AN: This is my first foray into a series of oneshots. Number one of the Conscience Verse is here. I made this pre-Preggo Quinn. So, Beth has no bearing on this Verse, and Quinn is still a bitch. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Please read and review. I'd like to know if I should continue with this Verse or trash it.

AN2: I take personal prompts, so don't be shy to PM me.

Noah Puckerman couldn't remember the last time he cared about anyone but himself and his little sister. He was a baddass, why should he? So when the football team was in the showers, he didn't hesitate to revel them with tales of what their mothers could do in bed. Sure it was cruel and whatever, but it also asserted his badassery.

He was in the middle of telling Karofsky just how his mother could bend when Hummel spoke from where he was huddled on a bench, waiting for everyone else to leave before he showered. "Puck, can't you shut up for like, one day?" he asked tiredly. "We all know you're a badass whore, okay? We get it." Puck grinned slowly as the rest of the locker room quieted. No one questioned Puck's badassedness and got away with it, certainly not a fairy queen like Hummel.

"Your mother's great in bed, Hummel," he started, voice low.

Kurt snickered. "Yeah, Puck, okay. Because you would know."

Puck shrugged. "I'm just saying, when I'm cleaning your pool, she's cleaning me."

That seemed to piss Kurt off. "You don't know anything about my mother, you Neanderthal," he snapped, eyes narrowed. This was true, actually. No one at school knew about Kurt's mother. Everyone assumed he had one, but they didn't know for sure as she hadn't been present at things since around the third grade.

Most people had forgotten that little fact and just thought she couldn't be bothered by her fairy son. No one noticed Kurt enough to notice how sad he always got around September fourteenth (her birthday), and November twenty-ninth (the day she died), how whenever he got a bruise, he would stare at it in worry for a while, how compassionate he was towards anyone with cancer. No one knew that he donated half his pay every other paycheck to the Susan G. Komen For The Cure Foundation. No one at this school knew anything.

It was because Kurt was such a loner that no one knew that his mother had died of breast cancer when he was eight. He spent days that he didn't work at his father's auto shop volunteering at the hospital and talking to cancer patients. It always made his throat constrict, but he felt the need to contribute somehow, to honor his mother's memory. "I know she can do this great thing with her tongue..." Puck trailed off, smirking lecherously.

"Shut your fucking mouth," Kurt said quietly, eyes burning bright. He'd never sworn in front of them before. Karofsky opened his mouth as if to speak, but Puck held a hand up cautiously. Hummel knew the rules. He didn't talk back when someone threw insults his way; it wasn't his place. He was nobody in the high school social scheme.

Mostly everyone had left now, save for Kurt, Puck, Karosfky and Azimio. But Kurt didn't look scared, more like...self righteous. Pissed off. Upset. Puck glanced towards the two jocks behind him, both staring at Kurt like they wanted to seriously hurt him. He knew they were sadistic but seriously; the look in their eyes was disturbing. He sent them away with an easy, "Catch you later." They left, Karofsky reluctantly, and it was just Puck and Kurt.

"You know better, fairy. You shut your mouth and take what you deserve for being a loser," Puck told him, frowning. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Go away, Puck," Kurt muttered, and he whirled away, almost fast enough that Puck didn't catch the glimmer in his eyes and the paleness of his face.

"Hummel?" Puck asked uncertainly, because if there was one thing his badassedness couldn't take, it was a small chick crying. He'd seen enough of it with his little sister, and Kurt looked and sounded enough like a chick that Puck felt bad.

"Get away from me," Kurt muttered, but his voice cracked anyways. God, these idiots just didn't understand. They could say whatever they wanted about him, but not his mother. Not his kind, beautiful, sweet, talented, loving mother. She was accepting and the best part of their family, and now she was gone, and he couldn't breathe and suddenly he found himself sitting back down on the bench, head between his knees.

"Um, Kurt? Dude, if it makes you feel better, I was lying," Puck offered, at a loss, shuffling his feet.

Kurt glanced up at him in disbelief through his tousled bangs."No, really? I didn't take you to be a necrophiliac Puck, rest assured."

Puck was confused. "What do you mean?"

Kurt stood shakily, grabbing his things and foregoing his shower in the hopes of getting home as soon as possible. "Look it up," he snapped as he made his way out of the locker room, door banging shut behind him and leaving Puck with the thought that he was turning into a girl. Why else he would he care about Kurt Hummel? Why else would Kurt's lack of control bring him concern instead of joy? He vowed to look up necrophilia when he got home, just in case.