I don't own Glee and all mistakes are my own.
I love me some Pezberry, baby.
Kurt woke up to find his phone vibrating into his back. He fished it out of the sheets and answered it without looking at the caller ID.
"'lo?" Kurt answered, met with a sort of shrieking noise.
"Kurt Hummel. Kurt. Santana called me. And do you know what she wanted?"
Rachel was obviously excited, like he'd planned for, and Kurt smile. "I might."
She took in a big breath. "Just in case you don't, I'll explain. She phones me, just as I'm leaving a failed audition—a rare occurrence, but one nonetheless—and I see her name printed on the screen of my phone. Odd, because she's never once said something nice. Other than that time in senior year when she told me I had pretty eyes . . . Anyway, she calls, and asks if she can come see me. And of course, I shoot her down, because she's been so mean to me, and I didn't want to be plagues with negative energy. And then, AND THEN, she tells me she's got this enormous crush on me, and wants to date me. ME! Rachel Berry!"
Kurt laughs, quietly, as to not wake Noah who's sleeping soundly beside him. He traces a finger from Noah's temple to his lips, watching as the man doesn't even stir.
"And what did you say, Rach?"
"I said yes of course. And then we talked for hours. HOURS! And I—I can't believe how absolutely easy it is to like her. The real Santana. She told me about you and Puck, you know."
Kurt raises an eyebrow. "Did she now?"
Rachel laughs. "Relax. It's kind of nice knowing that Noah's in good hands. And Puck . . . he's good for you."
Kurt smiles. "He is."
"Well, I'll let you go. I forget time differences sometimes. It's got to be three in the morning for you."
Kurt yawns. "Just about."
Rachel giggles. "I really like her, Kurt."
"Good. Because she's head over heels for you. When that happened? I'm not sure. But it did and you should be happy. I think Santana would do anything for you right now."
"We could get married here."
"You could." Kurt pauses. "Are you?"
"I don't know! We haven't even gone on a first date. She's coming this weekend. To see me. And I—I dumped Jesse. I hope this lasts, Kurt." Rachel's voice is gentle, and Kurt admires the girl.
"It will. As for now. I'm going back to sleep. Good luck with San. Break her heart and I will rip the talent from your throat."
Rachel laughs again. "Got it. Night Kurtie."
He hangs up and sets his phone on the nightstand, climbing out of bed before tossing Noah another look. How did they get this far? How did they end up in love, in LA, in each other's arms?
Noah's first day of college is tomorrow. Kurt can't fathom the pride he has in Noah, the pride that someone as smart, as kind, as bad ass as Noah is all his. It's wonderful and scary and pretty and heart-warming all at the same time. Sure, Noah could clean up once in a while. Could stop cursing up a storm all the time, could stop leaving the freaking cap of the toothpaste off, but Kurt works around him, works with Noah.
No regrets. There aren't any. He thinks back on that first night when he lost his virginity. He never thought it would have ended in a relationship, with the both of them committing to each other. It was nerve-wracking. And he still hadn't told his father. Or Finn, or anyone who was still in Lima.
He sighed and walked into the kitchen, finding Ryan sitting at the table already, feet on the edge of the stained wood, reading what looked to be a comic book.
"Can't sleep?" Kurt asks gently and Ryan just looks at him.
"Where did we go wrong?" he asks. Kurt stares at him, a little incredulous, and a lot confused.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, how did we fall out of love?" Ryan stands and walks close to Kurt, reaching out and fingering a tendril before Kurt pushed him away.
"I don't know, Ryan. And I—I can't do this. I—I love Noah. And I'm not going to do anything to hurt him." Kurt's words are firm, but he hates seeing the hurt in Kurt's eyes.
"I don't get it. I did everything right," Ryan murmurs. Kurt shook his head, sighing.
"You cheated. Blaine cheated. Noah had to fight for me. I shot him down every time because of people like you and Blaine. People who didn't think I was good enough for them. I loved you, Ryan. But we were never right. I had to worry about you flirting with other people. I had to worry if I was good enough for you. I had to wonder where you were when twelve, one, two o clock in the morning hit and you were still gone. I hate to always wonder. I don't with Noah. I don't have to second guess one bit that he loves me. That he'd do anything for me. I've known him for a long time. And sure, he was an asshole for the first part. But when things got dangerous, he stepped up, even when my step-brother didn't. He held me, and took care of me, and he made me feel good about myself. But you?
"You never did that for me, Ryan. I was always wondering. And when you love someone, you don't make them wonder." Kurt turned and stalked towards the fridge, pulling out the milk before pouring some into a pot and heating it.
"I loved you, Kurt. I told you that every day," Ryan argued. His blonde hair and blue eyes made him look so innocent. The clouded look in his eyes, the slacking of his shoulders—Kurt remembered what it felt like to love him. But it was infinitely shadowed by the intricate love he felt for Noah. Incomparable. Nothing could ever compete with Noah.
"Telling me and showing me—two different things. And sleeping with the guy that flirts with you at work in our bed isn't exactly very convincing."
Ryan sighs. "I'm sorry. How many times do I have to tell you?" he mutters. There's a tensing of his shoulders that tells Kurt he's angry.
Kurt shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. I've forgiven you. I let you live here, even though I know Noah hates it. Why? Because you're still my friend Ryan. If Blaine came to me, needing something, I would try my hardest to get it for him. Why? Because he's my friend. But don't, for one second, think I'm going to abandon the best thing that's happened to me in forever because you still love me."
Ryan's eyes catch his and Kurt sighs. "I'm sorry. That was harsh," Kurt admits.
"No, you're right. I shouldn't even be here. And I'm sorry I poured this on you. I just, I see you and Puck, sitting on the couch or eating dinner or even laughing and . . . I just—I miss you."
Kurt smiles at him and Ryan smiles back.
"I—I should go to bed. I—I found an apartment close to work, so I should be out of your hair in a week. I just, I thought it would work to talk one more time." Ryan leans forward and gives Kurt a hug and Kurt hugs him back just as hard.
"You'll find him. And if he's anything like Noah, he'll be in the most unlikely package." Kurt grins and Ryan nods, retreating into the hallway.
Puck wasn't exactly ecstatic to hear Kurt's ex-boyfriend coming onto Kurt, but as he stood in the hallway, listening, he could hear that Kurt could defend himself quite nicely. He ducked back into the bedroom when he heard Ryan say he was going to bed. He waited until he heard the door to Ryan's bedroom close, and then finally came out himself, watching Kurt sit cross legged on the counter, nursing a mug of warm milk. Puck just stood off to the side, observing. Kurt's brow was furrowed and his muscles were tense, but as soon as Puck walked over to him, set a hand on his thigh, it all drained away and Kurt was looking up at him with a lazy smile.
"I thought you were still sleeping," Kurt murmured.
Puck smiled. "I was. Just woke up."
"You miss me?" Kurt mumbled cheekily and Puck laughed.
"Would it be hard to believe if I did?"
Kurt licked his lips and Puck's eyes followed the action. "Only a little."
Puck leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Kurt's warm lips, curving them into a smile. "I love you, kay?"
Kurt eyed him suspiciously and pressed his lips into a hard line. It was hard for Puck to distinguish if he was in trouble or not.
"How much did you hear?"
Puck sighed and said, "Somewhere around, 'How did we fall out of love'."
Kurt looked down and Puck lifted his face up so their eyes met. "I'm not mad, Kurt. I just—I want you to know I'm not going anywhere. I won't hurt you. Because if you're hurt, I'm hurt, and I don't want that to happen."
Kurt smiled and blushed, sipping from his mug. "You're so sweet."
Puck shrugs. "I'm just telling the truth." Puck likes the way Kurt blushes. Likes the way he's still so shy, even after they've exposed their bodies countless times to each other. Sex is one thing, a different kind of vulnerability. But showing someone what you feel? That's a whole differing fucking ball game Puck doesn't quite know how to play. But Kurt's sort of teaching him the rules and they, well, they make a really good team together.
"Come on. You have class, and I have work. Doesn't do well to go it with nasty sleep deprived skin."
Puck grins and they walk back to the bedroom, shutting off lights and climbing in together.
Kurt pressed his body into Puck, Kurt's chest to Puck's back, and wrapped his arms around him. He knew what Kurt was doing. It was a reassurance tactic. Whenever Kurt felt that Puck doubted himself, doubting them, he would show Puck that it was real, that what they had was untouchable.
Kurt pressed a kiss into the soft skin of Puck's neck. "I love you okay?"
And when you love someone, you don't make them wonder.
"Love you, too."
Puck walked to class, exhausted from his lack of sleep from the night before, but still very enthusiastic about his first day of class. A college kid. Who would have thought?
Apparently, Kurt, but Kurt saw the best things in him even when others were blind to his excellence.
Puck sat in the middle of the lecture room, not wanting to come off as apathetic or overly eager. He set a notebook on his desk, as well as the ten ton textbook, opening it to skim the first chapter, even though he'd studied the first five already. Anthropology was thrilling to him, the study of humans. He didn't know why, but he liked studying people. They were usually easy to read; humans were nothing but a bunch of clichés. They all claimed to be different, but they were all the same.
Puck skipped a few pages and continued reading until he heard the classroom door close, and a man walk inside. He froze in his seat. Wasn't sure why he was so tense, but he felt—something was off about the teacher. He recognized him, the lilting walk, and the musky, woods-like scent.
The teacher scanned the room and he looked at Puck most inquisitively and Puck just stared back, not knowing what to do. He just sat there and waited for his class to continue.
"Good morning, class. This is Sociology 101. Thanks for joining me. I know most of you, judging by the huge cups of coffee, probably want to go back to sleep. Believe me. Me too."
The voice wrapped around Puck and he just wanted to throw up, run away, and hide in his closet like those first few days when . . .
"So, I'm Mr. Puckerman, but you guys can call me, Jake."
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Puck set his head down, he felt odd, scared, sick. He wanted Kurt, wanted Kurt to save him from this, because he knew, he just knew that undoubtedly, he was going to make a mess of this.
Puck raised his hand, looking directly at Mr. Puckerman.
"Yes, Mr. . ."
"Puckerman," Puck offered, frowning when his teacher looked confused. "Puckerman. As in Noah. As in your son."
The class gasped and Mr. Puckerman looked shocked, but Puck just stood up, gathering his things before stopping by the teacher's desk. He refused to think of this man as his father. How could he? He'd grown up without him. They were practically unrelated. He didn't know about Quinn, or Beth, or Kurt. Kurt, the man he would give his life for. Mr. Puckerman didn't know about his baby sister, about his mother, about anything.
Puck shook his head. "Puck. You don't have the right to call me Noah."
"Right, Puck, I—"
"Save it. I'm dropping from the course." Puck shook his head as he walked out of the classroom, forgetting about the other courses he was supposed to attend, but decided maybe college wasn't for him. Kurt would be pissed—
Kurt. He needed his boy so badly; it was like a fire overtaking his entire body. He hadn't ever thought about what would happen if he had ever met his father after he left them. He wasn't sure what he would do. Hit him? Probably. Spout hurtful words of ugly hate? Definitely. Cry about it? He wasn't sure why, but he remembered that day, the one where Puck found his mother, broken down into sobs as he came home from school. She was guarding the front door, and he was standing there with his suitcases. Puck looked up at his father, whom he idolized and frowned.
"Where are you going Dad?" Puck asked. "Can I come?"
"No, son. You need to stay here and be strong for your mom and Allie. Can you do that?" Jake asked his son, kneeling down in front of him.
Puck, being only eight years old, shrugged and nodded. "Course, Dad. Where are you going, though?"
"I have to go out for a little while, but I'll be back soon," Jake answered him and Puck nodded.
"Cool. Why is Ma crying?"
"Because she did a bad thing and she feels bad for it."
Puck nods again. "Oh. But it's okay right?"
Jake doesn't make a sound, just an affirmative nod. "Promise me you'll be good, kid."
Puck nods. "When are you coming back?"
Jake doesn't look at Puck. "I don't know."
"Well, hurry, okay? I have a game on Saturday," Puck says smiling. "Coach put me as quarterback since Finn broke his arm."
Jake nods again ruffling Puck's curly, unruly hair, and Laura, Puck's mother, has left from her post at the door. Jake kisses Puck's forehead and leaves.
Puck goes up to his room to play video games. It's not an hour later that he realizes that he let his dad leave. That he let him walk out of the door, bags packed, not knowing if he was ever going to come back. It takes a few days for him to realize that he isn't.
Puck stops and turns to look at the owner of the voice, staring back at his father. "Puck, can we talk?"
"Don't you have class?" Puck bit back harshly, the venom in his voice unmistakable.
"I dismissed them early. I think—I think this is important," he mumbles, looking down at his feet.
"You left us. You left all three of us. Important or not, you're an asshole, and I don't want anything to do with you." Puck turned on his heel and walked away before Jake puts a hand on his shoulder.
He turned around, pulling back his arm and landing a punch to Jake's face, growling. People had gathered, and they were watching.
"Don't fucking touch me, you don't know anything about me."
Puck ran away then, waiting until he was outside to take a breath, to hold himself back from puking all over the sidewalk, from collapsing just from the surprise alone.
He walked away, still carrying his books, to Kurt's office, a few miles away from the campus and walked in, sweaty and scared and nervous. That Cassie chick was sitting at her desk, working on something when he walked up to her.
She smiled up at him. He smiled back weakly.
"Hey," she cheered, and Puck took in a breath.
"Any chance I can talk to Kurt?" Puck asked, and Cassie shook her head.
"He's in an important meeting with some agents. We're trying for Lea Michele on the cover in a few months. Not sure if we can get someone as busy as she is," Cassie teased. Puck smiled.
"You mind if I wait in his office?" Puck was itching to get away from her happiness, just wanting to curl up somewhere, wanting to forget about his unfortunate encounter with the one person he hated most in the world. So he looked down at Cassie and smiled. "Nevermind. Just tell him I came by to wish him luck and that I got out of class early if he wants to meet me for lunch at home."
Cassie flashes another winning smile. "Will do, loverboy. Get some rest—you look like you've seen a ghost."
He nods and walks away.
A ghost. Accurate description of his absent father, only to have him drop in like an unwanted pregnancy.
Fuck, he was. He was so fucked. What to do? Forgive him? Probably not considering he'd punched the shit out of him not too long ago. His hand ached a bit from the force, but Puck was numb. Inside, outside. He just couldn't feel anything.
Finally. It had been a long walk and he was more than exhausted. Bone-weary, tired, just completely out of it. The house was empty; not that he cared anyway. He just kicked of his shoes, tore off his clothes and climbed into bed. He closed his eyes and slept for a while.
"Any messages, Cass?"
Kurt came out of the conference room with a smile on his face. "We booked Lea for august. Can you freaking believe it?"
Cass cheered and hugged him. "All because of your amazing sales pitch I bet."
Kurt shrugged. "Messages?" Kurt presses Cassie and she nods.
"Puck came by. Looked like absolute shit. Said he'd gotten out of class early and would be home if you wanted to have lunch with him." Cassie lowered her voice. "Something was really wrong Kurt. I could see it all over him. Take the rest of the day off. I'll cover your calls and postpone meetings. Go."
Kurt smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Cass. I owe you one."
"Just let me am in the room the day of Lea's photo-shoot." She wagered.
Kurt nodded. "Done."
He rushed out faster than anything, but still wasn't fast enough. He jumped in his car and drove off, parking in the driveway and heading inside.
"Noah?" he called when he opened the front door. He was in the kitchen, dressed down to his boxers, drinking down a glass of water. Cass was right. He looked terrible, sick even.
"Baby, what's wrong?"
Puck shrugged. "I went to class and it turns out my father is my professor."
Kurt's absolutely floored by this. He takes Noah into his arms, and Puck doesn't let go of Kurt. He can't. Kurt was his one constant he could rely on. He needed Kurt. Now more than anything, especially since he rejected the father he's always wanted back.
"Come on. Let's go back to bed. We could both use some sleep. And if you want to talk about it when we wake up, we can. If not, I'll give you some space. Just know I'm still here," Kurt murmurs. He pulls Noah to the bedroom and undresses down to his underwear, climbing into sheets that smell just like Puck. He curls into Puck, this time, Puck wound tightly around him. Noah's asleep in seconds and so it Kurt, but not without wondering what he was going to do about his father. A big bomb yes, but would the rocky relationship they had, break Noah and Kurt apart?