Warning: slash, and the occasional swear. Just so's ya know.
Reviews are love!

As he raised a fist to knock on the door, he almost sighed. Puck knew that this would happen. He'd knownthat if he got into any contact with that bloody Kurt Hummel that this would happen. He had been sure Hummel's gayness was contagious. If he so much as hung out with Hummel, then he was doomed to turning into a pouncy little homo, just like him. He had been sure of it.
Noah Puckerman was right: just not in the way he had expected.

It started when Hummel decided one day out of the blue that he would go and destroy what was left of the social ranking by auditioning for the role of kicker. Puck nearly hit him. Audition? This was football dammit, you didn't audition! And you certainly didn't dance, jutting your girly little hips in time to 'Single Ladies'. Honestly, what'd the homo think this was? Glee!?
When the football flew straight and true between the posts, Puck looked away, trying to hide the fact that he was impressed. Just a tiny bit. Now, could Hummel do that without the gay dancing? That was the real question.
But it turned out that it wasn't just Hummel who needed the gay dancing, and Puck found himself jutting his (a hell of lot less girly) hips in time with Single Ladies, feeling like an idiot as he did so. He'll admit though - he didn't feel like an idiot as he scored, effectively tying the two teams. And when Hummel made the winning goal, the crowd roaring its approval, Puck didn't hide the fact that he was impressed. Impressed. Ecstatic. Whatever.


He didn't rip on Hummel in the locker room that evening. Everyone was too excited over their first win of the season to really take any note, so he didn't get any awkward questions about his lack of 'fag' and 'homo' comments, for which he was grateful. But Kurt noticed.

The next thing that added to it was probably the stupidest and best decision of Puck's life. He needed to keep an eye on Quinn: she was his baby-mama after all and that sorta thing you just don't ignore. She was spending a lot of time with the Gleeks lately (God knew why) so he decided that the logical thing to do would be to join the Glee club. He mentioned it to Finn one day after football practise and Mike and Matt overheard; said that they were interested. Puck snorted. Yeah they were interested - in Britney and Santana… But he was secretly glad that they were at his side when the three of them walked in, Mr Schue introducing them to the Gleeks. Puck's eyes roamed the room, looking for Quinn, but they landed on Hummel. The other boy's eyes were narrowed, glaring at him suspiciously. When he realised Puck was looking at him, Kurt raised an eyebrow in an obvious question, somehow managing to look superior at the same time. Puck realised with a frown that, in here, in this room: he was. Hummel was the king – queen – of this castle, and he knew it. Puck wasn't sure he liked that.


It was a few weeks before he heard the guy sing for the first time solo, outside of the backup chorus to Rachel and Finn. He had a clear, piercing soprano and as Puck watched him sing (some song that he and Berry were having a bitch-fit over) he realised that he didn't care too much that Hummel was better than him here. Puck just wanted him to be better than Berry as well. So when the clear voice wavered and cracked, blowing both the note and his chances of singing the solo, Puck winced in sympathy. He realised what he had done, and expertly schooled his features into nonchalant boredom. But Kurt noticed.

The third thing happened on an average Tuesday. It was nearing the end of lunch, and Puck was making his way to his locker when he heard a gasp and the sound of crushed ice hitting the floor. He turned around in time to catch the word 'Faggot' and to see Hummel covered in cherry flavoured slushie, glaring after a tall guy with blonde hair – Puck recognised Joshua Franley, Captain of the basketball team and felt a surge of anger towards the lanky blonde. He started after the other guy, fists clenched, not entirely sure what he was going to do or why he was going to do it – he was so focussed on getting to Franley that he didn't even realise that Hummel had stepped into his path until he all but walked into him. "Don't." was all he said, eyes serious as the syrupy ice melted into his hair and new vest, staining them both sticky.
"But-" Puck started, looking over Hummel's shoulder. Franley had gone.
Hummel pushed his hair out of his eyes with a shudder at the state it was in.
"I appreciate the thought, but this happens all the time. It's not worth getting pounded by a guy who's at least two feet taller than you." Hummel said patting Puck's arm almost condescendingly, before turning and walking into the nearby bathroom. Puck stared after him in disbelief. Did he – had he really just…? Puck grinned viciously. His badassness had just been questioned.
(It was the perfect excuse, really – and who was he to pass up opportunity?)


