30 Days of Puck/Kurt
Day 1: Squeaky Clean
Since they'd moved in together a few years ago, it had become a ritual to clean on Sunday mornings.
Kurt would wake up early and start scrubbing the apartment with various chemicals.
Puck would wake up later and escape the apartment until later in the afternoon.
And while Kurt didn't particularly like this arrangement, Puck knew he preferred it. After all, Puck's idea of clean was not the same as Kurt's. So normally, they would stay out of one another's way until the cleaning was done.
It was just safer for the both of them.
This morning though, when Puck jumped in the shower, Kurt broke with tradition.
As Puck scrubbed his head, he saw Kurt through the frosted glass, Windex bottle in hand. Puck watched as he wiped down the counter and then the mirror. Before he walked out of the room though, Kurt turned towards the shower.
Even though his outline was wavy in the glass, Puck could tell from his posture that he was watching him. Not only that, but he knew that Kurt had been staring at him. Frozen under the hot water, suds slipping down his neck, Puck watched as Kurt sauntered forward. And very deliberately, Kurt pressed his lips to the shower door, the kiss making an imprint on the glass.
Before Kurt had a chance to pull away, Puck reached out and placed his fingers against the spot where Kurt's lips were. It was stupid; he couldn't feel anything but a shower-soaked wall.
But as Kurt used the Windex-covered cloth to wipe the smudge away, Puck thought that maybe he'd break with tradition and stay home today after all.
(Written for raving_liberal. Prompt: Windex)
Day 2:Ride Home
Kurt didn't know why Puck had run away. (Neither did anyone else for that matter.) He also didn't know why, a week later, Puck texted him, asking him to come pick him up.
They'd become friends, sure. Well, perhaps not friends, but they were comfortable enough with each other. However, even though they'd development some sort of ease between them, the text had still come as a shock.
But he'd gone to get Puck anyway.
He'd hopped on the bus (he didn't know how to get to the Podunk town Puck was in) and taken the four-hour ride, all the while texting with Puck.
Their conversation was simple, to the point. Puck had asked Kurt not to tell his mom, and Kurt had agreed. And Kurt had asked Puck if he was ok. But that was it. Somehow though, just knowing that Puck was at the other end, texting with him, made Kurt feel better about the situation. Which was odd; Kurt hadn't even known he was upset until he felt himself calm down.
And once he reached the bus stop, he didn't even have a chance to climb off before Puck had appeared. He'd pushed his way through the crowd and plopped down on the seat next to him. Neither of them spoke, not even to say hello. The moment had been too tense, too charged for Kurt to speak, and Puck had looked grateful for that.
After about a half-hour, Puck began to doze off, his head drooping forward a little. Kurt knew Puck couldn't be comfortable, but he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to risk waking him up – the camaraderie they'd developed seemed too fragile.
So Kurt looked out the window and ignored him. He knew Puck would have a stiff neck when he woke, and he felt bad about that, but there was nothing he could do.
A few minutes later, Kurt felt Puck shifting on the seat next him. Wondering if he'd woken up, Kurt went to turn toward him. Before he could though, Puck's head fell on his shoulder. He was fast asleep.
At first, Kurt was terrified. Up till now, their contact was minimal. But as Puck slept, his face relaxed, Kurt felt himself sink down into the seat with him. The weight on his shoulder felt natural, easy, and he loved it.
Sighing deeply, Kurt decided to just go for the ride.
(Written for patchfire. Prompt: Bus)
Kurt's nimble fingers worked over the pomegranate, peeling away the skin. As Puck watched him work, he couldn't help but think of how easily the peel came off the fruit. It was like it wanted to be touched, to be worked over by Kurt's steady hands.
And Puck couldn't blame it. He'd been there, under those fingertips, shivering as they trailed down his chest and circled his bellybutton. He'd been there as Kurt hands wrapped around his waist and pulled him impossibly closer in the dark of night.
But still, he envied the fruit.
Envied it getting its layers stripped away by Kurt in the broad daylight.
That would never be him, could never be him. Because what they had was hidden by a cloak of darkness, destined to never be warmed by the sun.
With half of the peel gone, Puck watched Kurt hungrily as his steady fingers worked over the tiny pieces of fruit inside. Blood red and shaped like little jewels, they sparkled in the cafeteria light, reminding him of what he'd never have. And he hated them for it. He hated that they could be touched in public when he couldn't.
Hated that Kurt's fingertips moved over them, loosening them from their filmy barrier when he could only sit and watch.
But when Kurt raised juice-stained fingers to his lips to eat a few of the pieces, his eyes met Puck's. And Puck knew that while those fingers weren't his now, they would be tonight.
(Written for patchfire. Prompt: Pomegranate)
Day 4:Hear You Me
"Dude, what are you listening to?" Puck leaned over to Kurt, and Kurt felt himself tense fractionally.
"First of all, do not call me dude. It's far too plebian." Kurt spared a glance at Puck as he pulled one of the ear buds from his ear. "Secondly, it is a travesty that you have such poor taste in music. Here." He offered Puck the tiny piece but kept the other in his own ear. "Listen and learn."
As Puck scooted his chair over and took the proffered ear bud, Kurt rolled his eyes. He didn't know why Puck cared at all. Sure, they'd become friends. Sort of. But Puck was still Puck, and Kurt was still himself. They didn't listen to music together, and they certainly didn't share ear buds casually.
"Whatever." Grabbing the wire out of Kurt's hand, Puck smirked. And rather than say anything, Kurt just rolled his eyes, knowing that that was the best he was going to get. When he didn't speak, Puck laughed at him as he shoved the piece into his ear.
When handing Puck the tiny piece, he'd expect him to stretch the cord out as far as possible between them. But instead, he'd looped it under his chin, bringing them so close together that their cheeks brushed lightly.
Kurt froze at their sudden closeness, waiting for Puck to react. But much to Kurt's surprise, he didn't. He just sat there, listening to the music, apparently unaware of how their ears kept brushing together.
The touches were faint, barely there really, but they'd slowly begun to soothe him. And after a few minutes, Kurt felt himself begin to relax so much that he even enjoyed the gentle touches.
Just as Kurt settled in though, Puck inclined his head to Kurt slightly and said. "This is music?"
Irritated, Kurt yanked the ear bud out of Puck's ear and shoved it back into his own.
* The title is taken from the Weezer song "Mykel and Carli."
(Written for patchfire. Prompt: Eadbuds)
"Owwww!" Kurt hissed in pain, pulling his foot back as he did.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Puck held his hands up in mock surrender. Very carefully, he reached out for Kurt's foot again, trying to be as gentle as possible.
Kurt tentatively lowered his leg, giving Puck a reproachful look.
"I said I was sorry." Mumbling his apology, Puck wrapped his hands around Kurt's foot, making sure to avoid his ankle. He began to work his fingers of Kurt's metatarsals, taking care to get each one.
That afternoon, Kurt had twisted his ankle in rehearsal. According to the show's medic, it wasn't sprained, but it was still very tender and would need rest. He'd called Puck at work upset and wanting Puck to come take him home. And of course, that meant that he wanted Puck to take care of him. So Puck had dropped everything and run to the theatre to pick up his boyfriend.
Now Kurt was stretched out on the couch, a couple of Advil coursing through his system and a pillow under his legs. A few minutes ago, Puck had sat down at the other end and offered to rub his feet. Things had been going fine until Puck accidently hit Kurt's injured ankle.
"I knew this was a bad idea." Puck watched as Kurt pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. He continued to rub the balls of Kurt's foot gently. "I should have gone to the chiropractor. They have massage tables and -"
"We could have a massage table here…." Running his thumb over Kurt's arch suggestively, Puck titled his head towards the kitchen table.
Kurt stopped in the middle of his complaints shooting Puck a dirty look.
Puck shrugged his shoulders. "What? You told me you wanted to take care of you tonight." Once again, Puck slid his thumb over Kurt's instep. Honestly, he didn't expect anything to come of his suggestion, but he couldn't help make the joke.
"I did not mean like that." Kurt scowled at Puck, but Puck noticed that he didn't object. "Keep rubbing."
(Written for casatthedisco. Prompt: Massage Table)
Day 6:Soap Suds
The fight had been… stupid.
