Title: Gotta Get Through This
schmoop_bingo Card Prompt: wild card - spooning
Summary: Puck falling asleep on his bed wasn't the biggest problem Kurt ever had to face, but it certainly lead to the strangest situation he'd ever experienced.
Warnings/Spoilers/Notes: No spoilers, no warnings. Set in a non-specific Season One. This was supposed to be 3 pages long and it turned into 13 pages. Title from the same song by Daniel Bedingfield, because it was on repeat while I wrote this.
Thanks to Mr. Schue's inability to see utter failure in his Glee club, he had ended up pairing Kurt and Puck together for their latest project. Secretly, Kurt could understand the intelligence behind this move. It would actually make the two of them attempt to be civil long enough to get the job done, which would no doubt boost club moral. Mostly, though, he had to admit that their voices sounded rather well together.
Somehow the two had managed to set aside their differences to work on their project. In fact, Kurt had even felt comfortable enough inviting Puck over to his house to practice the night before their project was due.
They spent four hours finishing off choreography to the tune of Puck whining about it being girly and singing until their throats were sore. When Kurt was finally satisfied that they would blow their duet out of the water and possibly even defeat Rachel Berry in it's star quality, he turned to find Puck collapsed onto his bed, wrinkling the sheets and looking like he was dead to the world.
"What do you think you're doing?" Kurt demanded. Out of all the men to have in his bed he had not wanted Puck to be the first. Even if it was completely platonic.
"Resting, princess," Puck said, not opening his eyes.
Kurt bristled at the nickname Puck had dubbed him with barely two days ago. He walked over and pushed one of Puck's heavy feet off his bed, which caused Puck to open his eyes and look across at him. Kurt tried to ignore the fact that Puck looked just this side of sexy sprawled on his bed with his legs spread thanks to Kurt's actions. "At least get your dirty shoes off my comforter."
Puck rolled his eyes and kicked off his shoes before settling back on the pillow again. There was a slight smirk on his face, no doubt in amusement over the fact that even in this setting he managed to annoy Kurt.
He wasn't about to let Puck get the upper hand here, so he crawled onto his bed next to the boy and stretched out, hands behind his head.
"Don't even think about touching me," Puck stated, eyes closed.
"Like I'd be that desperate," Kurt sniffed in disdain. They fell into silence, the music from Kurt's iPod the only sound in the room. He glanced over at Puck, noticing that Puck's breath was slowing down. He reached over and flicked Puck's ear. "Don't fall asleep."
"I said don't touch me," Puck growled. "If you hadn't made me dance all fucking night then I wouldn't be too tired to move. We should have went with my idea."
"Oh, you mean the idea where you stand like a statue with your guitar and I shake my, what was it you said? Wait, I remember: my glittery fairy ass." Kurt rolled his eyes.
"What can I say? I'm a pimp and that would have proved it."
Kurt managed to hold back a sneer. He rolled onto his side, bringing him closer to Puck, and lowered his voice. "I think you just wanted me to grind up against you. It's no wonder none of the girls you sleep with come back for more if that's your style, making them do all the work. Maybe that's why you have to keep moving on to the next and the next and the next."
Puck was silent for a moment. "You're just begging for an ass kicking, aren't you?"
"Been there, done that," Kurt replied flippantly. He did not know why he was going down this road of conversation. It was like he was wanting to build Puck up until he was too angry to do more than hit Kurt. Which was ridiculous, because that could lead to bruising on his delicate and yet flawless skin.
Puck snorted. "Why don't you just shut up, Hummel, and let me take a nap?"
"Fine, you get thirty minutes," he replied, rolling over so his back was to Puck. He lay awake, listening to Puck breathe and making sure Puck didn't get up to mess with his things, and wondered just why he was allowing Puck to take a nap in his bed of all places. This was just idiotic and Kurt had a feeling it was going to come back and bite him on his perfectly shaped butt.
