just nods and says she'll take care of it, and when they get back, Burt just nods and says "Puckerman, you can sleep on the fold-out couch down here." Burt fixes him with a long look before going upstairs, and Puck's sufficiently cowed that he doesn't even consider trying to go up the stairs for so much as a toothbrush.
Which he had forgotten.
He wakes up a little after seven, and tries to go back to sleep, but instead lies there, realizing that he's got to finish the story with Kurt, and Kurt's inadvertently handed him the perfect opportunity.
Shit.
Kurt heads upstairs with his brow furrowed a little, slipping into the bathroom just ahead of Finn with a smirk. When he emerges, he heads to his bedroom and sits down in front of the computer to look at the map once more.
After a few minutes, Finn raps on Kurt’s door frame. Kurt looks up and smiles briefly. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Finn grins and comes into the room, flumping unceremoniously onto Kurt’s bed. “So, it’s weird.”
Kurt just blinks. “What’s weird?”
“This thing with Puck,” Finn says. “It’s just weird.”
“I’m sorry that the queers are taking over,” Kurt says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Puck,” Finn explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Your dad is making him sleep on the fold-out downstairs. It’s just so weird.”
Kurt sighs. “That would be... my fault, I suppose.”
“You wanted him to sleep downstairs? That’s weird, too. I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t slept over here about a hundred times. I don’t see why anything has changed.” Finn makes a face. It’s probably his thinking face, but it’s also a little bit of a sad face, too.
“Nooo. Not that.” Kurt purses his lips. “Back in March, after that ill-fated party at Rachel’s, do you remember what we did with the oh-so-inebriated Blaine?”
“Yeah, we dumped him in your bed,” Finn says. “You were worried he was going to wander off if we left him on the sofa and I didn’t want him to puke on the recliner.”
“Yes, well. The next morning, Dad found him there. Dad... was quite unhappy.”
“But you guys weren’t even dating then.”
“But he was gay.” Kurt shrugs. “It was deemed inappropriate.”
“Your dad’s pretty cool, but...” Finn pulls a face. “That’s sorta. Yeah.”
“Yes,” Kurt agrees, still frowning. “Afterwards, Dad had me promise that I wouldn’t have any more sleepovers with any guys that might be gay. So I assume Puck either told Dad, or your mom did.”
“Puck never sleeps in here, though,” Finn says, looking confused. “He sleeps on the floor in my room. He’s been doing that since we all moved in here and he hasn’t made a pass at either of us yet. It’s not like he suddenly stopped being Puck and turned into one of those guys from Cops.”
“I don’t know,” Kurt sighs. “All I know is that it’s inappropriate to have another guy in my room if he might be gay, according to my dad.” His jaw tightens a little. “When... Brittany?” He quirks an eyebrow to see if Finn understands what he means. Finn nods. “He said, ‘you kids have fun and be safe.’”
“That’s...no offense to Burt or anything, but that’s kind of douchey, dude.” Finn looks pissed. “I know he does a pretty good job of being supportive and everything, most of the time, but sometimes...”
“No, I know.” Kurt sighs, a little sadly. Because his father is still a blue-collar guy from rural Ohio, no matter hard he tries for Kurt’s sake. It’s still trying. It’s not automatic.
“Anyway, I’m still confused. Puck doesn’t even go in your room much. He definitely doesn’t sleep in here, like, ever. Is there anything else or is it just...dumbassery?” Finn looks like he’s really trying to figure this out, but he’s coming up short no matter how he tries to figure it.
Kurt shrugs. “As far as I know, it’s just the latter.”
“Well, that blows, dude.” Finn blushes. “Um. No pun intended or anything.’
“Oh, lord, Finn,” Kurt groans and shakes his head.
Finn grins, a little abashed. “Sorry. Sometimes I just can’t control the stuff that comes out of my mouth. It’s just, I know I shouldn’t say it, but it’s right there, and the next thing I know, bam.”
“It’s called a brain-to-mouth filter, brother dearest,” Kurt says dryly.