To say the least.
Not long ago, Kurt had gotten a phone call from his dad saying that Carole was having a biopsy on Tuesday. The news that his step-mother might have cancer had reminded Kurt of his mother's own battle with the disease. And in one instant, it was like he was six years old again, dealing with chemo and radiation and the ever lingering presence of death. That moment had been so awful that it had taken everything Kurt had possessed not to run to the bathroom and throw up. His dad had tried to reassure him, but it had been of little use.
A little while after hanging up the phone, Puck had walked into the apartment. Without a hello or a kiss on the cheek or anything, he'd asked if Kurt wanted to order a pizza for dinner.
And Kurt had snapped. He'd screamed and yelled, hurling insults at his boyfriend, because that was easier than crying. That was easier than giving into the fear that was eating him up inside. He'd been awful to his boyfriend simply because he couldn't deal with the pain and memories of his mother's death.
Now he was in the shower, a cascade of hot water beating down on him, and he felt numb.
Not to mention… alone.
He'd screwed up, of that he was certain. Worse yet, Kurt didn't even know how to apologize without having to explain everything. He'd told Puck about his mom's death before, but he'd kept the worst of it to himself rather than dredge up those terrible months. Puck, thankfully, had understood and hadn't pressed for details.
Lost in his memories, Kurt didn't realize that Puck had entered into the shower stall until he felt Puck's hands slide into his hair. Not saying anything, Puck began to work his fingers over Kurt's scalp, massaging gently. And despite everything, he wondered if Puck had used the right shampoo. It was such a random thought that Kurt felt momentarily guilty.
Or really… guiltier.
As Puck continued to work, the coconut-scented suds began to run down his back. Kurt wanted to say something to Puck, but words wouldn't come. His mouth seemed to be sealed shut.
"Your dad just called." It was all there, in Puck's voice. It was obvious that Puck knew what was going on, that he understood Kurt's earlier outburst. And it was clear that he didn't hold it against him, which Kurt couldn't help but think that he should have. He'd been terrible to him. If Puck had acted that way to him, Kurt wouldn't have been so quick to forgive. He didn't have it in him. "I'm sorry about Carol."
The tears that had refused to fall earlier came hot and fast, mingling with the shower's unrelenting downpour. Puck continued to work through his hair, long after the shampoo had all run out of it.
Neither one of them said another word.
(Written for casastthedisco. Prompt: Shampoo)
Puck held the stuffed rabbit, its fake fur soft under his fingertips. It was white with black spots, just like his sister's had been. The only difference between the two, really, was that hers was real and this was filled with some kind of fluff.
"Hmmm, according to the registry…." Kurt stopped next to Puck, a long strip of paper that looked like a receipt in his hands. "What's that?"
"A rabbit." Puck held up the stuffed animal and waved it like that should have been obvious.
Kurt gave him his best, you're-trying-my-patience look. "I can see that." His expression softened. "But why are you holding it? I thought we were going to pick something off your sister's registry? Because if you've changed your mind about sticking to the list, I saw a stunning Prada bassinet in my boss' office..." His voice trailed off wistfully, and Puck snorted. He knew that Kurt's thoughts had turned to the high-end fashions he dealt with at work.
"My sister had a rabbit that looked like this when she was little." He looked down at the toy in his hands, thinking back to his childhood. "She named it Flopsy." He smiled at the memory. "Stupid name."
"Awwww…." Kurt cooed as he reached out stroked the rabbit's ears. "Your little sister is having a baby, and you're feel nostalgic."
"Am not." Puck grumbled and threw the stuffed rabbit on the shelf.
Truth was, he was pretty weird-ed out about his kid sister having a baby. And shopping for a shower gift was doing nothing to soothe that. Looking around at all of the pastel-colored clothes and blankets and whatever else made him feel… not old, because he didn't feel old. But it did make him feel grown up. Somehow his sister being big enough to get married and have a kid made him feel more like an adult that anything else had. It was weird.
Next to him, Kurt laughed softly but didn't say anything else. Instead, he wrapped his arm through Puck's and looked back down at the list.
"I hated that rabbit." Puck led Kurt away from the stuffed animals, trying not to think about his sister as a mother. "Used to call it Hitler when my mom wasn't around." When Kurt gave him a confused look, Puck pointed at his face. "He had a black spot under his nose. Like a mustache."
In response, Kurt rolled his eyes and dragged them towards the cribs.
*Hitler the Rabbit is an homage to 's Hitler in the House/Cuddy fic "Edge of Chaos".
(Written for casatthedisco. Prompt: Rabbit)
Day 8:Losing Control
Kurt drew in a shuddering breath, cursing himself for his nerves. He wished that he could be calm, that he could be collected. But the longer Puck's lips hovered over his throat, the more he began to shake.
And as Puck chuckled, Kurt could feel his breath, hot and moist, ghosting over his throat. Biting back the embarrassment that was consuming him, Kurt refused to gasp. Kurt knew that Puck knew he had him. It was obvious in the way he kept his mouth from making contact with his skin, the way he kept his lips so close to his skin yet so far.
And when Puck sighed, the rumble deep in his throat, Kurt pressed his lips together to keep quiet. As it was, it was bad enough that Puck had made him tremble just by pulling their bodies together, by teasing a kiss that would probably never come.
Kurt wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of letting him know he was completely losing control.
(Written for lillian_raven. Prompt: Neck)
Day 9:Business Opportunity
"Just pick something!" Kurt hissed, and Puck laughed. "Keep it up, mister. One more laugh and I'm not going. It's bad enough that I agreed to this in the first place. But to let you -"
"This looks good." Puck had pulled a truly hideous orange, green, and yellow velvet shirt out of the rack and held it up to Kurt's chest. It was awful, but it was perfect.
In response, Kurt gasped so loud that the people nearby turned to look at him. When they began to whisper, Kurt snatched the shirt out of Puck's grasp. "You have got to be kidding me." The words came out sounding halted, like each one was an individual sentence.
"Babe, you promised." Flipping through the shirts some more, Puck batted his eyes innocently before blowing Kurt a kiss. "Whoa, check this…."
"I am not wearing this, Noah Puckerman. I have taste. I have standards." Kurt waved the offending shirt at Puck in irritation.
"Yes, you are." Puck pulled out the chartreuse and orange silk shirt he'd just spied. "This is perfect."
Again, Kurt gasped. "You cannot wear that." He reached out to snatch the shirt from Puck's grasp, but Puck kept it away from him. "T-shirts are… acceptable. And I even put up with your ratty old flannels. But that is absolutely out of the question."
Still making sure to keep the shirt out of Kurt's grasp, Puck leaned on the rack and studied his boyfriend. "Dude, you are taking all of the fun out of this."
"I do not see what is so fun about purposely bad fashion. This is worse than some of the stuff Mr. Schuester made us wear." Kurt gave the velvet shirt a scathing look. "And we have talked about the D word."
"Look…." Puck sighed, and this time it was his turn to roll his eyes. "I know the clothes are awful, ok. But this is a great opportunity for me. I heard that if you make a good showing at the Halloween party, the boss will take you more seriously." Kurt looked at him like he was crazy. "I guess he's obsessed with Halloween or something. Either way, this is a career thing." Across from him, Kurt's shoulders slumped a little, and Puck knew that he was softening. "And I go to your stuff at the magazine. I even wear whatever you pick out without complaining.
"That's because you know you look good in it." Kurt's voice was defiant but quiet.
"No. It's because I love you and don't want to screw things up for you." Puck considered shoving the shirt back with all the others. When he'd heard that the Halloween party would have a 1970s theme, he'd been excited. But now, he didn't really care.
"I…." Kurt pressed his lips together, and Puck could practically hear his brain working. "I'm sorry. Whatever you want, it's fine." He reached out and felt the silk shirt in Puck's grasp. "At least it feels like real silk." He tried to smile. "I guess this could be fun. After all, the 70s was a very interesting period in fashion.
Puck nodded and tried to smile, wondering what he'd just gotten himself into.
(Written for lillian_raven. Prompt: Velvet and silk)
Day 10:Read Me
Kurt swallowed deeply, unsure of what to say. There was just… so much, so much that needed to be said. But Puck had rendered him, for the first time, speechless.