With everything that was rushing through his head, Kurt was somewhat amazed that he fell asleep. But fall asleep he did and it wasn't until he heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat that he awoke.
The first thing he was aware of was the heavy arm that was wrapped around his waist. He was pulled tight against a hard chest and someone was breathing softly against the back of his neck. He felt a shiver run through him and for a moment ignored the sound he had heard in order to burrow back into the embrace. The arm tightened its hold and he could feel the body behind him move, trying to get closer. Kurt let out a hum of contentment.
The clearing of someone's throat sounded again and this time Kurt allowed his eyes to crack open. The room was somewhat dark, but he could still make out the dark shadow of someone standing next to his bed, staring down at him and...Kurt jolted in surprised and looked down at the tanned arm that was holding him.
"Uh," Kurt started, before shutting his mouth. Honestly, he had no idea what to say as his father glared. For the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to push Puck away from him.
"What the hell is this?" Burt demanded, waving one hand in Puck's direction. Oddly, Burt didn't raise his voice so Puck still remained asleep, completely oblivious.
"It's not what it looks like," Kurt said quickly. He shifted forward, trying to ease himself out of Puck's hold, but the other boy made a sound of complaint in his sleep and pulled Kurt closer. Kurt's eyes widened. Noah Puckerman was spooning him. In front of his father. Kurt made a sound of distress and once again tried to move.
Puck mumbled something against the back of his neck before throwing one of his legs over Kurt's, effectively pinning him.
Kurt turned his face to look at Puck in disbelief before looking up to see an expression that promised a long and painful death flash across his father's face. Unsure of what to do—and completely ignoring the fact that he could do the sensible thing and just wake Puck up—Kurt began to ramble in an attempt to ease his father's anger. "We were practicing and I must admit that I pushed Puck a little too hard. He's used to football, not dance moves that are admittedly brilliant and superior to anything he's attempted before. He'll probably flip out once he realizes it's me he's holding, Dad. So, just, don't kill us?"
"I'm not-" Burt started, before he cut himself off as Puck once again mumbled in his sleep and instead of just pulling Kurt closer, he literally rolled his hips against Kurt's butt.
"Dad!" Kurt squeaked, not really sure if he was asking for help or for his father to just leave already.
"Shut up, Kurt," Puck growled against his skin, moving his body in a way that was practically evil. Kurt fought down the desire to moan, face turning red.
"That's it!" Burt finally bellowed. "Get you're damn hands off my son!"
Puck jerked away, flinging himself backward and essentially falling off the bed and onto the hard floor. Kurt snickered, before falling quiet at the deadly expression on Burt's face. "Uh, Dad, this really isn't what it looks like. Like I said, we fell asleep."
"What the fuck, Hummel?" Puck demanded, pulling himself up until he was peeking over the side of the bed. His eyes widened at the sight of Burt standing there. "I didn't do anything, sir!"
Well, that just made the entire situation look innocent. Kurt glared at Puck as hard as he could without getting wrinkles and then looked imploringly up at his father. "Dad, I would love to continue this discussion with you, once I kick the smelly jock out of our house."
Burt's eyes darted between the two of them, finally taking in his son annoyed face, before nodding. "Fine, but Puckerman? You are never allowed in my son's room again, you got that? If I see you manhandling him like a cheap hooker again then I think you should be aware that I own a rifle and know how to use it. Now get the hell out of my house."
"Yes, sir," Puck said, scrambling to grab his backpack. He shot Kurt a confused look, before rushing up the stairs. A second later they heard the front door slam closed.
"I know I said I wasn't ready to talk about guys with you, Kurt, but if me avoiding the subject is going to result in finding another boy in your bed-" Burt began.
"Dad!" Kurt interrupted, covering his face. "I told you what happened. Trust me, I am not interested in Noah Puckerman." He let his dignity fly out the window for a moment so he could visibly gag. "I would rather walk across burning rocks and sacrifice my beautiful singing voice than be touched by Puck in a way that indicated actual affection."
