Fic: This Is the Story of a Boy; Part IV: What If This Is Just the Beginning, chapter vii
Title: This Is the Story of a Boy; Part IV: What If This Is Just The Beginning, chapter vii
Author: patchfire
Rating: NC-17
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: You just don't understand how much I love all your comments and that you love this little world. <3 ALSO! I am getting caught up posting this to AO3. Hopefully I'll finish catching up today, so look there if LJ is down AGAIN. AO3 listing. Also, just assume they're NC-17 from here on out.
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: First Day of Senior Year
Word Count: 7403
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV, chapter i
Part IV, chapter ii
Part IV, chapter iii
Part IV, chapter iv
Part IV, chapter v
Part IV, chapter vi
This Is the Story of a Boy
Part IV: What If This Is Just the Beginning
chapter vii
Puck has trouble getting out of bed, more than he has since he started working at Starbucks back in the spring. He grabs his backpack, plus his old backpack, which now has to hold clothes for school and clothes for football practice, too. He stumbles through to the kitchen, earbuds already in as he's trying to wake himself up, and scrounges up a little smile at the money his mom's left in the middle of the table "for lunch" along with a note about some boiled eggs in the refrigerator. Puck doesn't need his mom's money, but she likes to pay for the first day of school, and he's extraordinarily thankful for the eggs as he eats going down the stairs. He reaches the street and traces the familiar route, except the officer in the Rite-Aid parking lot stops him today.
"First day of school, son?" he asks, gesturing to the pair of backpacks Puck's wearing.
"Yes, sir. Last year," he grins.
"You have a good year, then. Go Titans!"
Puck laughs and nods. "Thanks!"
The store is quiet, as it always is when he opens, and Puck sets aside a scone for his own breakfast, plus one of Kurt's favorite red velvet whoopie pies, then starts the coffee brewing. The first customer appears just after 6 am, and Puck's kept busy for the first hour straight, until his manager shows. At 7:45, she glances at the clock and nods at Puck. "Finish that up, and then go ahead and change."
"Thanks," Puck says gratefully, and ducks into the bathroom to change. When he's finished, he grabs a coffee each for he and Kurt, plus the baked goods, shoulders his backpacks, and heads out the door. He glances at the clock and notes that he can probably get away with waiting until 7:55, even, if necessary, to change.
Kurt is waiting at the curb, as promised, door already ajar, and Puck passes the drinks and food in gratefully. He slings both bags into the floorboard and climbs in. "Thank you."
"Not a problem," Kurt grins, and Puck takes a minute to appreciate it, because it's not a look that often appears on Kurt's face while at school.
"I brought you food," Puck holds up the smaller bag and rattles it slightly.
"Ooh!" Kurt grabs it and squeals a little when he peeks inside. "Yay! Thank you!" He pulls the little treat out of the bag and takes a bite. "You bring me coffee and whoopie pie, and you thank me for giving you a ride? I am clearly the winner here."
Puck chuckles and digs out his scone. "I guess we should go do this thing."
"I suppose so," Kurt acknowledges, sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes. "Good color on you, by the way," he remarks as he steers back into traffic.
"Yeah?" Puck asks, but he's smirking a little inwardly. He had thought the dark purple would look good on him, even if it was a little baggier than he preferred.
"Yes," Kurt looks over as they stop at a light and smirks. "And I think you know it, too."
Puck lets a small smile play on his lips and looks sidelong at Kurt. "Mmm. Guilty as charged," he finally admits.
"A little baggy, though," Kurt sniffs critically, and that's when Puck laughs.
"As it happens, I completely agree," Puck finally says.
"And here you were worried about our fashion clashing," Kurt says with a smirk.
"I'd still be in a t-shirt," Puck points out.
"I think I can deal with it if you're going to dress like you did Saturday and yesterday," Kurt says with a final sharp nod of the head.
Puck shrugs. "Okay." He's not going to argue. He looks over Kurt's outfit, then: grey jeans, the same sandals as the day before, and a deep blue shirt-he's pretty sure there's a specific name for the shade, but he doesn't know it. There's a yellow-green scarf tucked in to the top of the shirt, and Puck's pretty sure the grey fedora on the console is meant to be perched on top of Kurt's head.
No, Puck's never going to be into fashion, but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate it on Kurt. The shirt clings to Kurt's torso, letting Puck just see the definition of his muscles, and the jeans are definitely tight and stretchy. Kurt looks over at Puck and then smiles, amused. "I'll take that look to mean, 'yes, Kurt, you look amazing and handsome,' then."
Puck flushes a little and jerks his eyes up guiltily, but shrugs unapologetically. "I was thinking more like hot and sexy, but whatever."
There's a pleased look in Kurt's eyes, but then they pull into the parking lot and sigh in unison. "Football practice after school?"
Puck nods. "I'll see you in physics."
"Count on it." Kurt pulls the fedora on and hops out of the car. "Well, as you said yesterday. Let's do this thing."
They separate from each other as they approach the building, and Puck's lost sight of Kurt by the time he makes his way into the main hall. He has history first, much to his chagrin, and he stops by his locker to throw his clothes into it. A few guys slap him on the back and say hi, then Artie wheels up, "Hey, practice for glee after football, at my house." Puck nods and bumps fists before Artie continues down the hall. Puck finally slams his locker shut as Finn approaches.
"You in history with me?"
"If you have it first thing," Puck responds with a nod.
"Yep." Finn falls into step with him as they walk down the hall. "What's the rest of your schedule like?"
"Physics second, then English. Dual enrollment in the afternoons on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Ms. P set me up with an independent study for Tuesday and Thursday afternoons."
"Yeah? For what?"
"AP music theory." Puck shrugs. "I guess it's supposed to look good that I'm taking it, but it's not something that's been offered here before."
"Cool!" Puck glances sideways at Finn.
"Probably don't spread that around," he adds, and Finn nods.
"Here we go," Finn says, faking brightness, and they walk into the classroom with a sigh. Brittany's already sitting in the classroom, as is Sam, and they cross to sit behind the two of them.
"Hey, guys," Sam nods, and they all exchange fist bumps. "Anyone else have a hard time getting up so early?"
Finn and Brittany both nod, but Puck snorts. "What time did you get up?"
"Um, like 7," and the other two nod.
Puck stifles a yawn and takes a drink of his nearly-empty coffee cup. "I wish I had slept until 7. But I did have trouble getting up. At 5."
Sam's eyes widen. "Why were you up at 5?"
"Work," Puck shrugs. "If I open every day, I only have to fit in eight or so more hours during the rest of the week."
Brittany looks like she wants to say something, as does Sam, but then the teacher stands up at the front of the class, and Puck decides he should give it at least a few weeks before he takes naps through history. Yeah, Kurt promised to help him, but he's pretty sure Kurt'll be happier if he at least know what they're supposed to be covering in the class. Puck peeks at the front of the textbook the teacher hands out. Oh. Europe since 1400. Right. Why did they have to learn about this stuff, again? Puck was pretty sure a few minutes with Google and Wikipedia would give him most of the information, if he ever needed it. That was the good thing about music school. Most of the history was history of music, and at least he can see the point of that. If he gets in. He tries to ignore the doubting voice in the back of his head, which had just sounded like his mom, but now it sounds kind of like Rachel, too.
Puck dutifully takes notes on the lecture, because Kurt had suggested taking notes during the lecture and skipping the reading, if he was going to do one of the two. "Most teachers like to think that their students are listening. Essay questions, everything really, it's more likely to come from the lecture. Instead of sleeping through class and pulling an all-nighter to read the text, just take notes in class and skip the book entirely," Kurt had suggested, and since Kurt definitely gets better grades in history than Puck, Puck's willing to try it.
The funny thing about taking notes in class, Puck decides, is that it makes the class actually seem shorter, and first period being shorter seems like a good plan. The bell rings and everyone stands up, Puck fighting the impulse to dash out the door. For one thing, that was old Puck. For another, he probably can't get away with hurrying to physics every single day.
"What do you have next?" Brittany asks brightly.
"English," Sam and Finn reply together.
"Physics."
"Oh, that's right," Finn begins, then stops abruptly.
"Oh, too bad, I have Spanish," Brittany concludes. "See you later." She turns right, and the three remaining turn left, walking together for a few feet before Sam and Finn head to English.
"Later," Puck offers with a wave, and they return the gesture. Puck increases his pace after that, and grins when he steps into the physics room. Kurt's sitting at a lab table at the back of the room, an empty stool beside him. Puck crosses the room quickly and stops beside it. "This seat taken?"
Kurt grins up at him. "As soon as you sit your ass down, it is."
"Good," Puck replies, doing just that. "How was… math, right?"
"Mathy," Kurt says, wrinkling his nose. "History?"
"Historical," Puck says, nodding sagely.
"We're so descriptive," Kurt laughs dryly.
