Notes: For those of you who've been reading this story the whole way through - this chapter picks up right where the last one ended, which means we're still in Late September, immediately after Nathan's death.

I hope you all enjoyed this story, and if you did then I hope you find the time to tell me. Because even though in future I may very well write about what happens next in this world there's no guarantee I'll be publishing it if I don't think anyone will enjoy reading it.

Warnings: (Minor) Character death, graphic violence, boy/boy sex.



Late September

Somehow, through some miracle, Puck managed to get the blood cleaned up and the body hidden away and still pick up the Chinese food for dinner before his mother was expecting him back. He spent the entire evening thinking about the body - about Nathan being dead. And about how ridiculously easy it had been to kill someone.

The body still sat where he'd left it, wrapped up neatly in a tarp he'd bought from a hardware store a few blocks down the road from Magic Li's. His current hiding place was just a temporary solution designed to get the body the fuck out of sight. He'd have to go back and move it somewhere else.

He thought about where he could dump the body while he ate dinner with his mother and sister, thought about it while sitting in front of the TV afterwards until he finally had an idea for a place that might actually work.

Only first he had to do a bit of leg work.

Puck raided the cleaning chemicals under the sink, knowing he'd probably have to clean up a bit before he left the body. He looked through his wardrobe until he found the pair of leather motorcycle gloves he'd bought a couple of years ago and never actually worn. He dressed in plain, baggy clothes, the kind that didn't get you noticed, and decided on sneakers instead of boots. More people wore this brand of sneakers than steel-caps, and he didn't want to be distinctive. Puck had seen plenty of cop shows - enough to know that a footprint was considered evidence and that different brands had different treads.

He left the house at nine at night with a simple 'be back late' to his mother. She didn't care much about what he did these days, as long as he stayed out of trouble and was there to run errands. Sometimes that freedom made him feel like she didn't care. Right now it felt like a blessing.

He picked up the body, plus tarp, and somehow got it into the bed of his pickup truck, arranged so that nobody could tell that it was actually a dead guy and not just something he didn't want exposed to the elements. It was long past ten before he was done, the tarp thoroughly cleaned and rolled neatly back into a small bundle in the back of his truck.

Puck parked on the side of the road, a small frown on his face as he thought. He'd been thinking a lot in the past few hours.

He pulled out his phone and frowned at it for a moment before he scrolled to Kurt's name in his contact list. It was a number he'd never actually called before, only in his phone from the few times they'd been in a group that needed to coordinate rehearsals for glee-club assignments. The phone rang seven times before Kurt answered, sounding wary.

"Hey," Puck said, "I had this idea... If I come pick you up can we talk face to face?"

"It's ten-thirty at night," Kurt replied, as if talking to a child.

"So?" Puck smirked to himself. He had an idea of how to get Kurt to react the way he wanted to. "I'll tell you where I dumped Nathan's body."

Kurt was silent, but Puck could hear his breathing suddenly get heavier. "Um... Ok," Kurt said eventually. "But you'll have to park down the road. You can't come to the door."

"Badass Hummel," Puck teased, "sneaking out at night." He checked the time, then told him; "I'll be there in ten minutes. Be ready."



Kurt looked strange sitting in the passenger seat of the truck. He'd thrown on the first decent outfit he could find and climbed out the basement window to avoid being caught by his dad. Puck had been waiting for him and Kurt had practically flung himself into the truck before demanding that they drive.

Now the truck was parked under a streetlamp by a small park, the surrounding area completely and totally empty of people.

"So..." Kurt said.

"I wrote up this list," Puck started, digging the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket to show the other boy.

"Karofsky, Azimio, Phillips, Donahue, Robinson..." Kurt looked up at him in surprise, blue eyes wide. "These are all of the school's biggest bullies.

"Nathan would be on there too, but he's dead."

Kurt's eyes widened a little at the way he said that, and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. He looked at the list, then back at Puck as if trying to gauge just how serious the other boy was being. "Did you use bleach like I told you?" Kurt asked quietly. Puck nodded. "Did you make sure you didn't leave anything behind?" Puck nodded again. "Did you... did you dump the body where it wouldn't be found for at least a couple of weeks?"

"I'm not stupid, Hummel."

"No," Kurt said softly, looking at Puck's lips. "No, I don't think you are, are you?"

"I know death makes you hot," Puck added. He could see it when Kurt blushed thanks to the light from the street lamp outside. He flashed the other boy a grin. "Come on? Internet videos? You're not watching CSI, you're jerking off to snuff."

"I'm not attracted to dead people," Kurt replied stiffly.

"But they get you hot for cock, right?" Puck shifted, turning a little and moving his hips to give Kurt a little something to look at. "So you know all about it, what to do and all that shit? How to not get caught? You've thought about it a lot."


"I want to take that list," Puck stated, completely serious, "and cross off all those names. And I want to do it with a knife. With my bare fucking hands in a pair of leather gloves."

Kurt licked his lips again, this time clearly looking at Puck's crotch. Then his eyes flicked back up to Puck's face."Why?"

"Because nobody fucks with me, or my friends. I'm the god-damn Puckasaurus. If they're too stupid to learn from my fists then they're too stupid to learn at all. So," Puck shrugged, "I'll just get rid of them."

"Oh my God." Kurt unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face Puck properly. "Ok. I'm going to pounce on you now."

"So you'll tell me what to do? You'll help me?"

"Fuck yes."