The next day Franley came to school with a black eye, cut lip and swollen cheek. Puck came to school with bruised knuckles and a tender wrist. He got questioned and in Glee he finally admitted that he had punched Franley after school the previous day. When asked why, Puck shrugged and said that his 'badassness' was being questioned. Whilst the others shook their heads in disbelief and resignation, Puck's eyes flicked to Hummel and he smiled. Not his usual smirk, but a genuine smile – not that Puck thought there was much of a difference. But Kurt noticed.

The fourth time, Puck was, admittedly, slightly drunk. It was the last night of sectionals (which they had breezed through!) and they were all in Rachel's room at the hotel they were staying in (she'd somehow ended up with the biggest) celebrating their good run. The group had been put down the far end of the building, away from the other tenants. Good foresight, Puck thought. It wasn't like the party was hardcore insane, but it was nice, just dancing around to god-knows-what-music-this-was, having a few drinks with his gleeky friends and sharing in the wonderful feeling of their shared success. Puck was feeling positively… gleeful. He giggled at the pun in his own head, earning an odd look from Mike. Matt. One of them. Who could tell these days?
Ok, so maybe he'd had more than his fair share of the drinks they'd all managed to smuggle from home, but no one had called him out on it, and Mr Schue was at dinner with Ms Pillsbury and everyone was pretty sure they would be too… ah… busy to come and check on them afterwards: so why not? He had been dancing for most of the night (it was just getting on one in the morning) and had decided fuzzily that sitting down would be a good idea. He had swept the room with his eyes. Rachel and Mercedes and Quinn were on the couch, gossiping. Tina was jumping around with Britney and Santana. Finn was chatting to Artie (nope, can't take that seat) and – Ah! There was a free spot on the windowsill-couch-thing, right beside Kurt. So Puck walked over and plopped himself down beside the other boy, grinning widely. The kicker returned his smile, his cheeks flushing pleasantly. "Noah." He greeted, and Puck grinned anew at the slight lilt to his teammate's words. "You've been drinking" he sing-songed and Hummel held up his wine glass in a silent toast. (Puck had to stop himself from giggling, because seriously? A wine glass?!). "What're you doing over here by yourself Hummel?" he asked, taking another swig of his bottle of vodka. He might stop soon. He didn't think a major hangover in the morning would go down too well with the Schuester, and Ms Pillsbury might give him a very unhelpful brochure. Ew.
Hummel smiled, his green-blue eyes glinting with amusement.
"I am amusing myself by watching everyone else get drunker by the hour, whilst drinking enough myself so as not to feel awkward whilst I watch those around me embarrass themselves and others."
"Are you watching me Hummel? You perv!" Puck cackled, thinking himself hilariously funny as the other boy rolled his eyes, cheeks flushing pink.
Puck turned to him quite seriously, catching his eye.
"As much fun as you're having ogling my arse, aren't ya lonely over here by yourself?" Puck asked, slinging an arm around the other boys' shoulders.
The kicker chuckled humourlessly, tossing back the last of his wine before flicking his bangs out of his eyes and turning to face Puck.
"If there is one thing I know how to handle, Noah Puckerman, it is loneliness." Puck stared at him for a minute, a feeling of guilt coming over him. That was probably his fault. Oops. Guess he'd have to make it up to him. Puck took one last swig from his bottle, before handing the vodka over to Hummel, who raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow, taking the alcohol cautiously.
"Drink that," Puck ordered, "and then come and dance with the rest of us drunken idiots." Kurt grinned slowly and did as he was told.