"Are you sure?" Burt asked. "Because that kid was touching you with more than affection just now."
"He was asleep," he insisted.
"And he said your name, in his sleep," his father pointed out.
"I was hoping to forget that part."
Burt let out a sigh, before patting him heavily on the shoulder. Kurt somehow managed to not fall over and wished his father would remember that Kurt wasn't as solid as him. "Alright, I'm letting this slide. But this is the only freebie you get, got it? From now on when you have a boy over, even if it's a friend, that door stays open. Even if I have to suffer through listening to your music for hours on end. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Dad," Kurt quickly replied.
He managed to make it through most of the next day and even his duet with Puck without actually speaking to the boy. Kurt should have known that wouldn't last.
"You're dad isn't going to slaughter me in my sleep, right?" Puck asked, causing Kurt to jerk away from the bathroom mirror where he was patting his face dry after the latest slushie attack.
"What are you talking about?" Kurt demanded, looking down his nose at Puck. It was a technique that he had perfected and was quite proud of. Looking down ones nose at someone that was clearly taller than him was a skill that he utilized as often as possible.
"I was kind of half-asleep when I left your house yesterday," Puck admitted. "I remember something about a rifle. Your dad does know I'm not a fag, right?"
Kurt scowled. "He's aware, yes. Though you didn't help convince him of that when you started humping me and saying my name in your sleep."
"Shit, dude, shut up!" Puck hissed, looking around the empty bathroom as though one of the other jocks would suddenly magically appear behind a urinal. Kurt rolled his eyes.
"What's the matter, Puck? Afraid someone will think you're a fag?" he countered, grimacing in distaste at the word. Even disregarding the homophobic connotations, the word 'fag' wasn't at all attractive. He took a step closer to Puck, invading the other boy's space and feeling a slight thrill as he did so. He didn't know when their relationship had taken this strange twist, into a place where it wasn't quite friendship and not quite that of enemies. He had to admit he liked it. "Rest assured, Puck, that even if you were gay, I'm the one gay man you'd never be able to get."
Puck stared at him a moment, eyebrows coming together. "Is that a challenge, Hummel?"
"Call me Kurt. You did last night," he said in a soft whisper, knowing it would freak Puck out. He was shocked when instead of getting the angry response he was expecting, Puck's eyes drifted down and remained there, as though he was entranced by something. Kurt wasn't certain, but it seemed that Puck was looking at his mouth. Testing the idea, Kurt licked his lower lip and was utterly amazed when Puck sucked in a sharp breath in response.
"Kurt," Puck repeated, before blinking and taking two steps backward. "Stay the fuck away from me, fairy queen!"
He shook his head as Puck stormed out of the restroom. He had no idea what was going on with that boy, but he had a feeling he was going to find out. Eventually. While Puck wasn't anywhere near as dramatic as Kurt could be about things, he did have a certain flair when it came to conflict. Kurt had a feeling this would be no different. That was the only thing Kurt could be certain of. He just hoped this didn't result in him getting more than a slushie to his face.
Kurt was leaning over the engine of a 1993 Oldsmobile, muttering under his breath about people who never changed their oil regularly, when he felt someone watching him. He figured it was probably one of the other mechanics, sneaking over to make sure he was actually doing his job properly. While Kurt had been around cars his entire life and had spent almost that long helping his dad work on them, the other mechanics sometimes acted like he didn't know an alternator from a spark plug. It wasn't in cruelty, for his father would never allow that kind of behavior from his subordinates, but it was in the mild shock that a guy who flounced around in designer clothing could assist in rebuilding a transmission.
He sighed and pushed the sensation of being watched away. He wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone right then. He was content to just let it be him and the car.