“I don’t think I have that,” Finn muses. “I think I’m filterless.”
Kurt laughs. “I don’t know anyone that would disagree.”
As promised, they don't leave until 9:30, and they stop ten minutes later for a dozen doughnuts. They fight over the last fudge-iced doughnut, each of them drinking a large cup of coffee. For thirty minutes, at least, Puck forgets that he wanted to finish talking to Kurt.
Telling Kurt sounds a lot harder than just enjoying their time together. He could just pretend in his mind that it's a date, the way he's been doing, subconsciously and then consciously, since April. It sounds easy in the moment, as it always does. Puck's going to hate himself if he doesn't say something, though. It's a perfect opportunity. And what if Puck experiences some good luck?
Deep breaths. He keeps repeating that he'll hate himself that night, tomorrow, if he doesn't gather up his courage and say things that he doesn't quite have words for.
Puck actually laughs for a split second when it occurs to him that the solution, were it not summer, would be to sing about it during glee club.
"What's funny?"
"Oh, uh. Remember I said I had another part of the story to tell you? And I was thinking that if it weren't summer, I could just, you know. Sing about it."
Kurt laughs, too. "Mr. Schue would be proud of your initiative. As long as you didn't want to sing it during a competition," he adds, making a slight face.
Puck nods, rolling his eyes in agreement. "Do you think it's the height difference between the two of them?"
Chuckles escape Kurt's mouth. "With Schue, who really knows?" He shrugs and glances at Puck briefly. "You want to talk?"
"Yes. And no." Puck grimaces but manages to turn into a small smile. "It's just. Scary? This part I didn't tell anyone else."
"Oh." Kurt sounds a little surprised, but Puck also recognizes the pleased note in that one word, too. Puck fights the urge to smile fondly, and he's pretty sure it would be one of those sappy, fond smiles, like Finn gets when he sees Rachel, or like Mike and Tina share. "And here I was hoping I was suddenly scary," Kurt says mischievously.
"You're always scary," Puck spits out quickly. "Really. Very, very scary."
"Thanks," Kurt responds wryly. "Now stop distracting yourself. Or pick a song and sing it a cappella."
Puck snorts, then starts talking. "When I realized, when I put all the pieces together, I started doing a lot of things." The words pour out of him, and he's both unwilling and unable to damn them up. "I watched that show, Queer as Folk, which was really awesome, even though I didn't really like Brian as much as all the stuff I read online said I would." Puck sees Kurt smiling slightly, but he doesn't interrupt, so Puck keeps talking. "And I read things, and well. I've got a good imagination, so it was easy to confirm, I guess, that I was gay." Puck pauses to snort. "Undeniably so. And it was incredibly hot. I kept the door closed because of what I was watching but also, well. It's just that… it wasn't enough, I liked watching Ben and Michael, too, because they were so solid, a unit, and that was kind of different for me. To want that." He stops to take a breath and a drink of his cooling coffee, and sees Kurt just nod once. "And it wasn't too big a leap from there to figure out exactly what I wanted. A picture in my head. I sort of lied earlier, that wasn't the first time I thought about just finding a song. Would you believe someone actually wrote a perfect one? I'd never heard of them, they're from Ireland or something, but it was just perfect, and I listened to it about forty times. And by then." Puck stops and leans forward in his seat, hands running over his face.
"I knew what I wanted. Exactly what I wanted. But I also knew who."
"So you do like someone."
"No. I mean, yes, but that seems… trivial. I know what I want, and I know who, and it's not going to change." Puck smiles a little sadly. "I may be eighteen, but sometimes I feel like I've lived forty years already. I'm done playing around, Kurt. I'm done. I know who I want, and that's it. Finite."
Kurt furrows his brow. "But-and I don't mean to be discouraging, Puck, you know that-but what if he doesn't want the same things? It's not highly likely at this age."
"Then it's my job to convince y-him." Puck winces at the slip, but Kurt doesn't seem to notice it.
"Yes, I guess I can see that," Kurt responds, a hint of laughter in his voice. "You would see that as your job."