Puck manages to follow the math, and Kurt seems to follow the concepts, so between the two of them, Puck figures they should manage to pass the class. Once the door is shut and everyone's concentration is at the front of the room, he slips his shoe off and then slides his foot over Kurt's ankle.
Kurt jumps and then glares at Puck, but Puck can see a dimple threatening to peek out, so he slips his toes under the hem of Kurt's jeans. Kurt tenses for a moment, then relaxes, changing the angle of his foot slightly. After a few more minutes pass, Kurt uses his other foot to slip off that sandal. They spend the rest of the class sliding their feet together, and Puck's pretty sure second period physics just became his favorite class of senior year. So sure that he's pretty reluctant to leave, and not just because he doesn't really like English.
"English next?" Kurt queries as he slips his sandal back on.
Puck nods, tying his own shoe.
"Think of poetry as song lyrics," Kurt offers as he shoulders his bag.
"You have English now, too, right?"
Kurt nods. "AP, in the quest of not having to take English ever again," he adds with a flourish.
Puck snorts. "Yeah, I get that." He smirks. "Be good."
"Oh, I'm always good," Kurt says with a laugh before each walks into their classroom.
Fourth period, just before lunch, Puck finds himself gravitating towards the choir room. Fourth period is when they meet on Mondays and Fridays, so inevitably a lot of them find their way there the rest of the week. Schue's never there, because of some kind of language lab thing, but it's nice to hang out in the middle of the day.
When Puck walks in, Tina's sitting at the piano, fiddling with one hand, Mike's dancing to a tune that apparently only he can hear, and Santana's texting someone. He wonders absently if it's the same girl she went to the movies with. He sets his own bag down and pulls out one of his notebooks, marking a few changes he thought of while trying desperately not to fall asleep during English. Over the next ten minutes, the rest of the club trickles in. Kurt slumps against a chair near Puck's and pulls out his phone.
Puck nearly laughs when his phone vibrates just a minute later. Boo
Ahh! I'm so scared. :P
Hmph. No one ever thinks I'm scary. Did we have physics homework?
I thought keeping track of homework was your job
Someone kept distracting me
I guess we just have to hope the answer is no
Suppose so.
Artie told you about practice at his house?
Yes. I assume you're getting a ride there with Finn or Sam after practice?
Yeah, whichever. Know anyone willing to give me a ride home
I could be persuaded ;)
:) xx
xx
Puck slips his phone back into his pocket before they give themselves away with their mad grins, and goes back to writing in his notebook, occasionally pulling over a guitar and testing out a note. Kurt's scribbling something in a notebook of his own, which means he either managed to land homework in his English class, or he's working on one of his application essays. The whole room is enveloped in a low murmur from the occasional conversation or note, and Puck lets himself relax, content in the moment.
If going to school only meant physics and this and glee club meetings, he'd come out in a heartbeat.
Puck doesn't see Kurt after that, but then remembers that Kurt normally will have a dual enrollment class on Tuesday afternoons, so he's probably gone home until time to head over to Artie's house. Puck can't help envying Kurt's ability to eat lunch somewhere other than the cafeteria every day of the week, if he chooses.
Puck's not sure what to expect from the independent study class, but it turns out that Ms. Pillsbury has it set up for Puck to go into the choir room, shut the doors, and study in there on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. She hands him two different textbooks and three suggested syllabi, telling him that he gets to decide which he'll use. She'll monitor his progress once he's made his choice, but basically, when she said independent study, that's exactly what she meant, and Puck feels a little proud that someone trusts him enough for this.
Unlike his classes earlier in the day, Puck doesn't notice how fast or slow time is passing, and the final bell of the day startles him. He gathers the materials up and walks to Ms. Pillsbury's office.
"Sorry, I lost track of time," he apologizes. "I think I'll use these two," he shows her the book and syllabus he settled on, and puts the others in one of her chairs. "Oh, and I was wondering if you'd look these over." He unzips his backpack and hands her a copy of his essays for Hunter's application.
"Of course," she says with a smile. "Stop by on Thursday a little before the final bell and we can talk about them."
"Thanks, Ms. P," Puck nods and heads down the hall to his locker. He grabs his clothes and makes his way to the locker room to change, and it's in the middle of changing that he remembers exactly why he's not coming out.
He, Finn, Sam, and Mike are all changing on one side of the room, and Puck gives Finn a lot of credit for not letting on that he knows anything's different about Puck. They're not visible when someone enters the locker room, though, and some of the sophomores, just promoted from JV, start chattering as they change.
It starts out as what Puck's always thought of as (sadly) 'typical' locker-room trash talk, with the word fag being liberally tossed around. His hands tighten into solid fists as he grips his clothes, hiding his distress in the locker in front of him. He wants to spring around the row of lockers and kick their asses. He remembers what he was was like as a sophomore, thinking he was a big deal, mouthing off and doing stupid shit. It's not a pretty picture, and if senior Puck could go back in time and give sophomore Puck a kick in the ass, he'd sure as hell do it. So he contemplates performing it as a service for the little turds, but ultimately gives up on the idea and continues changing.
They're all about to leave the locker room when the conversation a row over changes.
"Speaking of fags, did you see that fruit loop senior with the hat and that scarf?" There's some mean laughter, and Puck can feel his jaw tighten. He looks over towards Finn, and their eyes meet. Finn looks equally pissed, and they nod in unison. Mike and Sam are already standing up, going around the other end of the row of lockers.
Puck and Finn slam their lockers shut and then walk around the corner together, glaring at the three that are left, one of them still in the midst of doing… something that's Puck's sure isn't meant to be complementary, the other two laughing hysterically.
"Shut up," Finn says, just loud enough to get their attention, and Puck cracks his knuckles, still glaring.
"What's wrong? Don't tell me you four are queer?" jeers one of the sophomores, the broadest of the three and one of the linemen. Puck thinks his name starts with an F, but he can’t remember it.
"Wouldn't matter if we were," Finn responds, "but right now, we're going to talk about how it's going to be. You know why?"
The three have backed up towards each other, huddled in the center of the row, as the four seniors advance.
"Because the guy you were just making fun of? Is our friend," Sam responds, and then Finn's speaking again.
"He's also my brother."
Finn, Puck, and Sam each step up to one of the sophomores, pinning them against the lockers, Mike still watching, arms crossed.
"We…we didn't mean anything," one of the laughers from before insists, looking terrified. Rickenbacker, Puck’s mind supplies, Kicker. Puck grins ferally.
"Yes, you did," he says. "I know you did, because I used to be just like you. A sorry asshole who put other people down just to feel better about myself." Puck leans in closer. "Here's the new rules, asshole. One, don't use the word 'fag' in this locker room or anywhere else any of us can hear you. That goes for faggot, fairy, homo, fudge-packer, pansy, queer, or any other derogatory term you can come up with." Puck feels like he's about to throw up, and he wonders if anyone who's not gay could possibly understand how completely disgusted he is to even say those words out loud.
"Two," Finn picks up where Puck left off. "Kurt-that's my brother, by the way-is off limits. In here, out there, anywhere. Completely. off. limits."
"And third," Sam finishes, "don't break the other two rules if you'd like to continue playing varsity football. Or live a long, healthy life."
The three offenders nod, eyes wide, and they step back to let them go out to the field. Sam and Mike follow close behind them, clearly not trusting them, and Finn hangs back with Puck.
"You okay?" he whispers after a moment, and Puck just shakes his head. No, he's not okay.
"Go on," he finally rasps out, motioning Finn towards the door. The door's just swinging shut when he lunges for the toilet and loses his lunch. His stomach heaves for a few moments, and he's just flushing the toilet when Beiste bangs on the door, opening it a crack.
"Puckerman! You coming?"
"Yeah, sorry, Coach," he responds, crossing to the sinks and rinsing out his mouth. "Must've eaten something bad at lunch."
She looks at him skeptically, but sniffs once and nods, accepting his explanations. "As long as you're sure you can practice."
"I'm sure," Puck nods, and jogs out onto the field.
Practice turns out to be exactly what Puck needs. The physical exertion both wears him out and lets him work out the aggression he's been feeling since the little sophomores started talking. When everyone clumps back into the locker room, that trio looks at the quartet of senior Glocks and falls silent.
Puck's pretty silent throughout the time he's showering and changing, too, and he's shoving his feet into his shoes before he speaks. "Can I hitch a ride?" he says as Finn sits down beside him.
"To Artie's? Yeah, no problem."
Puck nods his thanks and stands up, slamming his locker shut. "Meet you in the parking lot."
Puck sits on Finn's tailgate, waiting, watching the rest of the team filter into the lot and leave. Sam and Mike head out just a few minutes before Finn finally appears.
"Sorry, Beiste stopped me, something about recruiting,"
"No problem." Puck hops down from the tailgate and climbs into the passenger seat.
Finn glances over at him, opens his mouth, closes it, and repeats the whole sequence.