A few minutes passed and the sensation didn't leave him. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Kurt looked up to find Noah Puckerman standing in the garage doorway, staring at him like he had just announced to the world that he was sleeping with a woman. Kurt raised an eyebrow and waited silently for Puck to say something.
Puck remained silent. Kurt shifted slightly, the only indication that he was unnerved by Puck stare.
"Did you need something?" he finally asked.
"You're dirty," Puck blurted out.
Kurt glanced down at his grease covered coveralls. He probably had a few smudges of oil on his cheek from scratching earlier. This was the one place in all of Lima that he didn't normally worry about that kind of thing. Working around cars was dirty business. Besides, it gave him an excuse to spend extra times in the bath when he got home. He sent Puck a look. "That's what happens when someone actually works on a car. From the looks of your truck, I doubt you'd know what that's like."
Puck glared, before shrugging. "Why else would I be here? Your dad is looking at it right now."
"There are two garages in this town and you decided to come to the one with my last name in the title, knowing you'd run into my father?" Kurt asked.
"I had a coupon," Puck mumbled.
If it wouldn't have been so undignified, Kurt would have snorted. "Is there a particular reason you're in here bothering me instead of waiting in the area designated for customers?"
"Well, when your dad commented on you changing someone's oil I just couldn't believe it," Puck explained, sauntering forward. "A little homo like you? There's no way you know your way around a car."
"And yet here I am, getting paid for it and everything," Kurt pointed out, turning to set his supplies down and pick up a rag. He wiped uselessly at his hands and tried, just as uselessly, to ignore Puck. He cleared his throat and turned back to Puck. "How else do you think I afford all of my fabulous clothes?"
"I figured you were a spoiled brat," Puck said. Kurt had to give him credit for his honesty.
"Oh, I'm that, too," Kurt said with a slow grin. Before Kurt could say anything else, Puck reached out and rubbed at a spot on his cheek, thumb moving in a gentle circle. Kurt felt his breath catch in his throat and his eyes widened.
"You had a spot of grease," Puck said nonchalantly, pulling away.
Puck stared at him for another moment, before his face hardened and he looked away. "I should kick your ass, you know."
"I don't see how I've done anything to merit such a punishment, but I suppose that has never stopped you before," he replied, frowning.
"I think you know exactly what you're doing and it's not going to work," Puck hissed, taking a step closer. "I'm not gay and you can't turn me into one of you, so you might as well give up now."
"You are so full of delusional homophobia that you're becoming outrageously paranoid, and for no reason," Kurt informed him, keeping his face blank. "I'm not interested in you, Puckerman. I'll never be interested in you. And do you want to know why? It's the same reason that all of the girls in this town just use you once before moving on. You're not Finn Hudson. You'll always be second place, whether it's in football, glee, or getting getting the resident gay to notice you."
For a moment, Kurt honestly believed that Puck was going to hit him.
"Hey, Puckerman!" Burt's voice cut into the tension like a knife and Kurt felt himself relax. There was no way Puck was try anything with his father in yelling distance. "Stop pestering my son and pay your bill."
"Yes, sir," Puck ground out through gritted teeth, shooting Kurt one last glare before he stormed away.
Puck was avoiding him, which suited Kurt just fine. He didn't want to deal with the other boy anyway. Puck was frustrating and annoying on his best days, but this bipolar side of him made Kurt want to have him hospitalized in some hope of never having to lay eyes on him again.
He ignored the small voice in the back of his head that pointed out that life without Noah Puckerman would be somewhat boring. He hated being tormented on a daily basis at school for what he was by nature, but he had to admit that Puck made life interesting. Puck had been the one to initiate the first dumpster toss and slushie facial, but he was also the one—along with Finn—to keep Kurt's torment to that level. Kurt knew the other jocks would have loved to actually hurt more than just his clothes.
Two days passed and all he saw of Puck was a mohawk down the hallway or the other boy glaring at him from across the Glee choir room. Kurt ignored him in return, figuring this attitude was better than how Puck could be reacting toward him.