"It's not a bad one," Puck counters, and Kurt nods his acknowledgment.
"Oh, sorry to interrupt," Kurt says all of the sudden, tone more business-like. "The welcome center is just up here, do you want to stop?"
Puck nods. Yeah, because he wants to see Kurt's face if he's going to do this. Or at least not cause a wreck. "Yeah, sounds good. Maybe grab a snack."
Kurt nods and Puck falls silent as they approach the welcome center and then park. They walk in amicable silence towards the restrooms, then the vending machines.
"So," Kurt finally speaks again as they sit down at one of the picnic tables, two sodas, three bags of chips, and four candy bars between them. "Who is he? Do I know him?"
Puck nods, and swallows, then looks away, suddenly fascinated by the bird pecking at the ground near the picnic table.
"Okay," Kurt says softly after a long moment, and reaches across the table very briefly, squeezing Puck's hand. Puck fights the urge to close his eyes as the feel of Kurt's touch flashes throughout him.
"Before we get home," Puck manages. "Today."
"Okay," Kurt repeats, and they finish their snack, Puck pausing periodically to throw the bird crumbs.
Picking up the part takes less than ten minutes, in the end, and Kurt frowns slightly as they go through the drive-thru for lunch. "Automotive Hall of Fame and the Motown Museum are both open until 5 or 6. Want to go to either or both?"
"Yeah, let's. Which one closes first?"
"Automotive Hall of Fame."
"Need me to navigate?"
"Please."
As they make their way to the museum, Kurt purses his lips, taking in the landscape, and finally sighs. "I thought Ohio was bad, but I am so glad I do not live in Detroit."
"Yeah." Puck winces. "I knew the economy was bad, but this… this is something else."
They spend a couple of hours at the Automotive Hall of Fame before deciding to head towards the Motown Museum, and the twenty minutes between the two passes quickly, Puck proud that they haven't gotten lost yet.
The Motown Museum ends up being even more interesting than Puck thought it would be, and they're at the end of the exhibits when they sit down halfway through one of those five minute looping videos. When it comes back to the part where they started, Kurt doesn't make a move to get up, and somehow, Puck finds his voice. Even though no one else is around, he still speaks softly. "You."
"What?" Kurt whispers, still focusing on the screen.
"You. It's you." Puck determinedly stares at the screen as well, fighting the urge to clench his hands into tight fists.
He can sense Kurt stiffen slightly, and he closes his eyes briefly. At least there wasn't any laughing or yelling. Yet.
Then Kurt grabs his hand, tugging him up and out, Puck thankful that they managed to get through the museum before he had his confessional moment. Kurt's hand tightens around his as they proceed quickly out the exit and towards a bench, and Puck just wants to know what it means. The bench is hot from the sun, but Kurt perches on it determinedly, pulling Puck down beside him.
"You don't want me," Kurt says, a little bit of surprise and a bit of sadness both coloring his voice, and Puck thinks-hopes-that he understands what Kurt isn't saying. "Maybe you think you do," Kurt continues, voice still a little pained. "Your selection of available partners is limited, after all."
Puck's shaking his head, and he can't decide whether to answer Kurt's spoken or unspoken objections first. He is carefully still, because Kurt hasn't let go of Puck's hand. He's probably forgotten, but Puck's not going to complain. "First, I didn't… I didn't think of you and then realize all the reasons it was you. I was thinking of what I wanted, and then it hit me that I didn't have to go look for it. You were right in front of me."
"Still…" and the pained tone is still present, but a little stronger.
"And why wouldn't I? Why not?" Puck's voice is a little rougher, a little challenging.
"We're so different," Kurt says, his voice a little higher in his distress. "I'll get on your nerves. I'm high-maintenance and I know I can be annoying. You like sex, I'm not sexy--"
"Whoa. Hold on." Puck's hands move, unbidden, and he keeps the one wrapped around Kurt's hand tight. "You're what? Seriously? You really think that?" He probably sounds angry, but then, he kind of is. He's angry that someone or something made Kurt think he wasn't sexy.