Just a few moments ago, Puck had placed his palms on Kurt's face, gently cupping his cheeks. The touch hadn't been all that surprising; that wasn't the first time that Puck had pulled him close like that. But normally, whenever Puck held him like that, it was to tilt his head up for a kiss.
This time though….
This time Puck had held onto him, his thumbs stroking gently over Kurt's cheekbones. And rather than kiss him, he'd said, "I love you." It had come out as a whisper, like he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. But Kurt had heard him loud and clear.
Now Puck was staring at him, his eyes wide and unsure.
And Kurt didn't know what to say.
Not because he didn't feel the same way, because he really did. But because there didn't seem to be words that could really express how he felt. Anything he came up with felt inadequate.
So rather than speak, Kurt leaned forward and pressed his lips against Puck's. He poured all of his love, trust, and emotion into the kiss, praying that Puck would be able to read him like a book.
(Written for lillian_raven. Prompt: Book)
Day 11:Mind Your Manners
Puck ran his finger over the colorful foil, looking for a corner that he could peel up. They all had one. It was just a matter of finding it. And if he didn't, he could always just use his keys to get past the wrapper. Puck had yet to meet a Cadbury Crème Egg that he couldn't get open.
"Ha. Gotcha." Feeling triumphant, Puck tore the thin wrapping, exposing the treat within. When the chocolaty egg was finally free of its foil bonds, he stared at it for a second. He'd always loved them; ever since he was little, they'd been a favorite. The layer of chocolate on the outside, the liquid-y crème inside… it was just so… good.
Stuffing the foil in his pocket, Puck smiled in anticipation before popping the piece of candy into his mouth.
When he was twelve, Finn had dared him to stick a whole one his mouth, thinking that that was some big feat. Which, obviously, it wasn't. Cause really, those things weren't all that big. It was the first time Puck had tried doing it though.
At first, the egg had felt huge in his mouth, but after a chomp and an explosion of creamy goodness, he was sold. And he hadn't eaten a Cadbury Crème Egg differently since. (What was the point when you could experience the Cadbury awesomeness like that?)
He was just about to bite down when he heard Kurt say, "That is disgusting, Puckerman."
"Wha -" Mouth hanging open, he turned to look at Kurt.
"You just shoved that whole thing in your mouth." Kurt eyed his mouth, like he could barely believe it.
Shoving the (still whole) egg to the side of his mouth, Puck mumbled around the candy. "So. Is' good."
"Well, it looks awful. Seriously, don't you have any manners?" Reaching up, Kurt brushed his hair out of his eyes haughtily.
Manners? Yeah, he had manners. His mom had made sure he learned to open doors, pull out chairs and….
Puck spit the egg into his palm. It was a little melted and covered into saliva, and he held it out to Kurt. "Course I have manners. Wanna share?" He beamed widely at Kurt. "We can split it!"
Kurt's mouth fell open in horror. "I would rather wear a cotton-poly blend than touch that after it's been in your mouth, Puckerman."
"I was just trying to be polite. You know… manners and all." He smirked at Kurt's expression before popping the egg back in his mouth and biting down. When he saw that Kurt was still watching him, a scandalized look on his face, Puck smirked. And before Kurt could look away, Puck licked all of the chocolate and spit off his palm.
When Kurt made a disgusted noise before walking away, Puck laughed to himself. Alone once again, he finally finished his egg.
They really were his favorite.
(Written for raving_liberal. Prompt: Cadbury Crème Egg)
Day 12:Better than Holding Hands
Kurt knew that Puck had never been a fan of holding hands. And the more Kurt thought about it, the more he realized just how true that was. He couldn't recall ever seeing his boyfriend holding Santana's claw or Quinn's dainty digits. He couldn't even remember seeing Puck clutching Lauren's hand.
But that didn't mean he liked it.
In fact, Kurt hated the fact that Puck didn't want to hold hands with him. And more than once he'd started an argument over it.
Deep down, he knew it was a petty thing to throw a fit about, but Kurt couldn't help it. He'd always been a romantic, and he'd spent his life dreaming of the small things, the seemingly insignificant gestures.
So Kurt couldn't help but feel hurt whenever Puck would shrug his hand away from his.
Really though, who wouldn't?
Sitting in the cafeteria, surrounded by happy couples, Kurt couldn't help but feel jealous. Next to him, Tina was sharing Eskimo kisses with Mike, and Brittany and Santana had their pinkies entwined together. When he looked back at Puck, who was sitting across from him, he was surprised to see a look of deep concentration on his face.
Instantly, Kurt felt his face flush, because he'd been caught. It was obvious that Puck knew what he was thinking about. And while Kurt thought that maybeif he were to lay his hand on the table, Puck might take it, Kurt didn't put his hand on the table. Because if Puck didn't take his hand, Kurt knew how badly it would hurt. So instead, he dropped his gaze to the wilted salad in front of him.
It was as he was staring at a crouton that was starting to turn to mush that Kurt felt it. Underneath the table, Puck's kneeing was pressing gently into his. At first, he thought that Puck had bumped him accidentally. But when Puck didn't pull his leg back, Kurt looked up from his lunch.
Puck was staring at him, a sly smile on his face. For a moment, Kurt just looked at him, hardly believing what he was feeling.
That wasn't to say that Puck wasn't affectionate, but this was… well it wasn't holding hands. But as Kurt pressed his knee against Puck's, he knew it was theirs.
(Written for firefox1490. Prompt: Knees)
Day 13:Holding On Until Morning
Puck rolled over onto his side, sleep still lingering deep within his bones. For the past week his dreams had been plagued with the memories of what he'd seen at work. It had been his first day of field training as an EMT. And though the people he'd been riding with had told him that serious emergencies were rare in the area, they'd been called to a horrible accident.
A five car pile-up of twisted metal and burning rubber.
Broken glass that littered the street in a mockery of crystals.
Children calling out for their mothers, some of whom would never be answered again.
Dead eyes staring out of car windows as EMT's rushed around looking for victims who were still hanging on.
And blood. Lots and lots of blood that stained the pavement making it slick and sticky.
At the time, Puck had been shocked, but he'd also been able to do his job. He'd jumped in and did whatever he'd been instructed. The trainers had taken the near death cases, but Puck had done his part administering CPR and bandaging wounds. He'd even helped a little girl out of one of the less mangled cars.
By the time everyone had been taken care of, Puck had been exhausted but proud of himself.
But when he'd gone to bed that night, he'd had horrible nightmares of the accident. Everything that he'd seen had come rushing back full force complete with smells of burning flesh and screeching cries.
He'd woken up drenched in sweat with Kurt shaking him, tears pouring down both their faces.
Without a word, Kurt had pulled him into his arms and held him for the rest of the night.
Neither had ended up going back to sleep.
The next night had been tense, but they'd both ended up drifting off. This time though, Puck had awoken before he started yelling or thrashing, and Kurt had stayed asleep.
For a long time Puck thought about waking his boyfriend. But in the end he'd decided to let Kurt sleep, choosing to wrap his arms around him instead.
Every night since had been the same, and tonight was no exception.
Reaching out, Puck slid his hand over Kurt's hip and pulled him back so that they were pressed together. Lying behind Kurt, Puck folded his legs so his knees fit right behind Kurt's. Their hips fit together perfectly. And with his chest pressed against Kurt's back, he could feel the slow, steady beating of Kurt's heart, slowing and calming his own.
Holding onto Kurt's hip like his life depended on it, Puck buried face in Kurt's neck. He inhaled Kurt's scent deeply, focusing on it. He smelled of something fruity, most likely body wash and fabric softener and something that could only be described as Kurt.
Very slowly, Puck felt himself drifting back to sleep. His breathing was deeper, and he could feel his hand slipping off of Kurt's hip. But every time he did, he would squeeze once more. He was determined not to let go before morning came.
(Written for firefox1490. Prompt: Hip)
It had all started with a bottle of clear nail polish. Well, ok… not technically clear. The polish was clear, but it was filled with miniscule bits of iridescent glitter.
Now, normally Kurt wouldn't wear nail polish with glitter. Honestly, the only reason he wore clear was because it was part of his mani/pedi regime. But he'd seen the bottle glittering on Carol's dresser the other day, and… he'd hadn't been able to resist.