"Just say it," Puck says wearily. "I promise not to bite your head off. Unless you're really stupid."
Finn rolls his eyes. "Thanks. Just… I know I asked before, but-are you okay?"
Puck purses his lips. He's tempted just to say yes, because it's the answer that people usually want to hear, but he's got a really limited number of people with whom he can be anywhere close to honest. "Not really," he finally says with a sigh. "I'll muddle through, though." Which is also true. All he has to do is not be too stupid.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Finn nods. They fall silent for the rest of the drive. Artie's family lives near the country club, same as Quinn used to, so like everything in Lima, it's a relatively short drive. Everyone else is clearly already there, and Puck gathers his stuff from the back of Finn's truck and throws it into Kurt's Navigator before heading in. Finn looks at him a little funny.
"What?"
"You know Kurt's door code?" He gestures at the number pad, where Puck's pressed in the numbers to unlock the doors.
"Uh, yeah," Puck raises his eyebrows as he locks the door and shuts it. "I have for months. Why?" The third time they went shopping together, when they were planning Hannah's birthday party, Kurt had sent him to take some bags out before they were done, and instead of handing him a key, he had Puck memorize the code. Puck's been using it ever since.
"Oh. No reason," Finn shrugs, and they head towards the door.
Artie's mom lets them in, motioning them through to the family room off the kitchen. "There's a few snacks if you boys need them," she mentions to Artie, who nods, and then she disappears.
Puck flops onto the only open seat in the room, which is conveniently next to Kurt, thanks to Finn claiming a recliner. Kurt gives Puck an odd look that he can't quite decipher, but when Puck shoots him a questioning look in return, Kurt just shakes his head and mouths "Later."
"Practice" consists of establishing who's singing which lines, and Puck confirming that he'll bring his own guitar on Thursday so he and Sam can play the song without the band, and within an hour, they're all trickling out the door.
"Are you eating dinner at home tonight, or with Rachel?" Kurt asks Finn. "I told Dad we'd each figure something out on our own."
"With Rachel. I'll see you at home." Finn gets into his truck, somehow reminding Puck more of a puppy than a senior in high school, and drives away.
Kurt and Puck are carefully silent and composed until they're a short distance away from Artie's house, and then Puck reaches for Kurt, awkwardly lying across the console to put his hand on Kurt's thigh and his head on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt tilts his head to press his cheek to the top of Puck's head briefly. "What exactly went down in the locker room?"
"How'd you hear about that?"
"Mike and Sam." Puck can practically hear Kurt rolling his eyes. "I don't know if they were truly wanting me to let them know if some idiot underclassmen said something to me, or just wanting a chance to display machismo."
"Probably both," Puck says after a minute. "How do you do it? Not let it eat at you?"
"Oh, it does. There's a number of things I do to not let it show, though," Kurt corrects him. "There's the ever-popular technique of desperately searching in my locker for something. Holding on to something very tightly. Coughing fit. Allergy attack-that one's good, you can get away with sneezing, hiccuping, watery eyes, runny nose, you name it." Kurt's voice is purposely light, and Puck's pretty sure if it wasn't, they'd both be in trouble. "And, of course, beginning to rant about something else. I use fashion or music, but it can be anything. Sports, a teacher, whatever."
Puck looks up slightly as Kurt makes a turn. "Where're we going?"
"To get food," Kurt clarifies, pulling up in front of the take-out place. "And then…" he shrugs, and Puck lifts his head fully to look at Kurt, who's blushing just a little. Puck grins.
"I can get behind that plan," he says, smirking and nodding.
"I thought you'd like it," Kurt responds with a smirk of his own, then steps lightly out of the car.
They make easy conversation with the woman working in the store as they wait on their meal, and then take the two bags out to the car and head to Kurt's house. Kurt thinks it would be a good idea to eat with chopsticks, and for reasons Puck isn't quite sure of, he agrees. The two of them spend most of the meal laughing hysterically before giving up and using forks. Puck grabs the empty containers and tosses them in the trash while Kurt throws the forks into the dishwasher, and then Kurt slides an arm around Puck's waist, steering both of them into the living room.
"How long until people get home?" Puck can't resist asking as Kurt pulls them both down onto the couch.
"Probably forty-five minutes or an hour," Kurt admits.
"Do you have something against rules that you've helped make, or something?"
"Apparently?" Kurt offers weakly, leaning into Puck's side.
"Okay." Puck shifts his body so he's sitting sideways, one leg outstretched, and Kurt pulls away for a moment before resettling in the V of Puck's legs. "C'mere," he tugs at Kurt, urging him to slide a little further up Puck's chest.
Kurt obliges, mouth resting next to Puck's cheek. "Here?"
Puck forgoes answering in favor of occupying his mouth, and Kurt's, in a different way. A corner of his mind informs him that he's not properly kissed Kurt in more than twenty-four hours, and another corner suggests that this is much too long of a time frame, and he should try to make sure it doesn't happen again.
Puck agrees with that corner of his brain.
He sweeps his tongue over Kurt's lips, and has the gratification of Kurt immediately letting his mouth fall open, sending his own tongue into Puck's mouth. Kurt shifts his position so that he's almost lying on top of Puck, allowing them to deepen the kiss further. Puck slides his hands up Kurt's back and then slowly works at removing the scarf from around Kurt's neck. He lets his hand linger in the dips and curves of Kurt's neck, feeling the sinews and tendons flex and move under his fingertips. At last, he untangles the scrap of silk and tosses it aside, running his hands over Kurt's neck again, fingers tugging gently at the hair on the back of Kurt's head.
He feels Kurt's hands slip under his own t-shirt, fingers playing against his skin, urging the fabric upward, and when Kurt breaks their kiss, pushing himself back, Puck takes the hint, whipping the shirt over his head and sending it to join the scarf in the floor. Then he reaches for Kurt, tugging Kurt's shirt free of his jeans and then taking his time unbuttoning each individual button. His hands linger on Kurt's cotton-covered shoulders and then his bare arms as Puck pushes the shirt slowly off, leaving Kurt in a v-neck undershirt that he removes himself.
"Oh, fuck," Puck groans as Kurt lowers himself down again, their bare chests sliding together. "Kurt." He finds Kurt's mouth again, kissing him slowly and carefully, sweeping his tongue through Kurt's mouth again and again, and he can feel Kurt hardening against his thigh, and then Kurt slowly begins to move against him. Puck's own erection is caught between their bodies, and when Kurt moves, his jeans and chest move against Puck.
Puck is fine with the state of affairs, starting to move in a rhythm that enhances Kurt's own, when a thought flashes across his brain, and suddenly, Puck feels like he has to act on it. He carefully pulls away, locking his gaze with Kurt's.
"Can-" he starts, and the words catch in his mouth. A wave of further desire crashes over him, and it takes everything he has not to shudder visibly. He wants, needs, Kurt, just Kurt, nothing else, and even though he has no reason to expect rejection, he knows he'll be devastated if Kurt turns him down.
"What, baby?" Kurt murmurs, and damn. Puck's breath hitches and he lets out of a low moan as Kurt trails a hand over his nipple.
"Please," Puck gasps. "Please let me." He stops again, fumbling for words, and one of hands finds the bulge in the front of Kurt's jeans.
"Touch me?" Kurt asks, and Puck shakes his head.
"No, I mean yes, but not… need to taste you."
"Ohhh." It's a breathy moan that goes straight to Puck's own cock, and he thrusts upward again, without conscious thought. Kurt leans down to whisper in Puck's ear, Puck's eyes falling closed as soon as he feels the hot breath against his earlobe. "Yeah. Okay." Kurt's voice is rich, thick with desire that echoes Puck's own, and Puck nods.
"Yes. Yes."
Kurt pulls back, sitting on his heels for a moment before sliding his legs in front of him and leaning back on the opposite arm of the couch. Puck can feel his mouth drop open, and shifts to crawl over Kurt. He uses one hand to prop himself up, kissing Kurt deeply, the other hand tugging carefully at the button of Kurt's jeans. He fumbles with it for a moment, the material stretched tight over Kurt's erection, and pulls back finally in order to complete his mission. He slides the zipper down. The tip of Kurt's erection peeks out, more and more exposed as Puck draws down the zipper, and his mouth goes dry.
"Holy fuck," he mumbles. "Holy fucking… you sat next to me… you…" Puck stares at the evidence in front of him, the picture clear. Kurt's not wearing any underwear, and part of Puck is pretty sure it's only been that way since Kurt headed to Artie's for the glee club practice, but the rest of Puck doesn't care, and would rather think about sitting next to Kurt at school while Kurt paraded around, no underwear beneath the tight grey jeans.
Kurt's peering up at Puck through his eyelashes, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips, and he doesn't respond, just nods slowly, smile growing larger and smugger with each nod of his head.