Kurt looks over at him, then, eyes wide, and he nods, then shakes his head, confused. "I'm not, Blaine said so, David only kissed me because he was so mixed-up and angry, and-"
"Okay, we're going to come back and talk about that second one some day," Puck growls out, because he's not really okay with the mental image he has now. "And Blaine, I think we've previously established, was a fucking douchebag. Why would you take anything he said seriously?" Puck's staring straight into Kurt's eyes now, and he'd probably find their conversation awkward and scary, both, if he wasn't so angry. "I mean it, Kurt. You're unbelievably sexy." He controls himself enough to smirk. "Really, I'd be happy to convince you."
"Oh, stop," Kurt lowers his eyes but smiles a bit, and Puck knows the topic of conversation isn't closed, but it's no longer at a crisis level. He squeezes Kurt's hand again, and this time, he gets an answering squeeze.
"What's the real reason?" Puck dares to ask, because there wasn't any laughing or yelling, and in Puck's head, that means he still has a chance.
Kurt shrugs, and still won't look at Puck. His reply is so soft that Puck almost does hear it. "Scary."
"Me?"
There's a shake of his head. "No. What you say you want, what you're offering."
"How so?"
"Because it's everything. And we are different. It wouldn't be perfect, no matter what you've thought through."
"No, it wouldn't be." Puck smiles a little. "It'd be better. You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because it won't be perfect. Like this year, it's going to be hell at school part of time. Sometimes you're going to wish I was out, and sometimes I'm going to wish I was out, but other times we'll be just fine with it until we can leave. Sometime during college, one of us is going to wonder if we picked our one person too soon. I'm still going to dress like me, and you're still going to dress like you, and when we're twenty-five, I'm going to ruin some of your clothes in the laundry, despite you telling me for years what to do. Sometimes we're going to fight, and we might say awful things. But at the end of it, at the end of it all, we're going to have really awesome make-up sex, and we'll still be together. And the good times are going to be so good, and they'll be better because of the not-so-good times, and they're going to outnumber the bad times." Puck says it all in a rush, and he knows that if Finn and Kurt ever compare notes, his secret rom-com viewing habit will no longer be a secret.
"Oh," Kurt says, quiet, but there's a hint of wonder in his voice.
"Let me convince you," Puck finally continues. "I said that would have to be my job, so let me do my job. Just… don't flirt with anyone else or see anyone else, because…"
"It'd piss you off?" Kurt finishes the sentence.
"No," Puck shakes his head. "I mean, yeah, I'd act pissed, but really I'd just be… hurt. You know."
Now it's Kurt squeezing Puck's hand, and it brings a smile to Puck's face. "Okay," Kurt says after a few moments of silence. "Convince me, Noah Puckerman."
"Mission accepted. And before I attempt any other convincing, I think I should convince you that it's time to drive back to Lima."
"Oh, shit!" Kurt checks the time on his phone and stands up. "You're right. What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?"
"Six," Puck admits with a wince. It's closer to seven than six-thirty, and it'll take three hours by the time they go through rush hour traffic and eat some dinner, even if they grab more drive-through cuisine.
"I am so sorry," Kurt apologizes as they reach the Navigator. "Seriously. I'd say I'd bring you a coffee tomorrow, but well. That'd be a little ridiculous."
Puck laughs. "Just a little bit, Kurt. Just a little bit."
When Puck gets home, it's almost 10:30, and he barely says hello to his mom before heading to bed. He pokes his head inside Hannah's room, but she's asleep, as she should be, and Puck can't help but envy her a little. He lied to Kurt; the store opens at 6, but he really needs to be there at 5:30 since he's the only one opening. That means waking up at 5 am.
He takes the time to find a good YouTube version of "Pictures in My Head," anyway, and readies a text for Kurt that he'll send sometime in the morning. Self-appointed task complete, Puck falls into bed, a little more hopeful than he was the last time he slept in his bed.