He'd rationalized the polish as a way to add some extra sparkle to his next solo.
After all, a little extra pizazz never hurt anyone.
Well… Turned out, it did.
On Saturday night Kurt had plopped down in front of the TV in the family room to watch a marathon of "Say Yes to the Dress." Normally when he touched up his nails, he would do it in the bathroom. (Nail polish was very difficult to get out of bed spreads.) But since no one was home, he'd thought he'd make an evening of it, complete with Diet Coke and a bowl of (light butter) popcorn.
However, one coat in, Finn had walked in the front door, Puck trailing behind him.
Which would have been fine; after all, it wasn't out of the ordinary for Finn to have friends over to play video games. But as Finn had walked into the kitchen to grab them some chips, Puck walked over by Kurt.
He'd noticed the glittery nail polish almost instantly, his face lighting up deviously.
It was all Kurt had heard about for the week.
But on Thursday he'd overheard Finn and Puck discussing an all-night X-Box tournament on the weekend. So after school, he'd stopped by the drugstore to do a little recon. Ten minutes later, a small bag in hand, Kurt walked out of the store plotting his revenge.
When Saturday rolled around, Kurt was prepared.
Just as he thought, Finn and Puck's all-nighter had ended around three thirty. And while Kurt knew his skin would suffer for it, he also knew it was worth it. He crept into the living room, still fully lit with the TV running. He found Finn and Puck passed out on the couch, their bare feet on the table, game controllers still in hand.
Smirking, Kurt pulled a bottle of bright purple, glittery nail polish out of the pocket of his robe. After giving it a little shake, he unscrewed the cap and crouched down next to Puck's (nasty) feet. And as he carefully stroked the brush over the nail of Puck's big toe, Kurt decided that he was right. A little sparkle never hurt anyone.
(Written for firefox1490. Prompt: Big toe.)
Day 15:Electronic Symphony
Puck's forehead was pressed against the window, the cool glass a comfort to his shattered nerves.
He'd been sitting like that for… he didn't even know how long. But in the time since pressing his warm skin against the glass, it had begun to pour. The window was drenched, the drops making paths that look like tears on the pane. And though he knew it was silly, he couldn't help but think of his mom and how whenever it rained, she would say that it was because God was crying.
It had been years since he'd thought about that. But somehow it had comforted him them. Whether that has to do with memories of his mother comforting him or his Jewish faith, he didn't know. Nor did he really care.
All that mattered then was that he was alone.
Kurt was still unconscious, the machines beeping and clicking away in some strange symphony.
And Puck knew he should be happy that those machines were still making noise, still ticking away. Because silence…
Silence would mean death.
At least this way, there was still a chance. Each little beep let Puck know that Kurt was still alive, that he was still fighting.
That the disease hadn't gotten him yet.
That there's still a chance that Kurt will pull through.
But as the rain continued to slide down the window, Puck wondered just how long the cacophony of sound would continue.
(Written for lil_miss_choc. Prompt: Rain-drenched window)
Even as he stood out in the hot sun, a wash bucket and sponge at his feet, Kurt could hardly believe that the glee club was doing this again.
After all, it wasn't like the first car wash had gone over that well. Sure, they'd earned enough to hire that ridiculous excuse of a choreographer but still. All he had ended up with was a ruined shirt and a busted window. (He still couldn't believe that Mercedes had done that.)
But despite all of that… here they were, the girls in skimpy suits and shorts, and the boys…
Well most of them were shirtless.
Kurt, however, refused to remove his top. It wasn't that he was embarrassed or anything like that. He knew that even though he wasn't bulky like the rest of the boys, he was still fit. His body was long and lean, a sculpted dancer's body that most girls would envy. But his fair skin out in the hot sun only meant one thing:
And Kurt was not about to fry his milky white behind just so the glee club could buy new vests. (Or whatever new thing Schue had come up with. Knowing him, it was probably so that he could buy each member of the club Journey's entire collection on vinyl.)
So rather than strip down like the rest of the boys, Kurt had opted for white cropped jeans and a thin light blue t-shirt. It wasn't nearly chic enough, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. Now all he had to deal with was his bare arms, calves and face, and he had an organic suntan lotion in 90 SPF that should do the trick. (And for what he'd paid for it, it better.)
Popping open the bronze-colored bottle, Kurt squirted some of the lotion into his palm. It was white and smelled like mint. According to the bottle, the mint was supposed to help cool the skin. Kurt could only hope that that was true.
Kurt started with his arms, making sure to leave no skin unprotected. He was just about to start on his legs when Puck came running towards the group, yelling something about being late. Up till then, Kurt hadn't even realized Puck wasn't there. He'd just assumed that he was with Lauren, wiping her back down with sun block.
But apparently, Kurt had been wrong.
Still, as he was rubbing the lotion into his arms, Kurt's eyes fell on Puck as he whipped off his t-shirt and tossed it under a tree. Puck, unsurprisingly, was in great shape. And Kurt found himself wondering if Blaine would look as good without a t-shirt on. Deep down, a traitorous voice said "no. Most likely not." After all, while Blaine liked watching sports, he didn't really play them. (As far as Kurt knew anyway.) And while all of the dancing and singing he did was great, it didn't make you look like that. Puck was long lines and perfectly defined muscles covered in rich, sun-kissed skin. Whereas Blaine was almost as pale as Kurt himself, not to mention slender.
Blinking in the sun, Kurt told himself that that didn't matter. Kurt loved Blaine and he would be happy with whatever was under his shirt.
"Dude! Like what you see?" Puck elbowed Kurt in the side playfully, successfully jerking him out of his reverie.
"What? I… No." Kurt flushed scarlet and dropped his eyes to the bottle on the small table next to him.
Puck stared at him deviously, even going so far to quirk an eyebrow. His expression very clearly said, "Uh huh. Sure." Thankfully though, when he spoke, that wasn't what he said. "Grease me up!"
For a second, Kurt just stared at Puck, confusion clouding his mind. All he managed to say was, "Huh?"
"Sunblock." Puck looked at him like he was stupid. "The stuff you were just putting on." He nodded his head at Kurt's arms. "Help me out. I can't reach my back." Puck spun around, offering the wide expanse of his shoulders to Kurt.
Kurt, however, just stood there, unsure of what to do. Did rubbing suntan oil into another boy's back count as cheating on your boyfriend?
"Well?" Puck looked over his shoulder at him. "Are you gonna help me out, or do I need to get someone else?"
"No…." Kurt hastily picked up the bottle and squeezed some of the sunblock into his palm. "I, I've got it." As he rubbed it over both of his palms, Kurt took a deep breath. With as much resolve gathered as possible, Kurt placed his hands on Puck's shoulders and began to rub.
As he massaged the oil in, Kurt tried not to think about how solid and strong Puck felt under his hands. He also tried not to dwell on how Puck seemed to lean back into his touch and move as Kurt moved. Instead, he tried to think of Blaine and how Blaine's shoulders felt. But his mind kept coming back to Puck and how warm and soft his skin was. Not to mention how much he loved the feel of Puck's muscles moving with his touch.
Taking a deep breath and telling himself that he was only helping out a friend, Kurt trailed his hands down to Puck's waist. He made sure to cover each and every inch of Puck's skin with the suntan lotion, telling himself that that was what Puck wanted. He also told himself that Blaine would understand, because he helped his fellow Warblers out with things all the time. Granted, they were fully clothed things, but they were things just the same…
Pressing his lips together, Kurt ran his hands back up Puck's spine, trying not to memorize the feel of Puck's back. But as he reached Puck's shoulders once again and Puck said thanks before taking off towards Lauren…
Kurt knew that he would never forget the feel of Puck's skin under his own.
(Written for lil_miss_choc. Prompt: Sunburn)
Day 17:Obnoxiously Good
Puck plopped down in the chair next to Kurt's, a small bag of barbeque Cheetos in hand. For the first time in, like, ever Puck was early for glee practice. And even though he and Kurt were still trying to keep their thing private, he figured that he could, at least, sit next to Kurt. After all, they'd sat together plenty of times before and no one ever raised an eyebrow.