"Then hurry up and pounce, Hummel."

He dropped Kurt back home just after midnight, clothing rumpled, face flushed and lips puffy from kissing. Puck decided not to think too hard about the making out and mutual frenzied handjobs in the front seat of his pickup. It was fun, it was sex, and it wasn't as if Kurt was going to tell anyone.

Puck bought the knife the next day. A big hunting knife with a serrated edge on one side. He tucked it out of sight and drove to the other side of town to buy a gas can and a gallon bottle of bleach. He showed Kurt after choir practice and received a very enthusiastic blowjob in an empty math classroom. Afterwards, looking at Kurt's shiny pink lips, Puck had agreed that it was best to plan backwards - starting with where the body should be dumped and going from there.

"You have to tell me," Kurt demanded, pressed tight against him with his arms around Puck's waist. "Every time. You have to give me every single tiny little detail."

"Don't worry," Puck replied, hooked his thumbs through the belt-loops on Kurt's pants and smirked. "I'll make it good for you."



November 1st, Monday

School on Monday was unusually peaceful. There were no dumpster tosses, nobody waiting to throw slushies on unsuspecting geeks. There was even a suspicious lack of verbal jeering. Everything was quiet, Puck noted with satisfaction as he walked through the front doors of William McKinley High. He headed down the hallway to the usual before-school congregation at Kurt's locker, a little surprised to see Brittany standing there with Tina, Artie and Mercedes.

"Well, it's official," Tina said to the rest of the group, looking over Artie's shoulder at the newspaper he was holding. "There is actually a serial killer in Lima."

"One with a thing for jocks," Artie agreed.

"That makes you guys safe," Puck commented as he joined the group. He joined the cluster around Artie and looked down at the article everyone was currently focussed on. A quick scan for names and he saw that they'd found the bodies of Robinson and Azimio. The rest were listed as 'missing, presumed dead'. Puck smirked to himself when he saw the last paragraph that reluctantly admitted that police had no suspects.

"Lima's first serial killer targets dumb jocks," Artie said, folding the newspaper up again. "It's a great time to be a nerd."

"And a girl," Mercedes added, and touched fingers with Tina.

"Puck isn't a girl," Brittany pointed out seriously. "And he plays sports."

At first glance they seemed fine with the idea that six of their classmates were dead. The way they all turned to look at Puck, expressions ranging from outright worry to 'trying-to-hide-my-concern', said otherwise. Puck could have reassured them, but he thought it would be a really stupid idea to openly admit to murder. Instead he just shook his head. "I'm a gleek. I think I'm safe. Where's Kurt?" he asked Mercedes, hoping to direct the conversation away from the danger he was supposedly in.

Mercedes shook her head. "Not here. I haven't seen him."

"What if the killer got him?" Brittany asked.

"Kurt's safe," Puck replied, and patted her shoulder. "He doesn't play sport."

"But he's on the Cheerios."

"Cheering isn't a sport," Tina said, obviously hoping to reassure her friend, "it's... cheering."

"Oh," Brittany didn't sound convinced, but she looked a little less worried anyway.

"Kurt's too fabulous to let himself get caught by some serial killer," Mercedes assured her.

"Is someone talking about me?" Kurt's voice sailed through the air, confident and clear. He stopped for a moment to give Mercedes a quick 'hello' hug before continuing two feet onwards to his locker. "I heard the words 'fabulous' and 'serial killer'," he added, checking his hair in the mirror on the inside of his locker door. "And I can assure you, it's not true. I did not in fact kill a man for the last pair of Gucci loafers in a size 11 last Saturday. I will swear to my grave that he tripped and fell."

Puck grinned at that. He moved to lean against the locker beside Kurt's and informed the other boy; "They were afraid the serial killer got you."

"Oh, he did," Kurt replied, "we had hot sex in the back of his car last night, and he let me go when I told him I had school in the morning."

"That's not funny," Mercedes protested, and glared at him when Puck said;

"I think it's funny."

"Thank you, Noah." Kurt smiled at him. "Oh, and my dad wants me to invite you over to watch some sports game on the big screen."

"Why does your dad want to invite Puck over?" Mercedes asked, one eyebrow raised as she looked back and forth between both boys.

"We're dating," Kurt replied simply.

"Fucking," Puck corrected, and smirked when Kurt's nose wrinkled in irritation.

"Whatever," he said. "Are you coming or not?"


"And you're taking me to dinner after glee today. We need to talk about your future career path. Fast food is not an acceptable dinner destination," he added. "So don't even think about taking me anywhere that deep-fries." Kurt flashed Puck a smile and kissed him on the cheek, then sashayed off in the direction of his first class, leaving both his friends and his 'boyfriend' in shock.

Puck stared after Kurt, watching the way he sliced through the hallway, crowds of milling students parting around him. "You are such a bitch," he muttered, lips involuntarily twisting into a grin.

He had no plan, no list of people to cross off one by one... But he had a feeling that Kurt knew exactly what Puck was going to be doing next. He bypassed the surprised slurry of questions, knowing there would be plenty more where that came from. News that he was supposedly dating Kurt Hummel would be all over the school by the end of the day - the Princess was a sneaky little bitch, but Puck didn't mind. He'd always had a thing for bitches. Especially kinky bitches.

He waited until his second class to text Kurt, hiding his phone under the table. 'bonnie+clyde?'

His phone buzzed with the reply two minutes later. '4ever'.