Badasses Don't Get Nervous
Noah Puckerman was an undeniable badass. As far as the pea-brained vermin crawling around McKinley High were concerned, he was the badass. It was simple: if you valued your life, and possibly the lives of any future children you were hoping to have, then you steered clear of him. Of course, that didn't mean you were free of him, it just meant you could hope that he might find somebody less invisible than you to torment. Puck prided himself on treating everyone equally, so, usually, those hopes were vain. Still, a little hope never hurt anyone. The most important thing to remember was to never cross his path, particularly when he was upset.
And, boy, was Puck upset.
How could he not be? Regionals was less than a week away, and Hummel done gone off to Gay Hogwarts to prance around with those froufrou Gurglers in those God-awful blazers. How was New Directions supposed to win this thing with their countertenor frolicking in the background of some hobbit with enough grease in his hair to slick a road? It was a travesty; at least, he was pretty sure that's what Berry had called it. Whatever it was didn't matter, he decided. What mattered was that Hummel was theirs and now he was attending an all-boys' orgy.
Lawrence Walsh had the misfortune of being a rather dorky new kid who had yet to be warned about Puck. He watched forlornly as his glasses clogged the toilet in the third stall of the boys' bathroom. Lawrence, the poor fool, had not learned his lesson, apparently. Puck raised his eyebrows as the kid sighed and looked him in the eye, albeit unfocusedly.
"I wish I had brought my extra pair. I didn't think the harassment would start so soon." Puck felt his stomach lurch as he glared at the redheaded boy. Harassment; that was the reason Hummel had left in the first place—because of Karofsky and his homophobic actions. Sure, Puck had done his fair share of picking on Kurt, but he didn't do it because he was into dudes—he did it because the kid was a freak. Who in their right mind would show up to school in a corset? "Are you going to shove my head in the toilet again, or can I leave?" Puck gawped at the boy whose name he did not know before storming out of the washroom.
For the rest of that week, Puck had been extra testy. His thoughts kept going back to Kurt, and how he would undoubtedly be swaying behind the fun-sized wonder boy of Douche Bag Academy. How could they put Hummel in the background like some common preppy? Sure, they'd had their rough patches, but Kurt was Puck's boy. No one shoved Puck's boy to the back of the line. Hummel was a fucking fairy. You know what happens to fairies when they don't get applause? They die.
Frankly, Puck didn't understand why Hummel and run off, anyway. Karofsky couldn't take all the Glee guys at once. He hadn't been joking when he offered to form a perimeter around Hummel. He might have also thought of taking the back end so that he watch Hummel's ass all day, but that was moot. Now, the best ass at McKinley was being hidden by those horrible blue blazers. It must have been some sort of crime to do that to an ass as nice as Hummel's. He'd have to look it up.
"Noah, you're shaking." Berry said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. Puck flipped her off briefly before continuing to button up his shirt. She paused as realization flooded her face. "Noah Puckerman, are you nervous?" Puck heaved a sigh and looked at Berry dryly.
"I'm—I'm not nervous. It's the adrenaline. Are you questioning my badassness?" Rachel couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes again.
"I am trying to help you, Puckerman. If you'd rather sweat it out, then fine. If you keep fiddling with those buttons they're going to fall off, though." She said huffily. As a resort to get rid of her, Puck lifted his hands away from his shirt and shooed her. "I swear to God, Noah, if you screw up your solo—" Finn came up behind her, suddenly, and started to drag her away with an awkward laugh.
"Sorry, man. You know how intense she gets."
"Finn, I demand you put me down this instant!" Puck watched them leave and listened to Berry's indignant screeches. Sadly, it did nothing to diffuse his nerves. At least he knew he could terrorize anyone who dared to laugh at him. He flexed his guns and admired them in his reflection. As these things go, someone began to giggle from behind Puck. He turned; ready to pound whoever had the balls to giggle at him. He was surprised to find Hummel standing in the doorway with his eyebrow cocked in amusement. Puck had forgotten his own name.
"Hello, Puckerman." Kurt flounced in without hesitation and plopped himself onto a deserted leather seat. The rest of New Directions was in the other room, practicing some choreography—cough, Finn, cough—and harmonies. "Nervous, huh? I heard you have a big solo." Who was Puckerman—what was this solo Kurt was talking about—why was he wearing the horrible blazer—why was he wearing clothes at all?