"Hey." Puck elbowed Kurt as he tore open the Cheetos. Plucking a few out of the bag, he stuffed them in his mouth and began to chew. When Kurt didn't respond, Puck turned to see what was up.
Kurt was staring at him, a look of exasperation on his face. "What are you doing, Puckerman?" His voice was low.
"Babe, chill. There's no one else here." Puck gestured at the room with the Cheeto's. "Plus -" He popped a few of the crunchy snacks in his mouth. "We sat next to each other tons of times before we ha-"
"Will you please keep your voice down?" Kurt hissed and pulled Puck's waving hand down.
"Fine, whatever." Puck shot Kurt a dirty look. He couldn't help but be a little irritated that Kurt was against sitting next to him now. "Be that way."
This time, he didn't need to see the look on Kurt's face. He could feel it, and it was a mixture of exasperation and apology.
"I'm sorry, ok? I just…." Kurt's voice trailed off, and Puck knew that that was all he was going to say.
Puck didn't respond. Instead he shoved another one of the barbeque-flavored snacks into his mouth. They were a new flavor, and he was kind of loving them.
"What…." Puck was still ignoring Kurt. But by the hesitancy in his voice, he could tell Kurt was trying to make nice. "What are you eating?"
"Cheetos. They're barbeque." Puck reached into the bag and pulled out a couple more. "I'm pretty sure they're new 'cause the vending machine is the only place I can find them." He popped them in his mouth and began to chew again.
"They sound obnoxious." Puck looked over just in time to see Kurt scrunch up his nose it disgust.
"Uh, yeah. Like," Puck paused to think. "Obnoxiously good." He ate a few more as if to prove his point.
"Somehow, I doubt that." Kurt brushed his hair out of his eyes.
"Dude, you haven't even tried them." He looked into the practically empty bag and thought about offering one to his boyfriend. But based off the look on Kurt's face, there was no way that was going to happen. So he held the bag up to his mouth and poured the rest in.
"And I don't plan to either." Kurt watched him, his face still disgusted. "And don't think you're going to kiss me aft-"
Lips covered in Barbeque Cheeto dust, Puck leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on Kurt's mouth, cutting off his tirade. It was quick and to the point, and no sooner had he pulled away that the rest of the glee club started filing in.
Too shocked to speak, Kurt just stared at him, little flakes of orange and red stuck to his lips.
Balling the bag up and tossing it into the trash, Puck smirked at the other boy. "Like I said, obnoxiously good."
(Written for ebilchickens. Prompt: Cheetos)
Day 18:Not A Chance
"No, I've got it." Puck sounded frustrated as he twisted the ends of his tie this way and that without success. "I can do this." He turned to Kurt, and Kurt knew that he was looking for approval. But the knot was lopsided and messy. And nowhere near the Windsor knot that Kurt knew Puck was aiming for. "Good, right?"
Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, his amusement bubbling over into a soft laugh. He knew that Puck was trying his hardest to knot the tie, but Kurt couldn't help be amused. Puck was, for lack of a better word, adorable when flustered. "Not even close."
"What?" Puck's voice was filled with disbelief as he turned back towards the mirror. "It looks right… I think." Kurt walked to stand behind him and Puck caught his eye in the mirror. Puck was looking at him, a pleading expression on his face.
"Here…." Smirking, Kurt reached over Puck's shoulders and easily pulled out the excuse for a knot. "Like this." He stepped even closer to Puck so that they were pressed together and proceeded to tie the tie. When he was finished, he placed his chin on Puck's shoulder, and he smoothed out the deep blue silk. "Perfect."
When Kurt's hands reached Puck's waist, he looked up to find his boyfriend staring at him in the mirror again. The exasperation was gone from his eyes, and all that was left was… love.
"You're gonna have to teach me how to do that." Puck's voice was just above a whisper as he leaned back into Kurt's chest.
Kurt just smiled and kissed him on the check before saying, "Someday..."
Even though he'd said the word, Kurt knew that if teaching Puck how to tie a tie meant losing these moments… then there wasn't a chance he ever would.
(Written for ebilchickens. Prompt: Ties)
Had anyone told Noah Puckerman that Kurt Hummel would be messier than him in any regard, Puck would have laughed. He would have looked at them like they were joking and said, "good one, man!" But when he walked into Kurt's bathroom the morning after sleeping over the first time…
Puck had gotten a shock.
Lying on the counter was a half-empty roll of toothpaste. But instead of all the contents being pressed neatly to one end, it looked like Kurt had squeezed the tube right in the middle. It was mangled and bent, the paste dispersed unevenly. There was even a bit of blue seeping out under the cap, almost like it was bleeding.
It looked so… pitiful, so messy that Puck could hardly believe it. It just wasn't Kurt-like at all. Kurt was always so neat, so precise. And this was anything but.
Puck picked up the tube and tightened the top. After wiping away the excess, he squeezed the rest of toothpaste towards the capped end, evening out the tube. Once he was satisfied with it, Puck opened it and squeezed some of the Crest onto his toothbrush. And as he worked the paste over his teeth, Puck wondered what else he was going to learn about Kurt.
(Written for ebilchickens. Prompt: Toothpaste)
Day 20:Boiling Water
Kurt beamed as Puck held his hands over his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. As a small laugh escaped his throat, he placed his own hands over Puck's. With Puck behind him and guiding him, Kurt stumbled into, what he guessed was, the living room. Or maybe it was the kitchen. He knew that he should have known which; after all, they'd been living together in the same apartment for eight months now. But Puck had covered his eyes before letting him walk into the apartment, and his excitement seemed to have affected his spatial recognition, because Kurt was totally lost.
"Almost there…" Puck whispered into Kurt's ear, and Kurt couldn't help but shiver.
"What's going on?" Kurt laughed as he stumbled forward, and Puck bumped into him.
"You'll see." Gently, Puck urged Kurt forward.
"Mmmmmm…." Kurt inhaled deeply, a mouthwatering aroma filling his lungs. "Did you order from -" Puck uncovered Kurt's eyes, and he gasped. Laid out on their tiny dining table was dinner. But it wasn't take out from Kurt's favorite restaurant or anything like that. No, it was a home-cooked meal, complete with salad and bread. "You cooked? I thought you didn't even know how to boil water…." He turned a little so he could look at Puck.
Puck was smiling at him, looking like the cat that'd just swallowed the canary.
"When did you learn to cook?" Kurt stared at his boyfriend in amazement. He had no idea how Puck had managed to hide something like this from him.
"You know that math class I've been taking Tuesday nights…." Puck trailed off, his smiled growing even more self-satisfied.
Kurt continued to watch him, unable to think of anything to say.
Puck, however, didn't seem to be at a loss for words. "Now maybe we can…." He quirked his eyebrow seductively. "Cook together sometime?"
All Kurt could do was laugh.
(Written for lezi. Prompt: Making Dinner)
Day 21:Fifth Day
It had been four days since Kurt had walked out. But to Puck, it had felt like an eternity. It had been so long since he'd been alone, truly alone. Sure, he and Kurt had spent days apart, visiting with family or friends. But even then, they'd still been a couple; they'd still been together.
With Kurt really gone…
Puck had never felt so totally and completely alone in his life.
The day after the fight, Puck had rejoiced in having the apartment to himself. He'd been able to play whatever music he wanted, as loud as he wanted. And after taking his shower, he'd tossed his towel on the floor where it sat, soaking wet, for an hour. That was to say nothing of the junk he'd greedily snarfed down for lunch.
But when he'd woken up to an empty bed the next morning, Puck had been filled with a horrible gaping hole where Kurt normally was. After crawling out of bed, he'd spent the day cleaning the apartment. But in reality, he'd gone through their home searching for signs of the life they'd shared together.
The ugly duck mug that Puck had bought Kurt as a joke years ago.
Puck's ratty old WMHS t-shirt that Kurt liked to sleep in.
Just… anything that would make their past seem more real, more present.
He'd gone to sleep wearing his old school shirt and clutching the knit blanket Kurt liked to curl up in when he read.
The following two days had been filled with the same desperate searching for signs that Kurt had been part of his life. And that somehow he still was, because, as of that moment, it didn't feel like it. Kurt hadn't called or texted once over the past few days. Sure, Puck knew that Kurt had walked out on him, saying it was over, but part of him was still clinging to the hope that Kurt hadn't really meant it.