He almost made it three days without any real Puck interaction. Almost.
He had been walking down the hallway toward the library during study hall, minding his own business and trying to concentrate on an essay in History class, when a hand grabbed the collar of his sweater. He yelped as he was dragged into the nearest closet, which from the smell could only belong to the nearly nonexistent janitors. His back was slammed into the closed door and for a moment Kurt thought, well, this was it. He was finally going to get beaten beyond recognition.
He wanted to fight back, but the strength in the hands clutching him told him it wouldn't be the smartest idea.
The closet was dark and he couldn't quite make out the person pinning him. A few seconds allowed the fear that had spiked to subside minutely, though, and with that came a scent that was oddly familiar. Kurt's mind immediately flashed back to the feeling of warm arms wrapped around him and a hot breath hitting the back of his neck. He swallowed. "Puck?"
"Shut up," Puck hissed. "Just shut the fuck up."
"Let me go," Kurt said in as calm a voice as he could manage. He pushed at Puck's chest and turned, reaching for the door handle.
Before he could get a good hold of it Puck rammed into his back. He managed to catch himself with his hands before he hit the door face first. He sucked in a sharp breath, feeling that fear spike through him once more as Puck pressed his entire body up against him. Puck's hands came up and covered his own, holding them hard against the wood of the door.
"You know, I tried to forget about it," Puck whispered. "I tried to forget about what it felt like to press up against you like this, wrapped around that tight body of yours. I fucking tried to forget, but then you had to go and bait me with your words and the grease on your cheek and every day in Glee I have to hear that ridiculously beautiful voice of yours."
"Do you want me to apologize?" Kurt replied, turning his head to look at the dark shadow of Puck's face. "I can't stop being me, Puck."
Puck growled in response. Kurt held his breath when Puck released his hands, sliding his palms along Kurt's arms and the down his sides. He felt a tremble run through him as Puck's hands ran downward until Puck was able to take hold of his hips. Puck's fingers tightened, holding him still and Puck's body moved in closer. Kurt's mouth dropped open and he closed his eyes when he felt Puck's breath against his ear, followed by the slightest brush of lips along his neck.
"What are you-?"
He cut himself off when he felt Puck roll his hips against him, causing him to feel the distinct bulge of Puck's arousal. Kurt let out a whimper, immediately flushing red in embarrassment. That embarrassment flew out the window when Puck did it again. Kurt's head dropped forward, exposing the back of his neck to Puck's mouth. He felt lips and the graze of teeth and the wet sensation of Puck dragging the tip of his tongue across heated skin.
"Puck," Kurt breathed out, unsure of what to say or do. He never thought he'd be in this situation, not with Puck and, honestly, not with anyone. Not while in high school, where being himself was a struggle day in and day out. Love had always been too much to hope for. Physical affection even more so.
"I hate you for doing this to me," Puck said, but Kurt could tell there was not real anger behind the words. "Do you feel what you're doing to me?"
"It's not-" Kurt gasped as Puck realigned his hips, causing his hardness to press intimately against Kurt's backside. "-intentional, I assure you."
"Liar," Puck growled in his ear. Kurt would never admit that Puck growling or that Puck's hands tightening almost painfully at his hips was a turn on.
"I had no intention of doing anything to you," Kurt repeated, blushing when yet another whimper escaped his throat. Puck was grinding against him now and he couldn't help but push back against him. The action made him feel wanton, but he couldn't be sure if that was a bad thing or not at this point. His brain wasn't exactly working properly. "I, uh, must admit that I don't mind the result, though."
"Oh, yeah?" Puck's teeth bit down on the back of Kurt's neck, bringing forth a surprisingly low moan from the smaller boy. "You like that, don't you? Tell me you want more."
"I-" Kurt sucked in a sharp breath when one of Puck's hands slid around to cup him through his skinny jeans. "Oh my God."