Puck bends down, kissing Kurt roughly, his tongue thrusting between Kurt's lips. Kurt arches up towards him, his arms going around Puck's neck, holding him close, not allowing Puck to break the kiss. Puck thrusts down, his own erection pushing down in an impatient, uncoordinated cycle. Their kiss grows increasingly sloppy, and Puck feels as if he's never been more turned on in his life. When Kurt's arms loosen, he starts working his way down Kurt's chest, his hands urging Kurt's hips to lift, sliding off Kurt's jeans.
Somehow, working together, they manage to remove Kurt's jeans, adding them to the growing pile of discarded clothes, and Puck sits back on his heels for a moment, surveying the sight in front of him.
Kurt looks like a painting, Puck decides, a work of art. His arms are flung over his head, flexed just enough to give them definition. His eyes are bright, pupils wide, their stunning color fixed on Puck's own eyes, set just above flushed, dimpled cheeks. His mouth is parted, lips plush and red, all too ready to kiss and be kissed again.
The mark Puck left on him two days earlier is still dark and prominent on his shoulder, and there's a dusting of hair across his chest and down across the flat, toned stomach. Kurt's legs fall apart, his pelvis bones sharp and angular under the skin, the legs slim and pale. And of course, Kurt's erection stands up proudly, heavy above his balls. Puck pucks a hand on Kurt's thigh to steady himself, admiring the contrast between his skin and Kurt's, and takes a ragged breath.
"You are beautiful," Puck finally breathes out, trying and failing to maintain enough oxygen to his brain. Kurt blushes, and it's his whole body that's blushing. Puck didn't think it was possible to get even harder, but he would swear that that's exactly what's happening, especially when just a second later, Kurt lowers his arms, pulling and tugging at Puck's jeans, and before Puck is really sure how it happened, he's naked, too, Kurt's eyes running over him, and he stills, barely breathing, as Kurt licks his lips slowly and gives a little moan that Puck's pretty damn sure indicates approval.
"Amazing," Kurt's voice murmurs, and it's so low, a little raspy, lower even than when Kurt tried singing Mellencamp, and it hits Puck that, fuck, he's probably the only one who's ever heard Kurt's voice like this, and it's that thought that makes him stop staring. He wants to see what other new sounds he can coax out of Kurt, and he bends down, taking the head of Kurt's cock in his mouth.
He sucks at it tentatively, circling his tongue around, slowly taking in more of Kurt's length. Kurt's hands are scrambling at the cushions of the couch, his hips rigid, and when Puck looks up at Kurt's face, his head is thrown back, mouth fallen open. Puck wishes that they had a camera with a timer, because he's pretty sure they'd make an amazingly sexy picture.
"Oh, god," Kurt groans. "Yes. Yes."
If Puck had harbored any doubts about being gay, which he didn't, this would have put them to rest. It's the most intoxicating thing Puck has ever experienced. He can feel Kurt falling apart beneath him. He pulls more of Kurt's cock into his mouth, increasing the suction, and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes at the scent that washes over him. It's minty and citrusy, probably from Kurt's shower products, but also a little sweaty and unbelievably male, and Puck's a little worried about coming all over the couch just from smelling Kurt's cock.
He reaches a hand up and slides it under Kurt's sac, carefully fondling his balls even as he begins to slide up Kurt's cock, then back down again. Kurt's moans are interspersed with a steady stream of "oh gods," and then Puck goes down farther than he managed before, and Kurt says just one word, "PUCK," his voice strangled and low, reverberating around the room. Puck hums in satisfaction, earning a startled yelp from Kurt, followed by "Yes, god, more, more, please, Puck, Puck, please, god, oh fuck, PLEASE," in a constant, nearly repeating stream.
The sound of his name and fuck both spilling from Kurt's mouth makes Puck realize that he's not going to last any longer than Kurt. He slides his other hand to his own erection, pumping it a few times and feeling that there's already pre-come gathering at the tip. Realization hits him like a train-the strange, salty taste that's steadily increasing in his mouth is Kurt's own fluid, and the thought makes him increase his speed, trying to go deeper with each movement, often succeeding. He squeezes Kurt's balls softly, trying to judge how much pressure to use. Kurt arches his hips up, the rigidity with which he's held them giving way at last.
Puck forces his eyes open, looking up through his eyelashes to drink in Kurt's appearance. His pale chest is covered in splotches of pink and red, his head tilted so far back that all Puck can see is the underside of Kurt's chin. Just as he thinks that, Kurt forces his head up, and Puck's gaze locks with Kurt's own. It pierces through all of Puck's self-control, and he moves his hand on his own erection frantically as Kurt begins to shudder, stream after stream of fluid shooting into Puck's mouth. He starts to gag, then moves slightly, pulling back and letting it slide down his throat.
He continues sucking until Kurt stills, and as Kurt does, Puck feels the start of his own orgasm. Kurt's hand runs over the back of his head, and Puck mewls, turning his head into Kurt's hand, releasing Kurt's now-softened cock at last. Puck's hand works at his own cock for a moment more Puck collapses onto his side, completely spent. He lies there, his head resting on Kurt's hipbone, his legs bent uncomfortably, for a long moment, breathing heavily, when Kurt shifts and then slides into the floor.
Puck gasps at the first brush of Kurt's tongue over his hand, and he realizes that Kurt is methodically and precisely devouring every drop of fluid that Puck released. It feels like minutes before Kurt appears satisfied, climbing back onto the couch, and Puck sits up, pulling Kurt into his arms and kissing him slowly.
He releases Kurt reluctantly, staring into Kurt's eyes, and Kurt smiles, resting his head on Puck's shoulder.
"Mmm. Are you sure you've never done that before?" Kurt finally asks. Puck just nods. "Well. Natural talent, I guess," Kurt grins, kissing the side of Puck's neck.
Puck feels like he should make a smug remark, or at least smirk, but he's still coming down off his high and all he can think to say is a mumbled, "Best thing ever."
Kurt lifts his head at that and kisses him again, full on the mouth. "God, yes," he agrees, eyes sparkling.
They sit like that, huddled together, for a few minutes longer before Kurt says with no little reluctance that they should get dressed. "Finn or Dad could be home in ten minutes or so," he explains, handing Puck his t-shirt. Puck redresses rapidly, watching Kurt slide on his jeans and undershirt, leaving the blue shirt unbuttoned and forgoing the scarf entirely. Then Kurt sits back down and pulls Puck to him.
Puck doesn't mean to fall asleep, but he's been up for hours, and had an pretty orgasm on top of that, so when Kurt's arm settles around his shoulders and his eyes want to drift closed, he lets them, face pressed into Kurt's side, the mint/citrus/sweat smell of Kurt mingled now with another scent, and there's a smile on Puck's face when he drifts off to sleep.
He rouses slowly, low voices talking, and he decides to keep his eyes shut and face planted against Kurt. He thinks he's not been asleep for long, maybe fifteen minutes, tops, and his head's still a little fuzzy anyway.
"He's asleep?" he hears Finn whisper incredulously, and then he feels the muscles in Kurt's chest move as he nods.
"He's been up since 5, probably," Kurt points out, volume low. "Not surprising, really."
There's silence for a few minutes, and Puck's beginning to wonder if Finn left the room when he speaks up again. "Are you going to wake him up soon?"
There's no reply from Kurt, but Finn chuckles. "You should see your face, pouting. Yes, Kurt, at the end of the day, you have to give your boyfriend back."
Something happy and fierce pools in Puck's belly, and Kurt's arm tightens around him. The other runs softly over his head, shaved portion and mohawk alike. He can sort of picture Kurt's face, and then Kurt murmurs something that Finn obviously doesn't catch, because he asks what Kurt said, and Kurt says, louder, "Nothing important."
Puck's pretty sure, though, that Kurt said something along the lines of "But I don't wanna."
Finn accepts Kurt's claim, though, and then Puck hears Finn's feet going heavily up the stairs. Puck waits a moment before moving, and it's not entirely put-on. He yawns and sits up a little, resting his head on Kurt's shoulder.
"I need to get you home," Kurt says quietly, and Puck nods in acknowledgement, even though he doesn't really want the evening to end. He knows though that the moment will be broken, somehow, once Kurt's dad arrives, and he reluctantly straightens.
"Okay," he finally speaks, voice a little raspy. "I guess we can do that." He stands, stretching, and reaches out his hand for Kurt. Kurt pulls himself up but doesn't drop Puck's hand, keeping it clasped in his own as they walk out through the garage, until they're standing in front of Kurt's Navigator. Kurt steps closer, kissing him gently first on the mouth and then on the cheek, and then drops Puck's hand at last, unlocking the vehicle.
They're silent on the short ride to Puck's apartment building, the radio playing at a low volume. When Kurt puts it in park, he speaks at last. "I'll see you at 8."
Puck smiles slowly and nods. "I'll look forward to it."
"Be good," Kurt says through the open window as Puck reaches the door.