But the more time that passed, the less likely that seemed.
On the fifth day since their fight, Puck woke up feeling just as alone. He went about his day, trying to hold on, hoping that just maybe Kurt would come back, but not really believing it. After five days, it seemed like Kurt was really gone.
When he sat down on the couch for dinner, Puck scanned the apartment for what felt like the millionth time in the past few days. Kurt's presence still lingered, even if he did not.
Puck was just about to force himself to accept that when he heard a key turn in the lock….
(Written for lezi. Prompt: Past, Present (and Future?))
For some reason, the idea of licking or being licked had always grossed Kurt out. He knew that it was supposed to be romantic and sexy. But whenever he thought of someone running their tongue over his skin… he couldn't help but feel a little nauseous.
To him, licking seemed anything but romantic. In fact, it made him think of animals. After all, dogs licked. Cats, sometimes, licked too. And he'd learned at the petting zoo, the hard way, that most animals would lick your palm if you offered them food. Goats, sheep, llamas… they'd all stick out their tongues and rub it over your palm, leaving long tendrils of saliva behind in their wake.
So really, the whole process of licking just seemed so… disgusting.
But as he held Puck in his arms, both of them trying to catch their breath, Kurt wanted nothing more than to press his tongue against Puck's throat. He wanted to taste his sweat and revel in the heat of Puck's flushed flesh. It didn't help that Puck's head was thrown back slightly, exposing the pounding pulse point in his throat.
As he watched the throbbing vein, Kurt drew in a deep shuddering breath. He wanted to feel the rhythm under his tongue, to explore the way Puck's energy felt under such an intimate touch. And as he stared, Kurt thought maybe licking wasn't sogross….
Their tongues had touched after all, dancing together as they'd kissed. Why should Puck's neck be any different? It wasn't like Kurt was going to lick crushed corn off Puck's throat. And it certainly wasn't like he was going to leave gobs of spit behind either.
He just wanted to taste Puck….
Taking as deep a breath as his lungs would permit, Kurt dipped his head forward. When his nose brushed against Puck's jaw, he flicked out his tongue. It was only one small touch, but he instantly tasted the heat and pounding of the throbbing vein. When Puck shivered in response, Kurt decided that perhaps licking wasn't so bad after all.
(Written for lezi. Prompt: Lick)
Day 23:Fruity Drinks
Mr. Hummel shoved a large bag of charcoal briquettes into Puck's arm causing him to stumble backward a bit. While he tried to regain his balance, Puck couldn't help but wonder if just maybehe'd done that on purpose. Like… maybe Mr. Hummel was testing him in some weird way. Puck wasn't quite sure what that way might be, but he'd had fathers do stranger things upon meeting him. Granted, this wasn't his first time meeting Kurt's dad. But it was his first time hanging out with the Hummel's as Kurt's boyfriend.
Which seemed to make a world of difference in Mr. Hummel's wise eyes.
As he carried the bag over to the grill, Puck caught sight of Kurt. He was sitting at the picnic table with Rachel and Mrs. Hummel. They all had tall glasses of some fruity drink that Kurt had accessorized with plump, red strawberries and umbrellas. Kurt was smiling and laughing with the girls, but Puck could tell that he wasn't really paying attention to them. Instead, he was watching Puck and nibbling at the strawberry off of his own glass.
A slow burn, which had nothing to do with the hot August weather, began to creep up Puck's spine. He wanted to stay there, watching as Kurt flirted with him from across the yard. But just as Kurt blew him a kiss, Puck heard a pointed cough behind him.
As Puck turned around, the heat that had begun to fill him only seconds ago turned to a deep flush as Mr. Hummel stared at him. "I…." Puck's eyes quickly flickered back to Kurt who was trying to hold back a fit of giggles. It was obvious that Kurt had known his dad was standing right behind him.
Shooting Kurt a dirty look, Puck adjusted the bag in his arms. But before he could take it over to the grill, Kurt blew him another kiss. And even though they were far apart, Puck swore that he could feel it teasing his cheek.
(Written for wearemagnetised. Prompt: Charcoal)
Day 24:Classic White
Puck stood amongst the shelves holding the dress shirts. The store offered a rainbow of colors, each in a plastic sleeve, folded perfectly with the edges of the collars pinned down. Most of the shirts were solid colors, but some had thin stripes or collars and cuffs of a different shade from the rest of the shirt.
Slowly walking through the forest of dress shirts, Puck began to pick out different ones that caught his eye. By the time he'd made his way to the end of the first row, he was holding a bright yellow shirt, a baby blue one, and a royal purple. But before turning into the next aisle, he doubled back for a red shirt with black pinstripes and a green one with an orange collar.
He'd made it halfway through the second aisle and had his hands on a lime green shirt with yellow stripes when Kurt appeared in front of him.
"Noah…." Kurt dragged out the word as if he was trying to be patient with a small child. "What are you doing?"
"Umh…." Puck's mind went into overdrive as he tried to come up with an explanation. "Shopping." It came out sounding more like a question than a statement. Trying to cover it up, he nodded at the heaps of clothing Kurt had slung over his arm.
"No, you aren't." Puck looked at Kurt questioningly as he shifted the items from one arm to the other. "You're picking out random dress shirts. Again."
"Well, yeah." Adding the shirt he was picking up to the pile in his arms, Puck felt himself grow more confident. "I need to try them on before I pick out the ones I want, right?"
Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes. "Noah, you don't need any more dress shirts. You have twenty as it is. And you don't even wear them for work. You just have them!"
Puck could see the exasperation growing in Kurt, and he felt himself become put out. "Yeah, well, what do you need all of those clothes for? You've got two closets full already."
"Honey, this is the new fall collection. I donated all of my out of date pieces to the Good Will last week. Don't you remember me cleaning?" Puck blushed as Kurt stared at him meaningfully. Yes, he remembered that day. But it was the cleaning that he remembered.
It was everything that had come after that he remembered with perfect clarity.
"Yeah. But I didn't know that that meant you needed a whole new wardrobe." Puck spied an orange Creamsicle colored shirt not that far away that he wanted to grab. But he didn't dare move.
"Not a whole new one." Puck tried to edge towards the shirt as Kurt looked over the things in his arms. "I kept all of my staples. These are just new accent pieces."
"Uh huh." He nodded along like he understood what Kurt was talking about. So long as Kurt didn't notice what he was doing, Puck was fine.
"Stop." Puck froze as Kurt reached out a hand to grab his wrist. How he'd managed that, Puck didn't know. "Noah, this is becoming a serious problem here lately. What is with all of the dress shirts?"
"I…." Puck's voice trailed off, as Kurt gave his wrist a reassuring squeeze. "I like it when…." He dropped his eyes to floor, a slow flush creeping around his neck. Puck couldn't believe that he was embarrassed. He was never embarrassed about things like this. But somehow, his reason for wanting the shirts seemed so much more intimate and private than he'd even realized.
"Hmmm?" The sound was a low buzz in Kurt's throat, and Puck found himself swallowing deeply.
"I like it when you wear my shirts. After we…." Feeling like a moron, Puck felt his flush deepen. Kurt's hand was still on his wrist, but now he was stroking the pulse point in Puck's wrist soothingly. "You know." What was his problem? Why couldn't he just come out and say that he liked seeing Kurt in nothing but his dress shirts after they'd had sex?
"So that's why the closet is suddenly filled with these…." He let go of Puck's wrist and took the stack of shirts from him. Still staring at Puck, he tossed them on top of the shelf. Puck felt like crying out when he saw them scatter. But Kurt leaned in, his mouth brushing Puck's ear as he spoke. "In that case… the only dress shirts I want in your closet now are classic white. Do you understand?" He nipped at Puck's ear a little, and Puck felt his heartbeat stutter.
If plain white shirts were what it took to see Kurt in his shirts, then he would happily stock up them from now on.
(Written for wearemagnetised. Prompt: Intervention)
Day 25:Hang Man
Kurt wouldn't call what he had a secret admirer.