Five am is just as painful as Puck had imagined it, but he reminds himself that he can have a huge cup of coffee, free, in less than hour, so he gets dressed and walks the fifteen minutes to work. He waves at the officer who sits in the Rite Aid lot, remembers to drop off his sister's library books, and unlocks the door of the Starbucks right at 5:30. It's easy to go through his routine, because he's been doing it for so long now, and by the time the first bleary-eyed medical professional stumbles in, Puck's downed a venti cup himself, spiked with a shot of espresso. He remembers to send the text to Kurt when there's a lull just before 7:45, and then it's close to ten before he can take a break.
He's only been back at the counter for a few minutes, and business is still slow, when a familiar figure slips in the door. Puck finishes the drink he's fixing, hands it to the older woman waiting, and leans across the counter. "What can I get you?"
"Oh, a little of this, a little of that." Kurt smiles in return. "First," and Kurt slides a bag across the counter. "It's not coffee, but it is a little bit of an apology."
"You didn't-"
"I know, I wanted to," Kurt counters before Puck can finish talking, and Puck just accepts the bag and stows it under the counter before gesturing to Kurt to continue. "And you know what I want to drink."
"Of course. And I may have saved you the last two of these." Puck reaches into the pastry display and pulls a plate from under the bottom shelf, two little red velvet whoopie pies perched on it.
"May have?"
"I could always eat them myself."
"No, mine!" Kurt asserts, and pulls the plate close. "Oh, here," he remembers the bills crumpled in his hand. "Put the change in your little tip-bucket. Since you saved me whoopie pies."
"The way to a man's heart really is through his stomach," Puck counters wryly as he finishes ringing up the total, and then moves to the side to start on Kurt's drink.
"I like the song," Kurt says after a moment, as Puck works.
"Yeah?"
"Mmm-hmm. I think it'd sound better with an acoustic guitar inside of the heavy synth, but I like the tune. And the lyrics."
"I think so too," Puck agrees, expertly topping Kurt's coffee with whipped cream. "I've been working on it, but I can't quite get the bridge how I want it. One super-sugary coffee drink, lid on the side," he announces with a flourish, and Kurt laughs, scooping the whipped cream off the top with his finger before putting the lid on.
"Thank you, kind sir," he adds, bowing his head ever so slightly.
When it's Puck's turn for lunch, he reaches for the bag Kurt brought him and pulls out the glass container. Ohh. Leftover veggie lasagna. Puck's not sure how leftover lasagna survived in the Hudmel household, though he suspects that Finn and Burt both heard "vegetable" and thought "healthy." Puck knows better, though; there's enough cheese in Kurt's lasagna to clog anyone's arteries. He sticks it in the microwave and taps his fork impatiently on the counter.
"What is that smell? I want your lunch!" One of Puck's coworkers stops and eyes the microwave a little too interestedly, at least in Puck's mind.
"No! Mine!" Puck raises his eyebrows, pretending to slap at her hands with the fork. "And it's homemade lasagna."
"Damn," she smiles. "Someone loves you." She walks off then, helping a customer just as the microwave beeps. Puck pulls out his lasagna a little numbly, and walks to one of the outside tables to eat.
No, Kurt doesn't love him, not the way he wants to be loved, not yet. Or not consciously, which an intriguing possibility. Because Puck knows Kurt well enough to know that there isn't anyone else in the city getting lunch hand-delivered by Kurt, except Kurt's dad. Not Finn, not Mercedes or Rachel, and not even Blaine back when Kurt was still with him.
Yet Kurt brought him lunch. And no, it's not far from his house--nothing is far from anything, really, in Lima--but Puck's pretty sure that Thursday mornings are when Kurt's working on his bizarre musical about that British girl Pippa. Not for running errands. Not for bringing lunch to Starbucks baristas.
Puck furrows his brow. Come to think of it, when did the Hudmels even have lasagna recently?