"I'm always good," Puck calls back, just before the door closes behind him.
Author: patchfire
Rating: NC-17
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: You just don't understand how much I love all your comments and that you love this little world. <3 ALSO! I am getting caught up posting this to AO3. Hopefully I'll finish catching up today, so look there if LJ is down AGAIN. AO3 listing. Also, just assume they're NC-17 from here on out.
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: First Day of Senior Year
Word Count: 7403
Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV, chapter i
Part IV, chapter ii
Part IV, chapter iii
Part IV, chapter iv
Part IV, chapter v
Part IV, chapter vi
This Is the Story of a Boy
Part IV: What If This Is Just the Beginning
chapter vii
Puck has trouble getting out of bed, more than he has since he started working at Starbucks back in the spring. He grabs his backpack, plus his old backpack, which now has to hold clothes for school and clothes for football practice, too. He stumbles through to the kitchen, earbuds already in as he's trying to wake himself up, and scrounges up a little smile at the money his mom's left in the middle of the table "for lunch" along with a note about some boiled eggs in the refrigerator. Puck doesn't need his mom's money, but she likes to pay for the first day of school, and he's extraordinarily thankful for the eggs as he eats going down the stairs. He reaches the street and traces the familiar route, except the officer in the Rite-Aid parking lot stops him today.
"First day of school, son?" he asks, gesturing to the pair of backpacks Puck's wearing.
"Yes, sir. Last year," he grins.
"You have a good year, then. Go Titans!"
Puck laughs and nods. "Thanks!"
The store is quiet, as it always is when he opens, and Puck sets aside a scone for his own breakfast, plus one of Kurt's favorite red velvet whoopie pies, then starts the coffee brewing. The first customer appears just after 6 am, and Puck's kept busy for the first hour straight, until his manager shows. At 7:45, she glances at the clock and nods at Puck. "Finish that up, and then go ahead and change."
"Thanks," Puck says gratefully, and ducks into the bathroom to change. When he's finished, he grabs a coffee each for he and Kurt, plus the baked goods, shoulders his backpacks, and heads out the door. He glances at the clock and notes that he can probably get away with waiting until 7:55, even, if necessary, to change.
Kurt is waiting at the curb, as promised, door already ajar, and Puck passes the drinks and food in gratefully. He slings both bags into the floorboard and climbs in. "Thank you."
"Not a problem," Kurt grins, and Puck takes a minute to appreciate it, because it's not a look that often appears on Kurt's face while at school.
"I brought you food," Puck holds up the smaller bag and rattles it slightly.
"Ooh!" Kurt grabs it and squeals a little when he peeks inside. "Yay! Thank you!" He pulls the little treat out of the bag and takes a bite. "You bring me coffee and whoopie pie, and you thank me for giving you a ride? I am clearly the winner here."
Puck chuckles and digs out his scone. "I guess we should go do this thing."
"I suppose so," Kurt acknowledges, sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes. "Good color on you, by the way," he remarks as he steers back into traffic.
"Yeah?" Puck asks, but he's smirking a little inwardly. He had thought the dark purple would look good on him, even if it was a little baggier than he preferred.
"Yes," Kurt looks over as they stop at a light and smirks. "And I think you know it, too."
Puck lets a small smile play on his lips and looks sidelong at Kurt. "Mmm. Guilty as charged," he finally admits.
"A little baggy, though," Kurt sniffs critically, and that's when Puck laughs.
"As it happens, I completely agree," Puck finally says.
"And here you were worried about our fashion clashing," Kurt says with a smirk.
"I'd still be in a t-shirt," Puck points out.
"I think I can deal with it if you're going to dress like you did Saturday and yesterday," Kurt says with a final sharp nod of the head.
Puck shrugs. "Okay." He's not going to argue. He looks over Kurt's outfit, then: grey jeans, the same sandals as the day before, and a deep blue shirt-he's pretty sure there's a specific name for the shade, but he doesn't know it. There's a yellow-green scarf tucked in to the top of the shirt, and Puck's pretty sure the grey fedora on the console is meant to be perched on top of Kurt's head.
No, Puck's never going to be into fashion, but that doesn't mean he can't appreciate it on Kurt. The shirt clings to Kurt's torso, letting Puck just see the definition of his muscles, and the jeans are definitely tight and stretchy. Kurt looks over at Puck and then smiles, amused. "I'll take that look to mean, 'yes, Kurt, you look amazing and handsome,' then."
Puck flushes a little and jerks his eyes up guiltily, but shrugs unapologetically. "I was thinking more like hot and sexy, but whatever."
There's a pleased look in Kurt's eyes, but then they pull into the parking lot and sigh in unison. "Football practice after school?"
Puck nods. "I'll see you in physics."
"Count on it." Kurt pulls the fedora on and hops out of the car. "Well, as you said yesterday. Let's do this thing."
They separate from each other as they approach the building, and Puck's lost sight of Kurt by the time he makes his way into the main hall. He has history first, much to his chagrin, and he stops by his locker to throw his clothes into it. A few guys slap him on the back and say hi, then Artie wheels up, "Hey, practice for glee after football, at my house." Puck nods and bumps fists before Artie continues down the hall. Puck finally slams his locker shut as Finn approaches.
"You in history with me?"
"If you have it first thing," Puck responds with a nod.
"Yep." Finn falls into step with him as they walk down the hall. "What's the rest of your schedule like?"
"Physics second, then English. Dual enrollment in the afternoons on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Ms. P set me up with an independent study for Tuesday and Thursday afternoons."
"Yeah? For what?"
"AP music theory." Puck shrugs. "I guess it's supposed to look good that I'm taking it, but it's not something that's been offered here before."
"Cool!" Puck glances sideways at Finn.
"Probably don't spread that around," he adds, and Finn nods.
"Here we go," Finn says, faking brightness, and they walk into the classroom with a sigh. Brittany's already sitting in the classroom, as is Sam, and they cross to sit behind the two of them.
"Hey, guys," Sam nods, and they all exchange fist bumps. "Anyone else have a hard time getting up so early?"
Finn and Brittany both nod, but Puck snorts. "What time did you get up?"
"Um, like 7," and the other two nod.
Puck stifles a yawn and takes a drink of his nearly-empty coffee cup. "I wish I had slept until 7. But I did have trouble getting up. At 5."
Sam's eyes widen. "Why were you up at 5?"
"Work," Puck shrugs. "If I open every day, I only have to fit in eight or so more hours during the rest of the week."
Brittany looks like she wants to say something, as does Sam, but then the teacher stands up at the front of the class, and Puck decides he should give it at least a few weeks before he takes naps through history. Yeah, Kurt promised to help him, but he's pretty sure Kurt'll be happier if he at least know what they're supposed to be covering in the class. Puck peeks at the front of the textbook the teacher hands out. Oh. Europe since 1400. Right. Why did they have to learn about this stuff, again? Puck was pretty sure a few minutes with Google and Wikipedia would give him most of the information, if he ever needed it. That was the good thing about music school. Most of the history was history of music, and at least he can see the point of that. If he gets in. He tries to ignore the doubting voice in the back of his head, which had just sounded like his mom, but now it sounds kind of like Rachel, too.
Puck dutifully takes notes on the lecture, because Kurt had suggested taking notes during the lecture and skipping the reading, if he was going to do one of the two. "Most teachers like to think that their students are listening. Essay questions, everything really, it's more likely to come from the lecture. Instead of sleeping through class and pulling an all-nighter to read the text, just take notes in class and skip the book entirely," Kurt had suggested, and since Kurt definitely gets better grades in history than Puck, Puck's willing to try it.
The funny thing about taking notes in class, Puck decides, is that it makes the class actually seem shorter, and first period being shorter seems like a good plan. The bell rings and everyone stands up, Puck fighting the impulse to dash out the door. For one thing, that was old Puck. For another, he probably can't get away with hurrying to physics every single day.
"What do you have next?" Brittany asks brightly.
"English," Sam and Finn reply together.
"Physics."
"Oh, that's right," Finn begins, then stops abruptly.
"Oh, too bad, I have Spanish," Brittany concludes. "See you later." She turns right, and the three remaining turn left, walking together for a few feet before Sam and Finn head to English.
"Later," Puck offers with a wave, and they return the gesture. Puck increases his pace after that, and grins when he steps into the physics room. Kurt's sitting at a lab table at the back of the room, an empty stool beside him. Puck crosses the room quickly and stops beside it. "This seat taken?"
Kurt grins up at him. "As soon as you sit your ass down, it is."
"Good," Puck replies, doing just that. "How was… math, right?"
"Mathy," Kurt says, wrinkling his nose. "History?"
"Historical," Puck says, nodding sagely.
"We're so descriptive," Kurt laughs dryly.