Yes, this person was keeping themself a secret. And yes, they were leaving him notes on his locker. But that was it. No flowers, no chocolates, no gifts or trinkets. Just hastily scrawled words on yellow Post-It's in a scrawl that Kurt didn't recognize.
When he'd found the first one stuck to his locker, Kurt had pulled it away, thinking it was just another taunt. But when he'd read it, he'd been shocked (and flattered) to see that it said, "You look hot in those jeans." After reading it, Kurt had smiled to himself, but as he pulled open his locker, his expression changed for two reasons.
The first of which was Blaine. Or… Blaine's picture, but whatever, same thing. The glossy five by seven was staring down at him smiling serenely from its place of honor. And as he looked at the photo, Kurt couldn't help but feel a little guilty about being so pleased by the note. But he brushed that off, telling himself that there was nothing wrong with being touched by a compliment. Especially one that was true. He did look fabulous in his new red pinstripe, cropped skinny jeans.
That was just a fact.
But as soon as his guilt slipped away, Kurt's mind went to the only other boy at WMHS he knew was gay.
Staring at the note, Kurt tried to find Karofsky's presence in the token. He couldn't though. Karofsky, after all, had made his feelings known loud and clear. So Kurt couldn't see him resorting to anonymous letters. Plus, the handwriting, while sloppy, seemed… relaxed. And as odd as that sounded, Kurt couldn't help but imagine Karofsky's handwriting to be small and cramped, almost hostile.
Looking at the note once again, Kurt decided that there was no way that it could have been from Karofsky. So, his confidence boosted, Kurt stuck the note on the inside of his locker door between his ticket from New York and a picture of himself with Rachel and Mercedes. But before closing his locker, Kurt ran his fingers over the words, wishing he knew who had written them.
For the next two weeks, Kurt had walked to his locker in the morning to find a new note. Each one had a different message; some were about his appearance, while others complimented his singing or attitude. However, none of them gave a single clue as to who the Post-It Poet (as Kurt had taken to calling him) was. But Kurt didn't really mind. He liked having the compliments to look forward to – even if Blaine's picture was starting to make him feel a little guilty about it.
He'd thought of asking if anyone had seen the mysterious Post-It leaver. He'd also thought of showing one of the notes to Mercedes to see if she recognized the handwriting. But he did neither. Kurt knew that if he would have, rumors would start to swirl, which might make the notes stop.
Instead, he decided to keep his mouth shut and enjoy the compliments as they came.
Until one day Kurt saw something that stopped his heart in his chest….
Like normal, Mr. Schuester was running late for glee rehearsal. And while that meant that they would get out five minutes later than they were supposed to, Kurt didn't really mind. It gave him a chance to wind down after a long day of classes and exchange some gossip with the girls.
Here lately though, the boys had taken to playing hangman on the white board while they waited for Schue to arrive. The first time they'd played, Kurt had thrown out a letter or two. But when the word was revealed, he'd vowed never to play with them again. Gossiping with Rachel was way more entertaining than games about what the boys did in their spare time.
Today, it was Puck's turn to man the board. And even though Kurt had no intention of participating, he looked over at the game to see what today's clue was. But when he looked up and saw a familiar lazy scrawl, normally seen on a yellow Post-It, Kurt gasped in shock.
(Written for wearemagnetised. Prompt: Post-it Notes)
Day 26:Shake Up
"Here, just trust me." Puck held out the cup in his hand, the sweat making it slip. He clutched it tighter, causing a little to spill over his skin. The sugary lemonade was freezing as it slid over his fingers. Lifting his hand, he licked off the sticky trail before it could drip onto his shoes. The drink was tart, yet sweet, just like he remembered.
"Noah, I love you, but no." Puck's eyes flickered over to Kurt just in time to see an exasperated look leave his face. "I have a show in a week, and I need to look by best."
Puck snorted. "Babe, you always look hot." He quirked an un-amused eyebrow at his boyfriend. "Which you know."
Kurt returned Puck's look, and Puck couldn't help but laugh.
Staring pointedly at Kurt, Puck took a long drink from the lemon shake up he was holding. It was just as delicious as when he was a kid. And he couldn't help but moan a little as the taste of lemons and sugar slid down his throat, chilling his insides. It was swelteringly hot outside, but for a few seconds, he managed to feel cool. Wrapping his lips around the straw, Puck took another drink.
"What is it with you?" Kurt's voice was curious, and Puck stared at him over the rim of his glass. "You've been raving about the lemonade since we walked into the fair." Kurt cringed as a sticky toddler carrying a balloon and cotton candy bumped into him.
Puck took another sip of the lemon shakeup, savoring the taste of the fresh lemon juice. "My dad used to bring me here. Before he left." He looked down at the cup in his hands. It was made of bright green plastic, and there was half of a squeezed lemon floating at the bottom. "We would share lemon shake ups." Looking up at Kurt, he shrugged a little.
"Oh." Kurt's voice was soft, and Puck didn't know what to say. "Well, I guess I could try a little. Just a sip…." A small smile crossed his face.
Returning the smile, Puck held the drink out to his boyfriend.
(Written for mrs_sakuma. Prompt: County Fair)
Day 27:Under the Big Top
Kurt reached into the box of popcorn that he'd purchased on their way into the tent. As he looked around at all of the sights, he put the fluffy kernels in his mouth and began to chew. Even though it was fresh, the popcorn tasted slightly stale; the horrible humidity had gotten to it already. It was also very salty, like the popper had done that with the hope his customers would come back for drinks. And if that really was the man's plan, it had worked; Kurt was already dying for a Diet Coke.
"Hey, Noah, I want to go back and get something to drink." Kurt looked over at his boyfriend.
Puck was staring at him with an I-told-you-so look on his face. And yes, Puck had told him so. But Kurt hadn't wanted to risk getting anything liquid when they'd first walked into the red-and-blue-striped big top. There were just too many screaming children running around with snow cones and hot dogs for him to feel comfortable. It would only take one hyperactive toddler bumping into him for Kurt to ruin his white pants.
When Puck didn't say anything, Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, ok. You were right. I should have gotten it before, and now the lines are probably really long. And we'll get terrible seats. Is that all? Did I miss something?" He shot Puck a nasty look as Puck pretended to consider the question.
"Nah, that sounds about right." As they headed back towards the concession stand, Puck reached over for the popcorn. But Kurt gently smacked his hand away. No way was Puck gonna get his hands into Kurt's popcorn after that. Puck smirked in triumph.
Once they reached the (very long) line, Kurt began to look around once again. The tent was huge, large enough to hold three rings. Hanging above the center one was an assortment of hoops, ropes, and pulleys that he could only assume were for the aerialists. The ring farthest to the right was closed in by a large metal cage and was filled with five stools large enough for tigers. The one on the left contained curious contraptions. One looked like some weird balancing act, and another looked like a table covered in knives.
All around him were the sounds of people talking and children screaming. The chorus of voices mingled with the calliope music that filled the tent. And the whole thing smelled of sawdust, animals, and popcorn. It was a strangely wonderful scent that reminded him of the days he'd gone to see the circus with his parents.
There was just only thing that seemed to be missing from the excitement. One thing that, truth be told, Kurt didn't miss at all….
Puck elbowed Kurt in the ribs. His voice was excited as he exclaimed, "Hey babe, check it out!"
And even though Kurt wanted to continue soaking in the sights and sounds of his childhood, he turned towards his boyfriend. But instead of Puck, Kurt came face to face with his worst nightmare.
With the thing that had haunted his dreams since his dad let him stay up late to watch It when he was seven.
Standing next to Puck, wearing a bright red wig and white face with a smile that stretched creepily from ear to ear, was a clown.
Before he could think, before he could process what was happening, Kurt jumped. Popcorn rained from his box in a shower of little buttery puffs that stuck to his hair and caught here and there on his accessories. The clown's face continued to grin, but his eyes looked shocked. And before the scene could get any worse, he walked off towards a group of kids.
But even though he was gone, Kurt's heart was hammering and his palms sweating. He could feel the people around him staring, and he wanted nothing more than to hide under the bleachers. But his feet were stuck to the straw dust strewn ground.
"Babe, come here." Kurt barely registered Puck's words as he was pulled into his strong arms. "What's wrong?"
As Puck held onto him, Kurt felt himself begin to calm down a bit. "I really don't like clowns."
(Written for mrs_sakuma. Prompt: Circus)
The sun was just beginning to rise, casting Kurt's room in a soft pink haze. Puck had been awake for a little while, dreading the moment when he would have to get up and leave. The night before, Kurt had told him that he should go home, that if his dad caught him there, he would be dead. But Puck hadn't been able to make himself go. The bed was so comfortable, and Kurt looked so beautiful sprawled out, his pale skin flushed pink against the white sheets.
So, despite his better judgment, Puck had stayed, promising to be gone before Mr. Hummel woke up.
But now it was that time, and Puck was loathe to leave.
He wanted to kiss Kurt good morning and see how he looked when he first opened his eyes. That, however, wasn't an option. Not that morning anyway.
Once again, Puck looked at his boyfriend. Kurt was still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. His eyelashes brushed against his cheeks as his eyes flickered in a dream. And his mouth was open just a touch, looking soft and kissable.
But despite all of that, the thing that caught Puck's attention the most was a slight layer of stubble that ghosted over his face. It was faint, barely noticeable, but it was there. And Puck couldn't stop himself from reaching out running his finger over it.
At the touch, Kurt stirred gently in his sleep, sighing softly.
Puck watched him, amazed at the feel of the soft hairs under his skin. He couldn't believe that Kurt, with his gentle features and porcelain skin, was capable of growing stubble. It seemed like the complete opposite of the face he gave the world.
But there it was, as dark as his hair, a faint look at the man he was becoming.
(Written for digitalchoco. Prompt: Stubble)
Day 29:Bad Attitude
"Excuse you." Kurt stumbled back a step as he bounced off a very hard body. He'd been in New York for five years now, but he still couldn't get over just how rude some people could be. And worse yet, he sort of felt like their attitude was starting rub off on him. (Which, considering how much he had already, wasn't a good thing.)
But even though he felt a twinge of guilt after his outburst, Kurt didn't regret what he'd said. He and Rachel had a performance tonight, and he could not be late for his call time. That would follow him around forever.
"No, excuse you." The voice that responded to Kurt was gruff and just as put out. "You're the one who ran into me, dude."
It took only one word for Kurt to realize who he had just run into.
Because only Noah Puckerman could use the word dude quite like that.
Taking a deep breath, Kurt looked up from where he was straightening his jacket.
Puck looked older, more mature, and his stupid fake-y mohawk was gone. Now, he had an inch of dark hair that covered his entire scalp. He hadn't lost any of his muscle, but it seemed more refined now – less jock and more model. And even though he hated to admit it, Kurt couldn't help but think that Puck looked great.
It was as Puck smiled down at him that Kurt realized something. Puck was the mystery guest that Rachel had invited to the show just for him. As a smile began to cross Kurt's own face, he couldn't decide whether he wanted to kill Rachel or kiss her.
(Written for Anonymous. Prompt: New York)
Day 30:Pip Pip
Puck climbed the stairs after Finn, a bag of Funyuns in one arm and a two liter of Mello Yello in the other. As far as he was concerned, it didn't get much better than the tasty goodness of the onions rings washed down by the smooth taste of his favorite citrus drink. Sure, Finn had protested, saying that Cherry Coke and Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles were the best, but Puck knew that wasn't true.
Once they reached the top of staircase, Finn realized that he'd forgotten the ranch flavored dip in the kitchen. Puck offered to go get it, but Finn told him to go ahead and get the X Box set up instead. Which, truth be told, made Puck happy. He didn't really have any desire to run back down the steps for something that grossed him out.
So as Finn ran down the steps, his footfalls sounding like thunder, Puck headed towards Finn's bedroom. But as he passed Kurt's room, he heard a high-pitched voice singing some song that was far too peppy to be a dude's. And from what he could make out, it was a girl's song. Or Puck thought it was anyway. After all, the lyrics had something to do a prince and looking good from behind in a white dress. But with Kurt, you just never knew.
Curious but more importantly confused, Puck used his elbow to push open the door. He tried to be quiet, hoping to catch Kurt in some embarrassing act. Because hey, he and Kurt might have become friends(-ish), but Puck wasn't above a little teasing.
When he finally had the door open, Puck froze. It was too good to be true.
Kurt was spinning around, a bouquet of fake flowers in his hand and a white sheet wrapped around his body like a dress. And as he continued to twirl, he sang about being a maid-of-honor for a future queen. Before Puck could stop himself, he was laughing so hard that the bag of Funyuns fell from his arm.
The next thing Puck knew, Kurt had stopped spinning and was staring at him. His face was flushed a deep red, and the sheet dress had slipped off his shoulder. He looked so embarrassed that Puck thought he might keel over any second.
Through his laughter, Puck managed to ask, "What are you doing?" He bent over to pick of his bag of snacks but didn't take his eyes off of Kurt.
Kurt seemed frozen in his spot, unable to speak. But after a few painful seconds, he composed himself, even straightening the wrap. "I was… I was working on my musical about Pippa Middleton, thank you very much." He shook his hair back, as if trying to look dignified, and Puck was overcome with laughter again.
Through the tears of mirth that were forming in his eyes, Puck could see Kurt staring at him. His arms were crossed over his chest, the bouquet still clutched tightly in his grasp. And even though Puck was laughing so hard he could barely think straight, a conversation he'd had with his sister came to mind. "Wait… isn't that like…." He paused as he tried to come up with the word.
One night he'd caught Erin reading something online about vampires and werewolves. She'd gone on to explain that it was a very popular 'fic' about Caroline and Tyler from The Vampire Diaries by a much beloved author. She'd had a word for that as well, but he couldn't remember what it was. "Fanfiction?"
"What?" Kurt gasped. "No! Of course it isn't. Pippa Middleton is a real person, Puckerman."
Puck's raucous laughter had died down, and the comment made him snort in amusement. "Same thing, dude. You're writing a story -"
"It's a musical!" Kurt's voice raised an octave, and his eyebrows climbed with it.
"Fine. You're writing a musical about someone, because you're a fan of them." Puck figured that his sister would probably have had a few things to add on the subject. But he thought he'd caught the gist of if it. And from the look on Kurt's face, Puck was pretty sure he felt the same way.
"I don't care." Puck watched Kurt as he tried to deny it. "It is not fanfiction."
Puck could just make out the sound of Finn clopping around in the kitchen. And he realized just how long it had taken him to grab the dip. "Whatever, it so is. And you -"
"Yo, Puck! I hope you've got the game set up! I made us some pizza puffs too!" Finn's voice echoed up the steps, and Puck shook his head at the same time Kurt rolled his eyes.
But despite the eye roll, Kurt looked a little relieved. "Well, it sounds like your playmate is coming back. So… off you go!" He waved at the door with the flowers.
Puck laughed at the eagerness in Kurt's voice. As amusing at it was though, Puck knew Kurt was right. Finn was going to have a heart attack when he realized the zombies weren't ready to eat his virtual brains. And grumpy Finn was likely to hog the pizza puffs, which was not cool. "Well, I'll let you get back to your fic. And if you ever need a prince to rehearse with, just let me know."
Once again, Kurt's face turned bright red. This time though, he wasn't embarrassed; he was angry. And just as Puck turned to walk back into the hall, he saw Kurt heave the fake flowers he'd been holding at him. A second later, the bouquet hit him squarely in the back of the head and fell to the floor. Rather than turn around, Puck just laughed harder as he made his way to Finn's room. The sound of a door slamming echoed behind him.
(Written for Anonymous. Prompt: Fanfiction)
Squeeka Cuomo's Notes
- These drabbles were all written based on prompts that I received. I can honestly say that I wouldn't have come up with the majority of these ideas without the suggestions I was given. Thank you to everyone who stopped by and left me a prompt!
- A huge thank you to raving_liberal for agreeing to do some emergency betaing. Even though my beta ended up pulling through, I still appreciate the help. :)
- Thank you to everyone who submitted prompts. Each and every drabble is dedicated to the prompter. I hope you all enjoyed reading them just as much as I enjoyed writing them.
- Quack: Thank you so, so much. I know this was a long, difficult haul and I really appreciate all of your dedication and support.
- Reviews are love.