"Fuck, Hummel," Puck muttered, releasing him long enough to spin him around. Once again Kurt's back was slammed into the door and he had to distantly wonder why no one had come to investigate all of the noise. That thought immediately vanished when Puck pressed up against him, hips still moving, only this time with both of their groins against one another. Kurt cried out, head falling back, at the intense feeling. Puck once again growled from deep in his throat in response. "Should have been doing this a long time ago, Hummel, instead of throwing you into dumpsters. Fuck, that feels good."
Kurt could hear himself muttering, most likely words of praise or things that indicated the pleasure he was feeling, but his brain wasn't quite paying attention. All he could do was feel. Every nerve ending seemed to be set on fire. His sense of touch escalated until every brush of fabric against his skin as Puck rubbed against him was nearly painful.
He grabbed a hold of Puck's shoulders, fingers digging into the warm muscle found there, as Puck's own hands slid down to grab onto his thighs. Kurt let out a sound of shock, followed by a groan, when Puck lifted him up. He automatically wrapped his legs around Puck's hips, finally allowing himself the privilege to move. If Puck really wanted to do this then there was no way Kurt was going to let him do all the work and feel smug afterward. Not when Kurt knew how to move his hips in ways that he knew would make most men jealous.
Kurt arched his back and, with a twist of his hips, looked down to catch sight of Puck's face. The moan that escaped Puck was low and hinted with shock. Puck looked up, their eyes catching, and grinned. Kurt moved again, easily setting a rhythm as he watched with amazement as Puck's practically fell apart in response.
"Damn it, Kurt, where did you fucking learn this?" Puck demanded, before surging forward and pressing their lips together.
It didn't even click in Kurt's head that this was his first kiss. He was too caught up in the taste of Puck's mouth and the way kissing seemed to amplify everything even more, which should have been impossible. Kurt, much to his own mortification, let out yet another whimper against Puck's mouth, reaching up to cup Puck's face. As they kissed the heat in their movements slowed down. He no longer felt the frantic desire that had taken over his brain. Now, their movements were languid and smooth as their kiss became almost gentle.
"Puck." Kurt paused to clear his throat, tilting his head so Puck had better access to his jaw. "Noah, what are we doing?"
"I'm trying to get off, in case you haven't noticed," Puck replied. "And don't call me Noah."
"You let Rachel call you Noah," Kurt protested.
"Yeah, because she's annoying and it's easier to let her get her way than have to worry about my ears bleeding from the pitch of her voice," Puck said. "Are you going to let me fuck you or not?"
Kurt held back a sputter and released his legs' hold on Puck's waist. He dropped to the floor and straightened his sweater and undershirt. "No, Noah, I'm not going to let you fuck me. I don't even know why I was going along with this. It's not like you actually like me, you're just horny and I'm convenient."
"Maybe," Puck said with a shrug.
"Go find Santana if you're that desperate," Kurt said, his voice deceptively calm. He pushed Puck away from him and turned toward the door. He didn't stop to think about the fact that Puck had gone oddly silent as he left. This entire episode had been a horribly delusional moment that needed to be erased from his mind.
He made it to the nearest bathroom before his body started shaking. He wasn't sure if it was from fear that Puck was now going to terrorize him or the left over feeling of desire that made him want to rush back to that closet and take Puck up on his offer. He rubbed at his face and looked in the mirror, wondering how he managed to get into these messes.
Weekends were both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he got to work at the garage and therefore make money, which greatly supported his fashion fund. A curse, because while Kurt always believed in every moment in life being an opportunity for fashion, he sometimes didn't really see the point if there was no one there to admire him.
Then there was the two hour long cleaning regimen he had to go through after getting out of the garage to ensure the grease and fumes didn't permanently damage his skin and hair. Kurt loved to pamper himself, but he knew even that was a little much. There was such a thing as cleansing ones skin too much, after all, and Kurt would never admit it to anyone else, but he sometimes feared getting dry patches from such abuse.