Puck manages to follow the math, and Kurt seems to follow the concepts, so between the two of them, Puck figures they should manage to pass the class. Once the door is shut and everyone's concentration is at the front of the room, he slips his shoe off and then slides his foot over Kurt's ankle.
Kurt jumps and then glares at Puck, but Puck can see a dimple threatening to peek out, so he slips his toes under the hem of Kurt's jeans. Kurt tenses for a moment, then relaxes, changing the angle of his foot slightly. After a few more minutes pass, Kurt uses his other foot to slip off that sandal. They spend the rest of the class sliding their feet together, and Puck's pretty sure second period physics just became his favorite class of senior year. So sure that he's pretty reluctant to leave, and not just because he doesn't really like English.
"English next?" Kurt queries as he slips his sandal back on.
Puck nods, tying his own shoe.
"Think of poetry as song lyrics," Kurt offers as he shoulders his bag.
"You have English now, too, right?"
Kurt nods. "AP, in the quest of not having to take English ever again," he adds with a flourish.
Puck snorts. "Yeah, I get that." He smirks. "Be good."
"Oh, I'm always good," Kurt says with a laugh before each walks into their classroom.
Fourth period, just before lunch, Puck finds himself gravitating towards the choir room. Fourth period is when they meet on Mondays and Fridays, so inevitably a lot of them find their way there the rest of the week. Schue's never there, because of some kind of language lab thing, but it's nice to hang out in the middle of the day.
When Puck walks in, Tina's sitting at the piano, fiddling with one hand, Mike's dancing to a tune that apparently only he can hear, and Santana's texting someone. He wonders absently if it's the same girl she went to the movies with. He sets his own bag down and pulls out one of his notebooks, marking a few changes he thought of while trying desperately not to fall asleep during English. Over the next ten minutes, the rest of the club trickles in. Kurt slumps against a chair near Puck's and pulls out his phone.
Puck nearly laughs when his phone vibrates just a minute later. Boo
Ahh! I'm so scared. :P
Hmph. No one ever thinks I'm scary. Did we have physics homework?
I thought keeping track of homework was your job
Someone kept distracting me
I guess we just have to hope the answer is no
Suppose so.
Artie told you about practice at his house?
Yes. I assume you're getting a ride there with Finn or Sam after practice?
Yeah, whichever. Know anyone willing to give me a ride home
I could be persuaded ;)
:) xx
xx
Puck slips his phone back into his pocket before they give themselves away with their mad grins, and goes back to writing in his notebook, occasionally pulling over a guitar and testing out a note. Kurt's scribbling something in a notebook of his own, which means he either managed to land homework in his English class, or he's working on one of his application essays. The whole room is enveloped in a low murmur from the occasional conversation or note, and Puck lets himself relax, content in the moment.
If going to school only meant physics and this and glee club meetings, he'd come out in a heartbeat.
Puck doesn't see Kurt after that, but then remembers that Kurt normally will have a dual enrollment class on Tuesday afternoons, so he's probably gone home until time to head over to Artie's house. Puck can't help envying Kurt's ability to eat lunch somewhere other than the cafeteria every day of the week, if he chooses.
Puck's not sure what to expect from the independent study class, but it turns out that Ms. Pillsbury has it set up for Puck to go into the choir room, shut the doors, and study in there on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. She hands him two different textbooks and three suggested syllabi, telling him that he gets to decide which he'll use. She'll monitor his progress once he's made his choice, but basically, when she said independent study, that's exactly what she meant, and Puck feels a little proud that someone trusts him enough for this.
Unlike his classes earlier in the day, Puck doesn't notice how fast or slow time is passing, and the final bell of the day startles him. He gathers the materials up and walks to Ms. Pillsbury's office.
"Sorry, I lost track of time," he apologizes. "I think I'll use these two," he shows her the book and syllabus he settled on, and puts the others in one of her chairs. "Oh, and I was wondering if you'd look these over." He unzips his backpack and hands her a copy of his essays for Hunter's application.
"Of course," she says with a smile. "Stop by on Thursday a little before the final bell and we can talk about them."
"Thanks, Ms. P," Puck nods and heads down the hall to his locker. He grabs his clothes and makes his way to the locker room to change, and it's in the middle of changing that he remembers exactly why he's not coming out.
He, Finn, Sam, and Mike are all changing on one side of the room, and Puck gives Finn a lot of credit for not letting on that he knows anything's different about Puck. They're not visible when someone enters the locker room, though, and some of the sophomores, just promoted from JV, start chattering as they change.
It starts out as what Puck's always thought of as (sadly) 'typical' locker-room trash talk, with the word fag being liberally tossed around. His hands tighten into solid fists as he grips his clothes, hiding his distress in the locker in front of him. He wants to spring around the row of lockers and kick their asses. He remembers what he was was like as a sophomore, thinking he was a big deal, mouthing off and doing stupid shit. It's not a pretty picture, and if senior Puck could go back in time and give sophomore Puck a kick in the ass, he'd sure as hell do it. So he contemplates performing it as a service for the little turds, but ultimately gives up on the idea and continues changing.
They're all about to leave the locker room when the conversation a row over changes.
"Speaking of fags, did you see that fruit loop senior with the hat and that scarf?" There's some mean laughter, and Puck can feel his jaw tighten. He looks over towards Finn, and their eyes meet. Finn looks equally pissed, and they nod in unison. Mike and Sam are already standing up, going around the other end of the row of lockers.
Puck and Finn slam their lockers shut and then walk around the corner together, glaring at the three that are left, one of them still in the midst of doing… something that's Puck's sure isn't meant to be complementary, the other two laughing hysterically.
"Shut up," Finn says, just loud enough to get their attention, and Puck cracks his knuckles, still glaring.
"What's wrong? Don't tell me you four are queer?" jeers one of the sophomores, the broadest of the three and one of the linemen. Puck thinks his name starts with an F, but he can’t remember it.
"Wouldn't matter if we were," Finn responds, "but right now, we're going to talk about how it's going to be. You know why?"
The three have backed up towards each other, huddled in the center of the row, as the four seniors advance.
"Because the guy you were just making fun of? Is our friend," Sam responds, and then Finn's speaking again.
"He's also my brother."
Finn, Puck, and Sam each step up to one of the sophomores, pinning them against the lockers, Mike still watching, arms crossed.
"We…we didn't mean anything," one of the laughers from before insists, looking terrified. Rickenbacker, Puck’s mind supplies, Kicker. Puck grins ferally.
"Yes, you did," he says. "I know you did, because I used to be just like you. A sorry asshole who put other people down just to feel better about myself." Puck leans in closer. "Here's the new rules, asshole. One, don't use the word 'fag' in this locker room or anywhere else any of us can hear you. That goes for faggot, fairy, homo, fudge-packer, pansy, queer, or any other derogatory term you can come up with." Puck feels like he's about to throw up, and he wonders if anyone who's not gay could possibly understand how completely disgusted he is to even say those words out loud.
"Two," Finn picks up where Puck left off. "Kurt-that's my brother, by the way-is off limits. In here, out there, anywhere. Completely. off. limits."
"And third," Sam finishes, "don't break the other two rules if you'd like to continue playing varsity football. Or live a long, healthy life."
The three offenders nod, eyes wide, and they step back to let them go out to the field. Sam and Mike follow close behind them, clearly not trusting them, and Finn hangs back with Puck.
"You okay?" he whispers after a moment, and Puck just shakes his head. No, he's not okay.
"Go on," he finally rasps out, motioning Finn towards the door. The door's just swinging shut when he lunges for the toilet and loses his lunch. His stomach heaves for a few moments, and he's just flushing the toilet when Beiste bangs on the door, opening it a crack.
"Puckerman! You coming?"
"Yeah, sorry, Coach," he responds, crossing to the sinks and rinsing out his mouth. "Must've eaten something bad at lunch."
She looks at him skeptically, but sniffs once and nods, accepting his explanations. "As long as you're sure you can practice."
"I'm sure," Puck nods, and jogs out onto the field.
Practice turns out to be exactly what Puck needs. The physical exertion both wears him out and lets him work out the aggression he's been feeling since the little sophomores started talking. When everyone clumps back into the locker room, that trio looks at the quartet of senior Glocks and falls silent.
Puck's pretty silent throughout the time he's showering and changing, too, and he's shoving his feet into his shoes before he speaks. "Can I hitch a ride?" he says as Finn sits down beside him.
"To Artie's? Yeah, no problem."
Puck nods his thanks and stands up, slamming his locker shut. "Meet you in the parking lot."
Puck sits on Finn's tailgate, waiting, watching the rest of the team filter into the lot and leave. Sam and Mike head out just a few minutes before Finn finally appears.
"Sorry, Beiste stopped me, something about recruiting,"
"No problem." Puck hops down from the tailgate and climbs into the passenger seat.
Finn glances over at him, opens his mouth, closes it, and repeats the whole sequence.
"Just say it," Puck says wearily. "I promise not to bite your head off. Unless you're really stupid."
Finn rolls his eyes. "Thanks. Just… I know I asked before, but-are you okay?"
Puck purses his lips. He's tempted just to say yes, because it's the answer that people usually want to hear, but he's got a really limited number of people with whom he can be anywhere close to honest. "Not really," he finally says with a sigh. "I'll muddle through, though." Which is also true. All he has to do is not be too stupid.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Finn nods. They fall silent for the rest of the drive. Artie's family lives near the country club, same as Quinn used to, so like everything in Lima, it's a relatively short drive. Everyone else is clearly already there, and Puck gathers his stuff from the back of Finn's truck and throws it into Kurt's Navigator before heading in. Finn looks at him a little funny.
"What?"
"You know Kurt's door code?" He gestures at the number pad, where Puck's pressed in the numbers to unlock the doors.
"Uh, yeah," Puck raises his eyebrows as he locks the door and shuts it. "I have for months. Why?" The third time they went shopping together, when they were planning Hannah's birthday party, Kurt had sent him to take some bags out before they were done, and instead of handing him a key, he had Puck memorize the code. Puck's been using it ever since.
"Oh. No reason," Finn shrugs, and they head towards the door.
Artie's mom lets them in, motioning them through to the family room off the kitchen. "There's a few snacks if you boys need them," she mentions to Artie, who nods, and then she disappears.
Puck flops onto the only open seat in the room, which is conveniently next to Kurt, thanks to Finn claiming a recliner. Kurt gives Puck an odd look that he can't quite decipher, but when Puck shoots him a questioning look in return, Kurt just shakes his head and mouths "Later."
"Practice" consists of establishing who's singing which lines, and Puck confirming that he'll bring his own guitar on Thursday so he and Sam can play the song without the band, and within an hour, they're all trickling out the door.
"Are you eating dinner at home tonight, or with Rachel?" Kurt asks Finn. "I told Dad we'd each figure something out on our own."
"With Rachel. I'll see you at home." Finn gets into his truck, somehow reminding Puck more of a puppy than a senior in high school, and drives away.
Kurt and Puck are carefully silent and composed until they're a short distance away from Artie's house, and then Puck reaches for Kurt, awkwardly lying across the console to put his hand on Kurt's thigh and his head on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt tilts his head to press his cheek to the top of Puck's head briefly. "What exactly went down in the locker room?"
"How'd you hear about that?"
"Mike and Sam." Puck can practically hear Kurt rolling his eyes. "I don't know if they were truly wanting me to let them know if some idiot underclassmen said something to me, or just wanting a chance to display machismo."
"Probably both," Puck says after a minute. "How do you do it? Not let it eat at you?"
"Oh, it does. There's a number of things I do to not let it show, though," Kurt corrects him. "There's the ever-popular technique of desperately searching in my locker for something. Holding on to something very tightly. Coughing fit. Allergy attack-that one's good, you can get away with sneezing, hiccuping, watery eyes, runny nose, you name it." Kurt's voice is purposely light, and Puck's pretty sure if it wasn't, they'd both be in trouble. "And, of course, beginning to rant about something else. I use fashion or music, but it can be anything. Sports, a teacher, whatever."
Puck looks up slightly as Kurt makes a turn. "Where're we going?"
"To get food," Kurt clarifies, pulling up in front of the take-out place. "And then…" he shrugs, and Puck lifts his head fully to look at Kurt, who's blushing just a little. Puck grins.
"I can get behind that plan," he says, smirking and nodding.
"I thought you'd like it," Kurt responds with a smirk of his own, then steps lightly out of the car.
They make easy conversation with the woman working in the store as they wait on their meal, and then take the two bags out to the car and head to Kurt's house. Kurt thinks it would be a good idea to eat with chopsticks, and for reasons Puck isn't quite sure of, he agrees. The two of them spend most of the meal laughing hysterically before giving up and using forks. Puck grabs the empty containers and tosses them in the trash while Kurt throws the forks into the dishwasher, and then Kurt slides an arm around Puck's waist, steering both of them into the living room.
"How long until people get home?" Puck can't resist asking as Kurt pulls them both down onto the couch.
"Probably forty-five minutes or an hour," Kurt admits.
"Do you have something against rules that you've helped make, or something?"
"Apparently?" Kurt offers weakly, leaning into Puck's side.
"Okay." Puck shifts his body so he's sitting sideways, one leg outstretched, and Kurt pulls away for a moment before resettling in the V of Puck's legs. "C'mere," he tugs at Kurt, urging him to slide a little further up Puck's chest.
Kurt obliges, mouth resting next to Puck's cheek. "Here?"
Puck forgoes answering in favor of occupying his mouth, and Kurt's, in a different way. A corner of his mind informs him that he's not properly kissed Kurt in more than twenty-four hours, and another corner suggests that this is much too long of a time frame, and he should try to make sure it doesn't happen again.
Puck agrees with that corner of his brain.
He sweeps his tongue over Kurt's lips, and has the gratification of Kurt immediately letting his mouth fall open, sending his own tongue into Puck's mouth. Kurt shifts his position so that he's almost lying on top of Puck, allowing them to deepen the kiss further. Puck slides his hands up Kurt's back and then slowly works at removing the scarf from around Kurt's neck. He lets his hand linger in the dips and curves of Kurt's neck, feeling the sinews and tendons flex and move under his fingertips. At last, he untangles the scrap of silk and tosses it aside, running his hands over Kurt's neck again, fingers tugging gently at the hair on the back of Kurt's head.
He feels Kurt's hands slip under his own t-shirt, fingers playing against his skin, urging the fabric upward, and when Kurt breaks their kiss, pushing himself back, Puck takes the hint, whipping the shirt over his head and sending it to join the scarf in the floor. Then he reaches for Kurt, tugging Kurt's shirt free of his jeans and then taking his time unbuttoning each individual button. His hands linger on Kurt's cotton-covered shoulders and then his bare arms as Puck pushes the shirt slowly off, leaving Kurt in a v-neck undershirt that he removes himself.
"Oh, fuck," Puck groans as Kurt lowers himself down again, their bare chests sliding together. "Kurt." He finds Kurt's mouth again, kissing him slowly and carefully, sweeping his tongue through Kurt's mouth again and again, and he can feel Kurt hardening against his thigh, and then Kurt slowly begins to move against him. Puck's own erection is caught between their bodies, and when Kurt moves, his jeans and chest move against Puck.
Puck is fine with the state of affairs, starting to move in a rhythm that enhances Kurt's own, when a thought flashes across his brain, and suddenly, Puck feels like he has to act on it. He carefully pulls away, locking his gaze with Kurt's.
"Can-" he starts, and the words catch in his mouth. A wave of further desire crashes over him, and it takes everything he has not to shudder visibly. He wants, needs, Kurt, just Kurt, nothing else, and even though he has no reason to expect rejection, he knows he'll be devastated if Kurt turns him down.
"What, baby?" Kurt murmurs, and damn. Puck's breath hitches and he lets out of a low moan as Kurt trails a hand over his nipple.
"Please," Puck gasps. "Please let me." He stops again, fumbling for words, and one of hands finds the bulge in the front of Kurt's jeans.
"Touch me?" Kurt asks, and Puck shakes his head.
"No, I mean yes, but not… need to taste you."
"Ohhh." It's a breathy moan that goes straight to Puck's own cock, and he thrusts upward again, without conscious thought. Kurt leans down to whisper in Puck's ear, Puck's eyes falling closed as soon as he feels the hot breath against his earlobe. "Yeah. Okay." Kurt's voice is rich, thick with desire that echoes Puck's own, and Puck nods.
"Yes. Yes."
Kurt pulls back, sitting on his heels for a moment before sliding his legs in front of him and leaning back on the opposite arm of the couch. Puck can feel his mouth drop open, and shifts to crawl over Kurt. He uses one hand to prop himself up, kissing Kurt deeply, the other hand tugging carefully at the button of Kurt's jeans. He fumbles with it for a moment, the material stretched tight over Kurt's erection, and pulls back finally in order to complete his mission. He slides the zipper down. The tip of Kurt's erection peeks out, more and more exposed as Puck draws down the zipper, and his mouth goes dry.
"Holy fuck," he mumbles. "Holy fucking… you sat next to me… you…" Puck stares at the evidence in front of him, the picture clear. Kurt's not wearing any underwear, and part of Puck is pretty sure it's only been that way since Kurt headed to Artie's for the glee club practice, but the rest of Puck doesn't care, and would rather think about sitting next to Kurt at school while Kurt paraded around, no underwear beneath the tight grey jeans.
Kurt's peering up at Puck through his eyelashes, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips, and he doesn't respond, just nods slowly, smile growing larger and smugger with each nod of his head.
Puck bends down, kissing Kurt roughly, his tongue thrusting between Kurt's lips. Kurt arches up towards him, his arms going around Puck's neck, holding him close, not allowing Puck to break the kiss. Puck thrusts down, his own erection pushing down in an impatient, uncoordinated cycle. Their kiss grows increasingly sloppy, and Puck feels as if he's never been more turned on in his life. When Kurt's arms loosen, he starts working his way down Kurt's chest, his hands urging Kurt's hips to lift, sliding off Kurt's jeans.
Somehow, working together, they manage to remove Kurt's jeans, adding them to the growing pile of discarded clothes, and Puck sits back on his heels for a moment, surveying the sight in front of him.
Kurt looks like a painting, Puck decides, a work of art. His arms are flung over his head, flexed just enough to give them definition. His eyes are bright, pupils wide, their stunning color fixed on Puck's own eyes, set just above flushed, dimpled cheeks. His mouth is parted, lips plush and red, all too ready to kiss and be kissed again.
The mark Puck left on him two days earlier is still dark and prominent on his shoulder, and there's a dusting of hair across his chest and down across the flat, toned stomach. Kurt's legs fall apart, his pelvis bones sharp and angular under the skin, the legs slim and pale. And of course, Kurt's erection stands up proudly, heavy above his balls. Puck pucks a hand on Kurt's thigh to steady himself, admiring the contrast between his skin and Kurt's, and takes a ragged breath.
"You are beautiful," Puck finally breathes out, trying and failing to maintain enough oxygen to his brain. Kurt blushes, and it's his whole body that's blushing. Puck didn't think it was possible to get even harder, but he would swear that that's exactly what's happening, especially when just a second later, Kurt lowers his arms, pulling and tugging at Puck's jeans, and before Puck is really sure how it happened, he's naked, too, Kurt's eyes running over him, and he stills, barely breathing, as Kurt licks his lips slowly and gives a little moan that Puck's pretty damn sure indicates approval.
"Amazing," Kurt's voice murmurs, and it's so low, a little raspy, lower even than when Kurt tried singing Mellencamp, and it hits Puck that, fuck, he's probably the only one who's ever heard Kurt's voice like this, and it's that thought that makes him stop staring. He wants to see what other new sounds he can coax out of Kurt, and he bends down, taking the head of Kurt's cock in his mouth.
He sucks at it tentatively, circling his tongue around, slowly taking in more of Kurt's length. Kurt's hands are scrambling at the cushions of the couch, his hips rigid, and when Puck looks up at Kurt's face, his head is thrown back, mouth fallen open. Puck wishes that they had a camera with a timer, because he's pretty sure they'd make an amazingly sexy picture.
"Oh, god," Kurt groans. "Yes. Yes."
If Puck had harbored any doubts about being gay, which he didn't, this would have put them to rest. It's the most intoxicating thing Puck has ever experienced. He can feel Kurt falling apart beneath him. He pulls more of Kurt's cock into his mouth, increasing the suction, and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes at the scent that washes over him. It's minty and citrusy, probably from Kurt's shower products, but also a little sweaty and unbelievably male, and Puck's a little worried about coming all over the couch just from smelling Kurt's cock.
He reaches a hand up and slides it under Kurt's sac, carefully fondling his balls even as he begins to slide up Kurt's cock, then back down again. Kurt's moans are interspersed with a steady stream of "oh gods," and then Puck goes down farther than he managed before, and Kurt says just one word, "PUCK," his voice strangled and low, reverberating around the room. Puck hums in satisfaction, earning a startled yelp from Kurt, followed by "Yes, god, more, more, please, Puck, Puck, please, god, oh fuck, PLEASE," in a constant, nearly repeating stream.
The sound of his name and fuck both spilling from Kurt's mouth makes Puck realize that he's not going to last any longer than Kurt. He slides his other hand to his own erection, pumping it a few times and feeling that there's already pre-come gathering at the tip. Realization hits him like a train-the strange, salty taste that's steadily increasing in his mouth is Kurt's own fluid, and the thought makes him increase his speed, trying to go deeper with each movement, often succeeding. He squeezes Kurt's balls softly, trying to judge how much pressure to use. Kurt arches his hips up, the rigidity with which he's held them giving way at last.
Puck forces his eyes open, looking up through his eyelashes to drink in Kurt's appearance. His pale chest is covered in splotches of pink and red, his head tilted so far back that all Puck can see is the underside of Kurt's chin. Just as he thinks that, Kurt forces his head up, and Puck's gaze locks with Kurt's own. It pierces through all of Puck's self-control, and he moves his hand on his own erection frantically as Kurt begins to shudder, stream after stream of fluid shooting into Puck's mouth. He starts to gag, then moves slightly, pulling back and letting it slide down his throat.
He continues sucking until Kurt stills, and as Kurt does, Puck feels the start of his own orgasm. Kurt's hand runs over the back of his head, and Puck mewls, turning his head into Kurt's hand, releasing Kurt's now-softened cock at last. Puck's hand works at his own cock for a moment more Puck collapses onto his side, completely spent. He lies there, his head resting on Kurt's hipbone, his legs bent uncomfortably, for a long moment, breathing heavily, when Kurt shifts and then slides into the floor.
Puck gasps at the first brush of Kurt's tongue over his hand, and he realizes that Kurt is methodically and precisely devouring every drop of fluid that Puck released. It feels like minutes before Kurt appears satisfied, climbing back onto the couch, and Puck sits up, pulling Kurt into his arms and kissing him slowly.
He releases Kurt reluctantly, staring into Kurt's eyes, and Kurt smiles, resting his head on Puck's shoulder.
"Mmm. Are you sure you've never done that before?" Kurt finally asks. Puck just nods. "Well. Natural talent, I guess," Kurt grins, kissing the side of Puck's neck.
Puck feels like he should make a smug remark, or at least smirk, but he's still coming down off his high and all he can think to say is a mumbled, "Best thing ever."
Kurt lifts his head at that and kisses him again, full on the mouth. "God, yes," he agrees, eyes sparkling.
They sit like that, huddled together, for a few minutes longer before Kurt says with no little reluctance that they should get dressed. "Finn or Dad could be home in ten minutes or so," he explains, handing Puck his t-shirt. Puck redresses rapidly, watching Kurt slide on his jeans and undershirt, leaving the blue shirt unbuttoned and forgoing the scarf entirely. Then Kurt sits back down and pulls Puck to him.
Puck doesn't mean to fall asleep, but he's been up for hours, and had an pretty orgasm on top of that, so when Kurt's arm settles around his shoulders and his eyes want to drift closed, he lets them, face pressed into Kurt's side, the mint/citrus/sweat smell of Kurt mingled now with another scent, and there's a smile on Puck's face when he drifts off to sleep.
He rouses slowly, low voices talking, and he decides to keep his eyes shut and face planted against Kurt. He thinks he's not been asleep for long, maybe fifteen minutes, tops, and his head's still a little fuzzy anyway.
"He's asleep?" he hears Finn whisper incredulously, and then he feels the muscles in Kurt's chest move as he nods.
"He's been up since 5, probably," Kurt points out, volume low. "Not surprising, really."
There's silence for a few minutes, and Puck's beginning to wonder if Finn left the room when he speaks up again. "Are you going to wake him up soon?"
There's no reply from Kurt, but Finn chuckles. "You should see your face, pouting. Yes, Kurt, at the end of the day, you have to give your boyfriend back."
Something happy and fierce pools in Puck's belly, and Kurt's arm tightens around him. The other runs softly over his head, shaved portion and mohawk alike. He can sort of picture Kurt's face, and then Kurt murmurs something that Finn obviously doesn't catch, because he asks what Kurt said, and Kurt says, louder, "Nothing important."
Puck's pretty sure, though, that Kurt said something along the lines of "But I don't wanna."
Finn accepts Kurt's claim, though, and then Puck hears Finn's feet going heavily up the stairs. Puck waits a moment before moving, and it's not entirely put-on. He yawns and sits up a little, resting his head on Kurt's shoulder.
"I need to get you home," Kurt says quietly, and Puck nods in acknowledgement, even though he doesn't really want the evening to end. He knows though that the moment will be broken, somehow, once Kurt's dad arrives, and he reluctantly straightens.
"Okay," he finally speaks, voice a little raspy. "I guess we can do that." He stands, stretching, and reaches out his hand for Kurt. Kurt pulls himself up but doesn't drop Puck's hand, keeping it clasped in his own as they walk out through the garage, until they're standing in front of Kurt's Navigator. Kurt steps closer, kissing him gently first on the mouth and then on the cheek, and then drops Puck's hand at last, unlocking the vehicle.
They're silent on the short ride to Puck's apartment building, the radio playing at a low volume. When Kurt puts it in park, he speaks at last. "I'll see you at 8."
Puck smiles slowly and nods. "I'll look forward to it."
"Be good," Kurt says through the open window as Puck reaches the door.
"I'm always good," Puck calls back, just before the door closes behind him.