Even Noah Puckerman's mother can't explain what had gone wrong with her son. Maybe it was because he was born feet first, or his father bailed when he was too young to remember, or that one time when he was eight and witnessed a convenience store being robbed. There was a lot to examine, a lot to point the blame to, but no one could really put their finger on what it was that made him the way he is.
Things You Should Know About Noah Puckerman:
- He goes by Puck.
- He is very concerned about his hygiene.
- He taught himself how to play the guitar.
- He has been arrested four times.
- He has a secret.
Puck can't - or, more correctly, won't - tell anyone, either. He knows he's been angry for a long time and it coils in his chest like hot wires. He knows that drowning in the middle of a song is the only time those wires don't burn him. He knows that his life has been easier since he joined Glee Club.
He also knows some other things, but he doesn't think about them, and if he doesn't think about them, then they're not real thoughts. He always thought that the whole 'subconscious mind' theory was a stupid one. Besides, his own logic makes him feel better, and the only person he can talk to about anything serious is Mr. Schue, but there are some things that he just has to keep to himself, and Schue has a lot of fucked upness to deal with on his own.
Puck's calloused fingertips pluck at the strings of the guitar cradled in his lap. The sound reverberates through the belly. It lasts a long time and Puck lets it run its course until it's silent again. He runs his hands along the strings, his outer veins, the vessels that carry his voice out of him. Sometimes he wonders what he had done before music, and then he remembers that he broke the law a lot. Hell, even with music and being in Glee Club and going to rehearsals and practicing for sectionals - or regionals, or whatever part they were on now - Puck still managed to flirt with crime.
It's a sickness, he's sure. His dad was a criminal, too.
Things You Should Know About Puck's Dad:
- He left.
Puck is done being bitter about it because it's hard missing someone you didn't really know, but then he thinks about his baby and how he's not going to be a part of her life and he knows it's better this way, really, and it's not the same as what his dad did to him, but if angled in the right way, it is. At least to him. It makes him feel alone.
And that sucks. A lot.
But it's been a year and time does have a way of making things less sharp and less painful and easier. Puck's happy for his daughter. He know she'll have a better life than he could ever provide her, and that's enough to get him to sleep most nights.
Quinn had been a bitchy pregnant whale to deal with, but she's back to normal now. She's in her cheerleading uniform and Sam is humping her leg with his tongue sticking out and she doesn't need Puck, doesn't want him, and Rachel and Finn are emotionally chained together even if they're not actually together and he hasn't said a whole five words to Tina or Mike but they have each other, and Santana never has a shortage of anyone, including Brittany, and Kurt and Mercedes are best friends, so Puck's just kind of hovering among all of these intersecting lines, these relationships, and it's weird.
It just leaves Artie.
Puck smothers his face in his pillow.
Things You Should Know about Arthur 'Artie' Abrams:
- He's been in a wheelchair since he was eight.
- He can still use his penis.
- He can rap.
- He's tutoring Puck in geometry and it's actually working.
- Puck may or may not have a crush on him.
Which is even more weird than badass, criminal, football-playing, badboy, former-slushie-throwing Puckerman joining Glee Club. At least it made sense because he can sing and play guitar and he's not as good at dancing as Mike is, but he's better than Finn, and that's what's important. But liking Artie doesn't make sense because a) he's a boy and - wait, that's the only reason.
Puck has dated a lot of girls. And saying 'a lot' is an understatement. A ton. A googolplex. (Artie taught him that word - it's a number; one with one hundred zeroes after it.) And he likes girls. He likes tall girls and short girls and girls with big curves and none and dark and light girls and girls with long hair and short hair and boobs like Santana's and boobs like Amy Winter's whose boobs barely filled an A cup and girls with braces or freckles - the word 'pretty' covers a wide range to Puck, which makes him different, but at least everyone he has ever found to be pretty has been a girl.
It's not that Artie's pretty, not in the same sense that girls are pretty. He's cute. Puck cringes into the pillow. His glasses are cute, his smile is cute (albeit in a dorky way), his fashion sense is even worse than Rachel's which makes it cute, he has a cute laugh and the way he says 'yo' is cute and the way his arms wave around when he raps is cute and -
It's all very confusing for Puck.
He pushes his guitar on the other side of the bed before tearing the blankets over him. He wishes he were attracted to objects so he could just marry his guitar and not have to worry about intersecting lines anymore, or getting tangled in them, wrapped and woven and lost in them, because Puck has a shit sense of direction.
Puck goes to Artie's house to study because it's nicer there than his own. It smells like lemon pledge and Artie's parents are kind to him despite his criminal record. Artie's mom even stopped hiding her jewelry when he came over, at Artie's insistence.
The house is all one floor with wide hallways and doorways big enough for Artie's wheelchair. All of the tables and couches are low enough so Artie can climb on and off of them, and even though Puck and his parents are always offering to help him, he never accepts. He's built up a lot of strength in those arms of his - Puck knows, because he's seen the muscles flexing beneath his skin when he lifts himself in and out of his chair.
Which makes him feel weird but he does it anyway.
They study in Artie's room. It's a large space with the biggest computer he's ever seen resting on an oak chest off to one side. There's a bookshelf, which Puck runs his fingers across for the thousandth time - a lot of the titles are science-y, like Time and Space by Some Smart Dead Guy and Math and the Soul by Some Smart Living Woman and so on. Artie already has Puck's geometry book open with a notebook and a pencil and a calculator that Artie bought for him. His name is written on the back of it in black marker. Artie wrote it.
"Do you think that you'll ever move away from Lima?" Puck sits in the desk chair and watches Artie, who does that thing with the knuckles of his first and second finger to adjust his glasses - it's a habit that Puck is sure Artie isn't aware of, but it's cute, and Puck's afraid if he mentions it, the boy will stop doing it.
Things You Should Know About Lima, Ohio:
- It's a shit dump.
- Everyone hates it, even the people who are supposed to be proud of it. Like the mayor.
- Most everyone sucks.
- Someone spray painted the words 'go back' on the welcome sign outside of town.
"Of course I am. Aren't you?"
That's a nice thing to ask because most people just assume he's going to stay here - not because he wants to but because he won't be able to get out.
"I mean, you're going to be famous someday, for sure."
Puck snorts. "Yeah, on the most wanted list."
Artie lowers his pencil and his head cocks. "Puck." It's his concerned tone, his worried tone, and Puck is about ninety percent sure he shouldn't like that tone - or allow it - but he does and he does and he lets him use it all the time. "Don't talk like that."
"Just being honest. If I don't end up thrown in prison for life for something or other, I'll die on my way there." Puck runs his eyes over the math equations without really seeing them.
"Why are you so certain about that?" Artie sits back in his wheelchair and slowly plucks his gloves off of his fingers. He always wears them because the wheels are rough on his hands sometimes. Puck makes a mental note to push him more places so he doesn't have to wheel himself around as often.
"Because it's who I am."
"No it's not." Artie drops his gloves on the desk, once more pushing his knuckles under the rim of his glasses. It's such a rehearsed and yet subconscious movement and it makes the hot wires scalding Puck's insides feel cooler. "It's who everyone expects you to be. Haven't you learned anything from being a part of Glee Club?"
Things You Should Know About Glee Club:
- It's full of outcasts.
- It's full of talent.
- Rachel Berry thinks she owns it.
- Almost everyone hates everyone in Glee Club.
- Puck used to hate everyone in Glee Club.
Puck nods. "Sure I have. That singing and dancing makes people happy."
"And -" Artie's hand lands on Puck's wrist. Artie's hands are soft and warm and Puck thinks about how much Artie depends on them, how much they have to do to make up for the legs he has but don't work. "That you can be yourself. You don't have to cater to what everyone else thinks about you. For example." He motions to the array of math related ensemble around them. "Look at this, right now. You're at my house. You're studying. You have gotten at least an eighty percent on all of your assignments since we started studying together and it's all because you chose to. Who thought you could do this?"
"No one but me and you, man. So don't set yourself up for a life of crime, okay? Prison is not where you belong."
Puck presses his chin into the palm of his hand and studies Artie's eyes. They're blue and green. Puck's never been to the ocean but he's seen pictures, watched movies and stuff, and Artie's eyes kind of look like that perfect sea color. Puck says, "Thank you," and Artie smiles and then they're back to studying, and Artie has his teacher voice on and Puck is paying attention, really, not just to the words and the numbers, but to Artie's smile when Puck answers a question right, or says something funny, the way his eyes squeeze shut when he laughs, and the way his hand returns to Puck's wrist every now and again while he works, like he's trying reassure him that he's still there.
Puck is pushing Artie into the Glee room when Kurt grabs him by the elbow. If he had done such a thing even five or six months ago, Puck wouldn't have even blinked before punching him square in the mouth, because violence was his natural response to things like that.
But Puck isn't that Puck and he just raises his eyebrows and stops walking. Artie twists in his chair, looking up at them. "What's up, Kurt?"
"Can I talk to you in the hallway, Puck?" Kurt's considerably more slender and evenly plucked eyebrows are up, too.
Things You Should Know About Kurt Hummel:
- He is the gayest gay to have ever gayed.
- It's impossible to name a musical he hasn't watched.
- He's always dressed like he's going to Fashion Week.
- Puck used to throw him into dumpsters.
Puck looks down at Artie, who shrugs and rolls into the room. Puck's hands linger in the air where Artie's handlebars would have been for a moment longer before turning back to Kurt. The two step out into the still bustling hallway, packed loud with noise and people and locker doors opening and closing.
Kurt cocks on one hip. His arms cross. It's a lot like how Puck's mom looks when she's about to yell at him, so Puck scans quickly through the log in his head to try and find anything he's done wrong lately. For once, he can't come up with anything. He got Artie off the bus and had been with him through most of the day, only being apart when they were in different classes. He even held the door open for a teacher that afternoon. What was there to yell at him about?
"Spill it." Kurt's eyebrows are like little people. They express emotions that Puck doesn't even know the names of.
Kurt doesn't look amused. His eyes dart toward the open Glee room door. "You know."
"You have the same look in your eye that I did when I first started liking Finn. Which I don't anymore, thank you very much. But you can trust me, okay? Because I've been here." He spreads his hands like 'here' is a physical thing. "I know what you're going through and I just want you to know you're not alone."
Puck blinks. "Kurt, are you speaking in some gay language I don't know?"
That doesn't make him laugh. He can't help but think that Artie would have thought it was funny.
"If I was, you'd be just as fluent as me." Kurt points in the classroom. "I'm not blind, Puck. I've seen the way you look at Artie."
"Dude." Puck raises his hands palms out. "This is really, really rude, you know?" He says it calmly but his heart is all tweaking and weird in his chest and if he wasn't pretty certain he didn't have a condition, he would have been convinced he was about to die. "Isn't it kind of, like, against the gay code to go assuming someone else's sexuality?"
Kurt's eyes narrow - not angrily, but thoughtfully. He takes a deep breath and then shakes his head. "I'm sorry. It is - I'm being rude, I know, and I'm stepping over boundaries, and I'm sorry. It's just -" His lower lip sucks between his teeth. He looks at Artie. He looks at Puck. "I'm the only gay kid here, you know? And I saw the way you look at Artie and talk to him and treat him like he's so special to you, I just thought ... I got excited about not being alone at McKinley anymore."
One Other Thing You Should Know About Kurt Hummel That Puck Has Just Realized:
- He is very lonely.
It makes Puck sad, which isn't an emotion he likes, especially if there's no music to make it seem less real and more like a movie, something he can detach from. "Kurt ..." He's good with lyrics but not regular words, words that can make people feel better. So he just stands there and reaches out and touches Kurt's arm and he doesn't want the boy to cry because he's terrible at comfort. And then he takes a deep breath and steps close, out of the doorway of the room, but still in full view of everyone else, because he doesn't care what they think.
"Look, if you tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, I will take all of your fancy boots and burn them. Got that?"
Kurt's eyes are wide. He nods.
Puck steps back. He leans to one side to peek through the door. Artie is talking with Mercedes. They're laughing. Artie's eyes are squeezed shut and Puck kind of smiles.
He turns back to Kurt. "I - I think I like Artie. But I'm not sure. Maybe it's just because he's been helping me so much with math. I don't know. But I'm not gay, Kurt. I like chicks."
Puck pauses, but just for a moment. "And Artie. But that does not leave your mouth, okay?"
Kurt looks relieved. He looks happy, even hopeful, and it touches the hot wires in Puck, makes at least a few of them not seem so scalding. "I promise. And if it means anything ..." He smiles and a dainty hand touches Puck's shoulder. "Artie looks at you the same way." He gives Puck a gentle pat. "You can trust me."
Puck nods. He knows he can, but now that he's said the words, that makes them real, and the thoughts real, and the subconscious real, and it's all very scary to him, so when he sits down in a chair beside Artie, he doesn't say anything and he's grateful Artie doesn't ask. He doesn't like feeling frightened because it's not macho, it's not manly, it's definitely not cool, and despite joining Glee Club and hanging out with a bunch of weirdos, Puck still cares about that kind of thing.
Things That Puck Will Admit He Is Afraid Of:
Things That Puck Is Actually Afraid Of:
- Roller coasters that go upside down.
- Fire ants.
When class is over, and Puck's throat is tight from singing, he wheels Artie to his Biology class, but doesn't say much along the way. Artie doesn't press him, but his eyes are worried, rippling little oceans that Puck ignores. He makes up an excuse at the door to Artie's class about why he has to go home. He hates lying - to Artie, especially, because he looks so hurt by the thought of Puck not being there when they've spent so much time together in the past few weeks. But Puck needs to get out of there, away from Artie, to put his thoughts in order. This school, this town, these people, they're heating the wires, fogging up his thoughts, and he just needs his bedroom and his guitar and music. So he grabs his backpack and doesn't tell anyone else where he's going and makes his way to the front doors. It's bad, he knows, and Artie would frown upon it, and his teachers are probably going to yell at him for it tomorrow, but if Puck is anything, it's apathetic to shit like consequences.
But he runs into Santana. Or, Santana runs into him.
Things You Should Know About Santana Lopez:
- She smells like coconuts and anger.
- She once broke a football player's nose when he slapped her ass on the field.
- Puck has had sex with her a lot.
- She is also on the list of things Puck is actually afraid of.
"Where are you going?"
"Home." Puck tries to walk around her. Santana slips in front of him.
"Hm. You should change your mind." Her foot kicks past him, nudging open a door. It's an empty classroom. Puck's never had a class in it, but he's messed around in there a lot. He's learned stuff, so it's served its purpose, at least.
Puck stares at the empty, dark room. He looks at Santana. Her eyes are dark. Soil, earth, chocolate - and he wishes they were blue and green and framed by glasses.
Number Of Times Puck Has Declined Making Out With Someone:
Santana doesn't wait for an answer. She takes him by the collar and swings the door shut behind him with a flick of her wrist. Puck's hands find her narrow waist beneath the red of her uniform because he's done this a hundred times and he knows where and how to touch her. Her lips are plump and hot on his jaw, but he doesn't know what he wants, what part of his body he's supposed to be listening to.
Santana kisses him. And then she kisses him again, her back against an empty desk, hands on Puck's chest.
And then she pulls back and stares up at him. "Excuse me? Am I getting my freak on with a mannequin?"
Puck blinks. This is weird. This is really weird. Usually he's all up for making out with chicks. He's done it his whole life. And Santana's really good at it. His hands drop from Santana and hang at his sides.
"Can I go now?"
Santana's arms cross. She pushes off of the desk and narrows her eyes at him. "What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing." Puck shrugs and swings a foot backward, toward the door.
"Woah, woah, hold on." She cocks on her hip. Puck wonders if this is a some kind of universal body language for 'shut the fuck up and listen'. "Any other day of the year, you're dry humping me, and all of the sudden you're standing there like a goddamn mummy when I'm practically throwing myself on you?"
Puck doesn't know what to say other than, "I like someone", but he didn't plan to say it, it just kind of fell out of his mouth.
Santana's eyebrows twist and knot over her forehead. "Uhm, hello? You like me. You want to get down with me. This is how we work, Puckerman."
"You're not my girlfriend. And I actually - I really like someone."
The cheerleader rolls her eyes. "Really? Okay. Fine. Whatever? Who is she? Does she put out more often than I do? Is that it?"
Puck shakes his head. He opens the classroom door and steps out, only to pause halfway. He looks back at her, twisting his own eyebrows. "You and Brittany make out a lot, don't you?"
Santana presses a hand to the side of her face. "You've seen us make out, Puck."
"Yeah, but do you just do it when people are watching?"
Santana's hand lowers to smack against her thigh. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Are you straight?"
Other Things You Should Know About Santana Lopez:
- Her best friend is Brittany.
- She is extremely nice to Brittany.
- Santana isn't nice to anyone.
Puck's eyebrows clear when Santana doesn't say anything but broken fragments of words and stuttering breaths. "You're not, are you? You're totally not straight." Puck wonders just how many other not-straight people that are in this school that he doesn't know about, hasn't met, and he wonders what he would say to them, or what he would want to hear.
Santana is shaking her head. "This is ridiculous, Puck, why are you even - why do you care? What does it matter to you if I'm - if I'm straight or not?"
Puck shrugs. He leans against the doorway of the room. "Artie told me that we can be ourselves if we choose to. I just, you know, wonder if you're being yourself, or what everyone wants you to be."
Santana's scowl smooths out. She straightens her hip, looks away, crosses and uncrosses her arms. "I like someone, too," she finally says, and this is the first time Puck has seen her look so soft. And then she shakes her head and laughs into her hand but it sounds more scared than funny. "This is so fucking weird."
He leaves her there and walks home. The Lima sky is a bright blue spotted with white.
Puck drowns out the sounds of his fears with his guitar until his fingers hurt so much he can't play anymore. And then he just keeps singing the same song over and over and the lyrics engrave themselves in the wires in his chest.
Puck and Santana don't look at each other for four days. Puck can barely look at Artie anymore, and he skips their next study session with another lie that makes Artie's eyes dim. He stops pushing him to class. He stops sitting next to him during Glee. He puts as much distance as possible between them and tries to watch girls like he used to, except he's distracted both by Artie plucking at his sweater vest and Santana ignoring Brittany.
Schue is talking about something, but when music isn't playing, Puck doesn't pay attention, so he's zoning out on the ceiling when Kurt slams his elbow into his side. Puck scowls at him, shifting away, putting his eyes on their teacher without hearing anything he's saying.
"What's wrong with you two?" His whisper is quiet and coarse.
"Oh, don't lie to me."
"I said nothing."
Kurt's elbow - which is surprisingly pointy - rams into his side again. "You're avoiding Artie. Don't you see how much you're hurting him?"
Puck's eyes drift to Artie. He's listening to Schue, but his lips are pressed into a frown. Puck thinks about Artie's subconscious, about what it might be thinking about. Who stars in Artie's dreams?
Puck leans toward Kurt. "I don't even know if he likes dudes, let alone me, and I'm not going to ask."
"You don't have to. I know the way he looks at you. Trust me, my gaydar does not fail."
"Really?" Puck twists to him. "So, do you know about Santana?"
He says it louder than he means to. Santana and Brittany both turn to assess them. Mr. Schue throws his chin up at them.
"Do you guys mind?"
"Sorry, Mr. Schue." Kurt flashes a smile, but as soon as their attention is diverted, he lowers his voice again. "Yes, I do. That girl is almost as gay as I am, and that's not something I say lightly."
"They why aren't you bugging her about it?"
"Who says I'm not?"
Puck runs a hand over his mohawk. "What are you, some kind of gay guru matchmaker?" He sighs, hands falling in his lap. "I don't know what you want me to do."
"I want you to stop being someone you're not."
He looks at Kurt. What is it with these Glee boys, spewing out these pearls of wisdom? Puck takes a deep breath and lets it out slow and loud, his head falling back against the chair. "This is all sucky and confusing."
Kurt gives a huff of a laugh. "Welcome to my life." He touches Puck's arm. "You're not alone, okay? Neither is Santana."
"Are there more people like you - us, in this school?"
Kurt is beaming. "Oh, you bet."
Things Puck Is Not Good At:
- Talking about feelings.
He opens the door after he gets no answer. Artie is at his desk with a book open, his headphones bulging over his ears. Music pumps faintly from them. Puck sets his guitar by the door and walks slowly across the room, placing two fingers on Artie's shoulder. He was trying to be as gentle as possible but Artie jumps anyway, ripping his headphones off and looking up at Puck with his mouth open.
"Your mom let me in." Puck sits on the desk chair beside Artie, like it had been waiting for him to return this whole time. They're almost at eye-level here. "Dude, I'm sorry for ignoring you."
Artie sets his pencil down. His gloves are on the desk and he rubs his palms together in his lap. "Did I do something or ...?"
"No, no. You didn't do anything. I was being stupid. Not who I want to be." He looks away. "Kurt's been helping me out a lot, even Santana, and what I was learning was kind of freaking me out, so I just ... tried to push it away, but ..." Puck's hands open on his lap. "But I don't want to anymore."
"Are you okay?"
Puck takes a deep breath. "Right now? Yeah. I'm good. I just, I'm not good at this ... girly stuff, so I'm going to sing it instead." He frowns. "Which is even girlier, but it's easier. For me."
Artie's smiling. "Sing what?"
Puck holds up a finger. He crosses the room, picks up his guitar, and smooths his hand down the strings. Perching back on the desk chair, Puck sucks in a breath before the first note - he knows this song, it's all he's been singing for a long time without really knowing it, his subconscious has put it as the soundtrack to his dreams. Which kind of freaks him out, and is further convincing him that the subconscious is actually a real thing. And maybe not as stupid as he thought.
I'm sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream
And all at once I wake up
From something that keeps knocking from my brain
Before I go insane I hold my pillow to my head
And spring up in my bed screaming out the words I dread
I think I love you.
Puck doesn't look up. The music cools his hot wires. His confusion fizzles away, there's no anger, and the things he is afraid of seem like something he should conquer instead of cower away from. Because Artie believes in him - he convinced Puck not to run away, he helped him raise his grade in geometry, he became the closest friend he's ever had.
But this isn't just friendship. This isn't just liking Artie. This is about how he thinks Artie is cute when he smiles, how his eyes squeeze when he laughs, the way he looks at Puck, like he's not his father, not a failure, not a criminal. He's just Puck for once.
I think I love you
So what am I so afraid of?
I'm afraid that I'm not sure of
A love there is no cure for.
Puck doesn't care that Artie can't walk. He'll just carry him. He doesn't care that Artie isn't considered a 'cool' kid in high school. Glee Club has taught him that stuff like that doesn't and shouldn't matter.
And most of all, he doesn't care that Artie is a boy, because there are millions of people just like him and Kurt and Santana and he's not alone.
They're not alone.
Do you think you love me?
I think I love you.
The song ends. The guitar hums against his lap. He silences it with his palm, chews his lips, and looks up.
And Artie is crying.
Puck flings the guitar to the floor, scooting off of the chair and onto his knees. His thumbs wipe away Artie's tears, knocking his glasses off of his nose. Artie's shaking his head as much as he can between Puck's hands. Puck is saying "I'm sorry" over and over, a chant, because the last thing he wanted was to make Artie cry, and he sucks at comforting people, sucks at emotions, sucks at building bridges.
But Artie's smiling. He's crying and smiling and fixing his glasses with his knuckles when Puck finally puts his hands on the rests of Artie's wheelchair. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Artie nods. "I just, that wasn't, I didn't - I wasn't expecting -" He takes a deep breath that shudders in his chest before he lets it out. "Was that true?"
Puck swallows and nods. "Yeah, man. That's why I've been avoiding you. I was scared, you know?"
"I know." Artie smiles down at his hands. "I'm scared, too. I don't exactly want to be a gay cripple."
Puck shakes his head. "You don't have to be with me - I just wanted you to know. That's all."
"But I do." Artie's eyes flick up at him. Waves on the shore. "Want to be with you, I mean. Just not ... not public. Not yet. Not with guys like Karofsky lugging around like apes."
"I'd protect you."
"You can't be with me all the time."
"I'd like to be."
Artie's cheeks flare red. It makes Puck's lips press into a smirk.
"This is all very improbable, you know. That someone like you would ... like someone like me."
Puck reaches out. His fingers touch Artie's cheek. It's damp from crying and warm from his blush. "I'm all about breaking the laws of society."
"Oh, so philosophical, Puck."
Puck kisses him. It's soft and slow and easy, and Artie's lips are warm and thin, his hands trembling on Puck's neck. He's never kissed a boy before, but he tries not to think of it like that - he's not kissing a boy, he's kissing Artie, and it's just chance that he's a boy.
Wires unwind in him and frost over.
Things Puck Is Good At:
It isn't the next day. It isn't even within the same month, or the same school year. It's the beginning of the next one when Puck surprises Artie by kissing him outside of his classroom, in front of everyone. Schue. Karofsky. Sue. Santana. Kurt. (Who shamelessly claps).
Walking away from his stunned boyfriend, Puck spies Santana kissing Brittany on the cheek, and they're both smiling.
People Who Are Not Alone:
A/N: This is my first Glee fic. You're probably wondering why it's for one of the more obscure pairings. So am I.
Also this format is new to me, but it was really fun to write.
I hope you enjoyed it. I know it's long. I didn't plan for it to be. I didn't plan for any of this, really. Just kind of ... came out of me.
The song is "I Think I Love You" by the Partridge Family, by the by. I own nothing.