"Uh…" Came Puck's brilliant response. Kurt just smiled knowingly. "What are you doing here? Isn't it a little late for spying?" Kurt rolled his eyes—shit, he and Berry were a lot alike—and shook his head.
"I'm not spying, Noah. I was going to wish you good luck, because I know this is your first competition solo. Also, if you keep doing that to the buttons, they'll pop off." Puck heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand over his mohawk. Were Berry and Hummel sharing a brain or something? To prove how idiotic they were being, Puck paid Kurt's warning no heed and continued twisting a button on his shirt. He groaned as, true to Kurt's warning, it popped off. "Told you so." Kurt said smugly, leaning back into the seat, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
"Fuck. Berry's gonna throw a hissy fit." Puck turned the button over in his hand, hating the stupid piece of plastic. Kurt sighed and walked over to him, holding out his hand expectantly. "What?"
"The button, Noah. Give it to me." Puck pretended not to hear that last bit. His thoughts were still wandering to the fact that he was seeing Kurt for the first time in a while and how those pants were way too baggy for Hummel's usual style—that being jeans that were like a second skin that showed off every curve of Hummel's body. Damn, he was losing it. He watched as Kurt pulled a small box from his pocket—a sewing kit, Puck soon realized. Swiftly and expertly, Kurt began to sew the button back on.
"You carry a sewing kit around with you?" Kurt glared at him from under his eyelashes briefly before bringing his attention back to the button.
"You never know when a button will come loose. That's why I hand-sew all the buttons onto the clothes I buy. I don't trust the manufacturers to do a thorough job." He grinned and leaned away from Puck, gesturing to the button, now sewed firmly back into place. What happened next, Puck swore, was because of the nerves. He could hardly believe it had even happened, but he knew it would not go without consequence.
"God, Hummel. You're such a fag." Kurt froze, his smile slipping from his face instantly. For a second, Puck thought he might cry. Still, even with that thought, he felt nothing other than the knots tying in his stomach. Kurt's expression turned cold and hard quickly, not that Puck cared. What he cared about, was the fact that the button Kurt had just sewed back on was now flying out the open window. "What the fuck, man?" Puck shouted, to the shock of the rest of the New Direction, who began to pour into the small room to see what the commotion was about.
"Good luck, all of you. I'll be cheering for you." Kurt said with sugar-coated smile. He sneered at Puck on his way out. "Goodbye, Puckerman." Puck didn't even take satisfaction in watching his sweet behind leave the room. He was too busy holding back the vomit.
"Oh, hell no. If you're going to toss your cookies, then don't do it in here!" Mercedes shouted before shoving him out the door, the same way Kurt had gone. Bitch, Puck thought to himself, though he wasn't sure if he was referring to Mercedes or Kurt. He looked down at his shirt, hoping to get distracted from his nerves. It worked, Puck noted proudly. However, now he was thinking about Kurt's stupid pouty face and how the two had actually been acting like friends until his massive brain fart.
He was a badass, not an asshole. Actually, he could be an asshole, too, but he could be decent when he wanted. Especially since he had deemed Hummel his boy. Not even a badass as hardcore as Puck could get away with getting down on his boy like that; besides that, Kurt had been doing him a favour. With a groan of defeat, Puck pulled out his phone and started to write a message to Kurt. He could be cowardly for once in his life; no one would have to find out.
The blank screen blared at him mockingly. He was insulting his own badassness. He would have to kick his own ass, and that would be as weird as it would be painful. His only option was to get off his ass and apologize to Hummel. Damn, he had turned into such a nice guy.
"Kurt, I think one of them followed you..." Puck resisted the urge to punch the blond boy in the face for talking about him like he was a stray dog. Injuring one of the Wobblers probably wouldn't help his case very much with Hummel. "Kurt, he's growling at me!" Puck grinned in self-satisfaction as the boy scurried off. He heard groan from inside the room before an annoyed-looking Kurt was standing in front of him.
"Do you have any reason—other than terrorizing Jeffrey—for being here?" Puck was trying to make amends, he hadn't forgotten than, but, fuck, Hummel was such a prissy little bitch. "Um, hello? Earth to Puck." Kurt snapped in Puck's face, bringing him out of his thoughts.