That in mind, Kurt often spent Sunday afternoons lounging around the house in comfortable yoga pants and a plain white t-shirt. Sometimes he'd watch a movie with his father and sometimes he'd spend the evening dancing in his room before taking a nice, long bubble bath.
This Sunday, however, he found himself reluctantly answering the door. He stared in shock at the figure standing on his porch, before clearing his throat. "Puck, what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to, uh...huh."
Kurt scowled and straightened his shirt, trying to look as composed as he normally did in his designer clothes. "What?"
"Nothing, it's just...you look, uh," Puck stammered.
"I look like what, Noah?" Kurt asked, letting his scowl shift into a glare.
"Normal," Puck mumbled, before peering over Kurt's shoulder. "Your dad isn't here, is he?"
Kurt narrowed his eyes. "That depends on why you're here."
"Seriously, Hummel, just let me inside and don't have your dad murder me," Puck said.
He watched Puck for a minute, mostly just so he could see the other boy squirm, before he let out a long sigh and stepped to the side to allow Puck entry. "Fine, you can come in, but rest assured that while my father isn't here, his rifle is."
"Like you know how to use a rifle," Puck scoffed.
Kurt said nothing, letting the silence grow as Puck started to shift uncomfortably. It was enough to make Puck question his statement. Oh, Puck was correct. Kurt had never been allowed to pick up a gun, let alone use it, but he didn't need Puck to know that. The more afraid Puck was of him, then the easier it would be to avoid getting beat up.
He led Puck into the living room and sat down, gesturing for Puck to do the same. "As much as I enjoy your company, Puck, I'd really like to get back to what I was doing. So, do you think you could hurry this up a little?"
"Will you just shut up?" Puck demanded, though he didn't sound angry. He was slumped back against the sofa, staring at his shoes and looking tired. "This is going to be hard enough as it is without you speaking."
"Fine, go on."
"I...Fuck, I'm sorry, okay?" Puck said. "I don't know what the hell you did to me, but I can't stop thinking about you. I'm sorry about the other day at school. I overstepped a line, I'll admit that, but you just..."
"Alright, stop right there," Kurt cut in. He stood and crossed his arms, inwardly fuming. "I don't care if you're sorry or not. That was a horrible apology. Do you know why? Because you keep putting the blame on me. I haven't done anything."
"Like hell you haven't-"
"No, it's my turn to talk," Kurt snapped. "I don't know what is going on in that idiotic head of yours, though I have a feeling it isn't much. Whatever it is, stop putting the blame on me. Deal with your problems on your time, because I'm sick and tired of having to take part."
Without another word, Kurt stormed away and headed for his basement. He didn't even care if Puck left or stayed or died right where he sat. He was so angry at the other boy. How dare Puck try and make this out to be his fault? Kurt was the innocent bystander here. He could admit that there were times when he had done things that he wasn't proud of. Pretty much his entire attempt at gaining Finn affections was a slightly dark spot on his memory that he hated to think about.
But this? Kurt honestly couldn't recall where he went wrong. Every action had been instigated by Puck, all the way down to them falling asleep on his bed.
Letting out a tired sigh, Kurt turned on some music before climbing onto his bed. He didn't want to deal with this right now. Closing his eyes, Kurt curled up on his side and focused on the steady beat of the music filling his room.
He didn't hear his door open or the fall of footsteps. He did, however, feel the bed dip behind him. His body tensed and he waited, holding his breath, as a warm body pressed up against his. He looked down to see a tanned arm wrap gently around his waist, pulling him in tight against a hard chest. Hot breath hit the back of his ear and he shivered.
"I'm sorry," Puck whispered. "You're right, it's not your fault."
"My dad will kill you if he finds you down here," he pointed out, before twisting slightly in order to look at Puck's face. "What exactly is it that isn't supposed to be my fault, Noah?"