It was about three thirty before they finally turned the music off and everyone was just settling in to crash the night in Rachel's room (Mr Schuester was still too busy to check on them, it seemed…). Puck was lying half asleep on the windowsill-seat thing, when Hummel knelt beside him, his face even redder and his eyes tired and shining. "Hey Noah" he whispered, and Puck turned his head to face the other boy, only to be met with a pair of lips against his own. They caressed his quickly and gently, and a second after Puck realised what was happening, Hummel pulled back. Their eyes caught and held each others for a moment before the kicker looked away, an embarrassed look crossing his face. "Thanks. For, y'know... Including me tonight. I had a lot of fun."
Puck shrugged, his brain still processing what had just happened.
"No one should be used to loneliness…" he managed to yawn out tiredly before drifting off to sleep. The last (vaguely) coherent thought that passed through Puck's mind was a single question… had Hummel noticed that he had maybe, just for a second… had sorta kissed him back?
Said boy was smiling contentedly as he tiredly lay down on the free window cushion, looking blearily out to the night. His lips tingled pleasantly. Oh yeah. Kurt had noticed.

[Knock knock knock]

It was almost five months to the day that it had all started: Puck had counted. Five months ago, Kurt Hummel had joined the football team and all of Puck's nightmares looked like they were coming true. But, somewhere along the way, he had stopped being frightened and stopped being disgusted. He just took it as it was, and went with it. Which is why he is currently looking up at a man who looked way too much like a trucker to be related to Kurt Hummel.

"Umm… I think I got the wrong house…" Puck muttered, about to back away in the hope that the man wouldn't harm him, when a voice called from inside the house.

"Who is it Dad?" Kurt Hummel came into view as he came around the corner and he stopped in his tracks upon seeing who it was.

Not surprising, considering Puck hadn't exactly acknowledged the other boys' existence since he woke up in Rachel Berry's suite with the image of Kurt Hummel pressing his lips against his own embedded into his memory forever.

"Noah! Um.. hi."

"Hey Hu-" he coughed, cutting himself off. "Kurt."

Kurt sidled up to his father, elbowing him gently in the side when the man didn't do anything. The truckie looked down at his son, who raised an eyebrow, nodding his head non-to-subtly inside the house. The man's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, before his eyes widened and he looked back at Puck, then his son, clarity on his face.

"Oh. Oh right. I'm- I'm just gonna… go. Um. I think there's a game on." He hurried back inside, and Kurt chuckled, stepping out onto the porch and shutting the door behind him.

"Honestly, I love him, but he's about as subtle as a fake tan gone wrong."

Puck chuckled awkwardly. He wasn't sure what he was meant to do here. Sure, he was an expert but –

"So. Noah. All my furniture is still on my deck. There doesn't appear to be any toilet paper, eggs, or stones being thrown… and you still haven't said anything to me… In fact, you've barely spoken to me in the past two weeks. You'll forgive me for asking, but – what exactly are you doing here?"

Puck could keep a straight face through anything – poker, lies, jokes… but if he was nervous – really, honestly nervous – then he wouldn't be able to stop a hand from running over his mohawk. It reminded him of when his Mum used to comfort him when he was little. That was what he was doing now, recreating the soothing motion with his own hand against his hair. He made himself meet Kurt's eyes.

"See, the thing is-"

And he stepped forward and pressed their lips together. It was quick, and sweet, and unsure. And when he tried to pull away, Kurt brought a hand up around his neck and Puck tilted his head to the left and suddenly he was running his hands up Kurt's back, pulling him closer, and –

There was an agitated 'rap rap rap', and they broke apart breathlessly. Kurt scanned his yard for the source of the noise as Puck nearly shat himself at the sight of Mr Hummel looking sternly at him from the living room window from behind his son's turned back. Puck quickly grabbed Kurt's hand, causing Mr Hummel to raise an eyebrow in a way that reminded him way too much of Kurt, before shutting the curtains as he turned away, back to the game that was playing on their widescreen.

Puck realised after a second that he was still holding Kurt's hand, and he glanced at the kicker to gage his reaction. The boy was looking down at their interlocked fingers with a small smile on his face, and Puck felt his stomach swoop. Kurt must have felt Puck's eyes on him, because he looked up at the other, hope in his eyes his smile showing signs of confusion and doubt. They were wiped away as his smile widened to a fully fledged grin when Puck didn't let go, instead squeezing slightly, meeting his eyes levelly.

"What changed?" Kurt asked quietly and Puck chuckled.

"I finally noticed."

Kurt's eyebrows came together in confusion.

"Noticed what?"

Puck grinned as he leant down, his lips whispering teasingly over Kurt's as he replied.