Kurt and Puck fall into their usual routine on Thursday afternoon, Finn and Puck playing video games while Kurt does other things. Puck heads home for dinner, because he's gotten three texts from Hannah telling him that he's required (by her) to eat dinner with them that night, since he missed dinner the past two nights. Puck hangs out with Finn and Sam on Friday night, and when he wakes up Saturday morning, he can't decide what to do. Usually he works for a few hours on Saturday, but he swapped with one of the new people, who drew Sunday, and she wants to go to church or something. It's only 7 am, though, and he curses his body's ability to adapt to early wake up calls. He shrugs and takes a shower anyway. He pauses while getting dressed and knocks on his mom's door.
"Hey, Mom," he calls softly at her answering grunt. "Want me to take Hannah to temple today? You sleep in?"
"Thanks," comes the answering call a moment later. "You can take the car. Straight there and straight back," she admonishes, and Puck sighs but agrees, knowing that he probably deserves it.
Puck pours cereal for both of them and gets Hannah ready. His mom tries to take her most weeks, and his nana will take Hannah other times, but it's rare that Puck goes. Sometimes it's intentional, but lately it's just been his work schedule.
He breaks his promise to his mom and heads over to Ray's to get a rotisserie chicken for lunch, but he figures she won't mind too much. When he gets back home, his mother is holding up his phone, frowning. "You forgot something."
"Sorry," he apologizes. "I didn't think we took that long at the store." And they hadn't--just ten or fifteen minutes to get the chicken and a few other things.
"No, but I think you have about ten missed text messages."
"Oh." Puck grabs it and puts up the groceries one-handed as he reads through them. Two are from Finn, asking a question about Rachel; Puck snorts, because he just saw Rachel this morning at temple with her dads. There's another from Brittany, something about her cat having a crush on a dog that lives in Puck's building. The last three are from Kurt, and he stops putting up the groceries to focus on those three fully. The first one is just a good morning, what are you doing kind of text, and the next one is about thirty minutes later. Oh, I bet you're at Temple. Sorry! The last one is from just fifteen minutes before. Want to hit the beach? It's already super-hot.
Puck nods unconsciously and responds almost immediately. Beach sounds great. Just starting lunch. Pick me up in an hour?
The phone buzzes almost immediately and the swiftness of the reply makes Puck smiled. Sure. See you then!
Hannah disappears onto her room, talking on the phone, as soon as they finish eating, and Puck's mom retreats into hers as well, telling Puck something about a great new book and thanks for grabbing it at the library. All of this means that no one is watching Puck being ridiculous as he looks out the window, watching for Kurt. Kurt pulls up almost exactly an hour from the time of Puck's text, and Puck takes the opportunity to just watch Kurt. He steps out of the Navigator as if he's stepping onto a red carpet, head held high, sunglasses perched his nose. He's wearing swim trunks, flip flops, and a t-shirt, and Puck's not ashamed that he's drinking in the chance to look at Kurt's bare legs and feet. Usually Kurt's wearing long pants, even in the summer, or if he wears shorts, they're longer than these swim trunks, and he's still got on crazy boots.
There's another part of Puck, of course, that sort of hates that anyone can see Kurt's legs and feet right now, but he consoles himself with the thought that very few, if any, of the people near Kurt would be young and gay.
Kurt disappears into the entrance of the building, and Puck grabs his towel off the bed, shouting out a farewell to his sister, then stopping to talk to his mother for just a minute. They finish talking just as Kurt knocks. "Bye, Mom."
"Have fun, Noah."
Puck swings the door open and pulls it shut behind him, stepping into the hallway. "Hey."
"Hey," Kurt smiles his response. "I guess you're ready."
Puck shrugs. "It's hot." He lets his eyes graze over Kurt for just a moment and smirks, letting it hang between them rather than saying it out loud.
"Stop it," Kurt rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, and they spend the short drive over to the "beach" laughing at the podcast Kurt found: a bunch of different words for "hot," all put into song format. They spend the rest of the afternoon alternating between the water and lying on their towels, and finish the day with the Deluxe Saturday Night Buffet at Old Barn Out Back. Puck's not sure if he's doing a good job of convincing Kurt or not. So far, he feels like they're just doing the same things they've done all summer, but then, that's what got him falling in love with Kurt, so it can't be an awful idea.
That, and he pays for dinner.