Puck let out a breath and pressed his face momentarily against Kurt's shoulder. "The fact that I like you, more than I should."
"That's all you've got? 'Oh?'" Puck asked.
"It's not like you're asking me to date you or walk down the halls holding hands," Kurt pointed out. "People are allowed to like other people. What counts is what you do with it. So, Noah, what do you plan to do with how you feel?"
"I don't know," Puck replied. "I'm not good at this stuff. I'm good at sex and giving people wedgies, but I'm not good at liking someone. Just look at what happened with Quinn."
"I can't really help you with that," he said. "I don't know what you want from me."
Puck was silent for a long time. Kurt remained in his arms and tried to keep his mind blank. He wanted to make this conversation about himself, but he knew that would be a bad idea. If Puck was feeling things for him that was too difficult for Puck to handle then he knew he shouldn't press the issue. That would only lead to either violence or Puck never speaking to him again. Oddly, Kurt found that he didn't want that. He liked the small moments Puck and him shared.
Finally, Puck spoke in a low voice, as though he was ashamed of what he was admitting. "I want this."
Kurt gave in and rested his hand on top of Puck's against his stomach, taking a moment to enjoy the contrast of their skin. "And what exactly is this to you?"
"Me. You. Together like this," Puck said, his mouth close enough to Kurt's neck that he could feel the other boy's lips move. "I can't do the public thing. I don't know how to do the public thing. If anything, all that will lead to is Santana trying to claw your eyes out. I can do this, though, and I want to."
Kurt swallowed, his mind bouncing around as he absorbed what Puck said. "I refuse to hide who I am."
"I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to hide me."
The words almost broke Kurt's heart. He felt the muscles in his chest tighten and he quickly turned around in Puck's grip, breaking the spooning position that he had found so comfortable. He faced Puck, their eyes meeting, and carefully slipped an arm around Puck's torso so they were now holding one another.
"If we were to do this, I wouldn't be ashamed of you, Noah," Kurt said softly. "I know what it's like to be an outcast, though, and to be hated for something you can't help. I'm not going to shove you onto that road as an ultimatum for being with me. I can wait to be in a public relationship, just as long as I know that you'll work towards being public in the future. Preferably before our senior prom."
"That's over two years away," Puck pointed out. A slight smile appeared on Puck's face, for once not tainted by amusement or smugness. "What makes you think we'd be together that long?"
Kurt couldn't help it, he grinned. "Once you have me, I doubt you'll want to lose me."
Puck chuckled. "Are you so sure of that?"
He didn't answer. The swell of affection he was feeling for Puck at that moment was the only explanation he had for leaning closer and pressing his lips to Puck's in a gentle kiss. He had expected the kiss to immediately turn passionate. Puck didn't seem the type for gentle and loving unless he was getting something more out of it, but Kurt was pleasantly surprised when Puck didn't attempt to deepen the kiss.
Puck's hold on him tightened as their lips pressed together softly. He could feel Puck's hand clutch at his shirt and instead of thinking about wrinkles, he could only admit to feeling arousal at the small motion. Even though it was only a hand clutching his shirt, Kurt felt a sense of possessiveness in the act that was purely Puck, simple and yet obvious. Kurt made a soft sound in the back of his throat and pressed in closer to Puck, reveling in the warmth coming from Puck's body.
Kisses were trailed down his jawline and to his neck, followed by the slight nipping of teeth. He reached up and grabbed Puck's head, forcing him into another kiss, this one deeper and harder. When they had to pull back for air, Kurt buried his face against the curve of Puck's neck, face flushing.
"My dad will be home soon," he said, lips moving against Puck's neck. He felt a shiver run through Puck and smiled.
"Just a little bit longer," Puck replied. "I'm being a fucking sap, but...I don't really want to let go of you yet."
Kurt lifted his head, his smile growing wider. "Then don't."
This is a one shot, so I hope you liked it. There won't be a sequel, sorry.