"Don't call me that." Puck snapped. Alright, so maybe the nerves put him on edge; that was understandable. Unfortunately, Princess Hummel didn't seem to agree with that.
"Oh, I'm sorry. How dare I speak the name of such a worldly stud? How could I even think to speak the name of such a chauvinistic, disgusting, womanizing cad like you? How dare I—"
"God damn, Hummel, if I knew you would go off like this I wouldn't have come over here to apologize to you!" Kurt stopped shooting off insults and stared up at Puck with a gaping mouth. After a few seconds of silent staring, Puck shifted uncomfortably. "Close your mouth or your Garblers will start to realize you have a whore mouth." Kurt shut his mouth and glared at Puck briefly.
"You were going to apologize to me?" Puck half-shrugged at Kurt, so to keep his cool. Can't get too mushy, ever, no matter how fine Hummel's ass was. "And what is a whore mouth?" Kurt asked recoiling from Puck in mild offense. Puck heaved a sigh and ran his hand over his Mohawk again. How was it that Hummel—the most flaming of homosexuals—could not understand something as simple as "whore mouth". Puck ignored the question.
"Yeah, I came here to apologize; I was stupid for saying that to you. You were trying to help me out. I'm not a complete asshole, I know it wasn't cool. The nerves just...get to me, you know?" Kurt leaned on one leg with his hand resting against his jutted hip. Puck tried not to smirk at the girly—and flirty, he would argue—posture. "So...that's it." He turned to leave, but moments later, Hummel's hand was wrapped around his forearm, keeping him there.
"You haven't told me why I'm not allowed to call you Puck. What, is it a special privilege? I'm pretty sure that's your name." Kurt said dryly. If Kurt knew Puck saw straight through his bitch-of-the-iceberg act, he didn't show it. It wasn't difficult to see if you knew what to look for, Puck noted. Like the way Hummel's movements were suddenly more timid and his cheeks were pinker than usual. It was a dead giveaway that Puck had made some improvements here.
"Because I treated you like shit." Puck found his mouth spewing without his consent. Kurt looked shocked at first, until he realized that Puck was embarrassed. Then he started to giggle. Puck wondered vaguely if it was fair, like, scientifically, for Hummel to be so adorable and so fuckable at the same time. "Uh...I just meant..." Puck stood in silence, feeling like an idiot. What kind of stud let himself be reduced to a babbling fool by a fairy? It was downright shameful.
"Kurt!" Someone called from inside the room. Startled, Kurt turned and called back a "just a second!" before giving his attention back to Puck.
"Well, that's all I wanted to say. See ya, Hummel." Puck gave him a half-wave, contemplating whether or not Kurt would slap him silly if he tried to give his butt a small tap for good luck. He decided against it. Hummel had one hell of a powerful kick.
"Right." Kurt chewed on his lip thoughtfully for a moment before taking Puck by the shoulders and pressing a kiss against his cheek. "Good luck, Noah." Puck stared after Kurt with his jaw dropped and eyes halfway out of their sockets. The shock, he admits proudly, did not stop him from trying to scope out Hummel's ass as he moved to walk away.
"Hummel, do the world a favour and buy some pants that fit." Kurt raised an eyebrow at Puck questioningly.
"Noah, what on earth are you—" Puck rolled his eyes, fed up with Kurt's constant yapping. The boy had an incredible mouth—why not put it to good use? Puck ceased him by the collar of that horribly shapeless blazer and lifted him to meet his lips. Puck smirked as his stud status came back into effect. Hummel was kissing him back enthusiastically, wrapping his thin arms around Puck's shoulders. Kurt yelped and jumped away, however, when Puck sharply pinched his bottom.
"For good luck." Puck said to him with a seductive wink because heading back to New Directions. Halfway there, he received a text message.
You are so taking me out tonight. Pick me up at seven.
Puck smirked to himself and quickly typed back his reply.
Sure thing, Princess.
He swore he could hear the indignant shout echoing down the hall.
A/N: blah. Okay so I had a brain fart while surfing Tumblr last night and had to write this. I know it kind of sucks and lacks plot completely but, hey, I wrote it, might as well share it. If nothing else, you can laugh at how ridiculous it is that I actually spent time writing this pointlessness.
Well, thanks for reading! C: