Notes: So this is The End. After this, there will be no more. I mean it. No more chapters after this one.
However, those of you that actually care should note that Stick (Like A Pig) will be getting a sequel next week, so if you feel like a change from drama to murder I suggest you check it out. Not that you will. Because it takes a special kind of person to want to read a serial killer future!fic, and you're better than that...
"I have this theory," Rachel started, hands clasped together on her knees. She stared earnestly at Finn from the opposite end of the couch, her big brown eyes as serious as they could get and for a moment he found himself distracted by their honesty. Honesty, he had decided, was very attractive in a woman. "Finn? Are you listening?"
"You have a theory," Finn prompted, proving that he had been listening.
"Yes. I have a theory," Rachel repeated. She resettled on the couch and leaned forward. "About Kurt and Puck."
"I don't know if I actually want to hear this."
"You see, I don't think they're actually fake-dating." Rachel nodded to herself. "You've met my dads, haven't you? Well you know how they're such different people but who also have lots of things in common, enough so that they work together really well as a couple? I think that's what's actually happening with Puck and Kurt. They're not fake-dating, they're actual-dating. They just don't know it yet."
Finn frowned, and glanced briefly in the direction of Kurt's basement room. It was pretty obvious that Finn's almost-stepbrother and his best friend were friends now, but that wasn't exactly unusual. Kurt was now also friends with Matt and Mike, and both he and Finn had been invited over for singstar karaoke night several times before. But the idea of Puck actually dating Kurt (and not just pretending to) made almost no sense to him. "I don't know... I think you might be reading too much into this."
"No, it makes sense. Opposites attract," Rachel started, "but in order for there to be real attraction you also have to have things in common. Puck likes football and sport and rolling around in the dirt –"
"Rach, he's my friend, not a dog."
"– and Kurt likes fashion and theatre and keeping things neat. But they both enjoy singing, they both appreciate classic cars, and they both like the same action movies because Puck likes the explosions and Kurt can enjoy the shirtless sweaty muscle-men and make fun of the bad dialogue. Are you with me so far?"
"Yeah," Finn agreed reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean they're attracted to each other."
"Anyone who has a functioning set of eyes can tell that they're attracted to each other." Rachel held up one finger, "Puck holds hands with Kurt in public, and has kissed him in front of Tina, someone that he doesn't actually need to convince of their supposedly nonexistent relationship, as well as in front of practically the whole school during lunch." She held up a second finger, waited a second to build a dramatic pause, then added her second observation; "And Kurt let him."
Fate or good timing interrupted Finn before he could begin to think of a rebuttal. The front door swung open and in sauntered Kurt, mid-argument, dressed in white skinny jeans and a candy-striped shirt, matching fedora perched at a jaunty angle on his head. "... completely missing the point," he said to Puck, who followed him in like the shadow of opposite-day in dark baggy jeans and a plain grey-blue t-shirt. "The entire point of the movie is to not judge a person by what's on the outside."
"Yeah, so why did that dude have to change his whole look before she went out with him?" Puck asked, stubbornly sticking the point. "If the point was that the outside didn't matter then she shouldn't have cared."
"But he had to change his look in order to prove to her that he was exactly the same – actually, scratch that, that he was better than any of those other gorgeous, available guys if she would only take the time to look."
"So to prove that he's better he decides to look exactly like them?"
"Exactly. It's a method of social commentary," Kurt explained as they crossed the living room to get to the door to the basement, "emulating something in order to prove its uselessness in society."
"Seriously? 'Cause all I got out of that is that she was a bitch with double standards."
Kurt rolled his eyes and yanked open the door to his room. "You are such a Neanderthal."
"Bite me," Puck replied, smirking, and shut the door on Kurt's reply.
Finn looked away from the closed door and to his girlfriend's face, only to see Rachel looking right back at him with a smug expression on her face. "There," she said, "see? They are totally going out for real. They just haven't admitted it to themselves yet."
"It makes a sick kind of sense," Finn said to himself, only a little bit horrified about the idea of his almost-brother and his best friend actually dating, "that Puck would be bi."
Rachel reached over and patted his knee.
Kurt wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten here, three months, six detentions, and two more mandatory assemblies on bullying later. He lay on top of his bed with another body between himself and the mattress, lipgloss smudged and mostly gone where it had wiped off onto the mouth beneath his. It made everything taste like cola, which was something he didn't mind because it made the other boy's tongue dart out and run over his lips, chasing the flavour like he couldn't get enough.
Kurt had sort of bought this flavour lipgloss with the sole intention of putting it on before kissing.
A large, warm hand slid down his back and wormed its way into the back pocket of his skinny jeans. Kurt pulled away just a little and pushed himself up so he could look down at the other boy. Puck smirked back up at him, lips puffy and kiss-bruised.
"Are we dating?" Kurt asked frankly.
The smirk fell from Puck's lips and he gave Kurt a look of incredulity. "What?"
"I realise it's an arbitrary question, but – "
"– I think it would be nice to actually... Oh." Kurt blinked down at the other boy. "Well. That's good then."
Puck's hand squeezed against Kurt's backside, massaging his flesh through the thin layer of denim. "Can we get back to kissing now?" he asked, one eyebrow arched.
"Yes," Kurt replied, nodding, "yes, I think we should."
On Friday evenings after their respective practices Puck was teaching Kurt how to punch. Or trying to. It usually ended in the same way.
And frankly, you don't care what anyone else thinks.