A/N: Continuation of It only happens when they are drunk, Kurt will meet someone one day, and They never got out drinking anymore. This is the final part in this 'verse.
The doorbell rings on a quiet Tuesday afternoon. Puck pulls himself reluctantly from where he has face-planted on the couch, his body tired and weary, his limbs heavy as he forces them into motion. He shuffles over to the hallway, absently scratching his abdomen as he unlocks the door and pulls it open.
Kurt looks as tired as Puck feels. His eyes are red rimmed and his shoulders tense, but he breaks into a smile when he looks at Puck, a hopeful and pleading smile that pulls on Puck's heartstrings. There is a suitcase standing by his feet. Puck swallows hard. He will not allow himself to hope.
"Hi," Kurt says, softly, affectionately.
"Hey," Puck replies, hand tightening around the door handle for support.
Kurt draws a breath, releases some of the tension from his shoulders.
"I want the dates," he says and Puck blinks. "I want the house and the kids and I want the dog. I could certainly live without the fights and the Volvo, but I guess I could manage if you insist."
Kurt smiles at Puck's dumbfounded face: shame, hope and tentative happiness that only comes from a moment of clarity all rolled up into one in the curves of his lips.
"And I want it with you. If you'll still have me."
Puck blinks back burning tears and averts his eyes. The urge to throw himself into this, into Kurt is so tempting, but he can not allow it, for his own sake. Not yet.
"Blaine?" he asks, because he has to, and the name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
"I gave back the ring," Kurt begins and Puck's eyes flicker to his unadorned fingers. "I told him that I couldn't marry him, because I'm in love with someone else. With you."
It can not be real. It is too good to be real. But Kurt is standing right before him, feeling so real, so alive and vibrant and Puck begins to hope, he begins to dream.
"What?" he whispers, weak.
"I love you," Kurt replies without hesitating.
The relief that washes over him is so overwhelming that his knees buckle and Kurt is there, right there, in his arms, holding him tight, holding him on his feet, afloat. Puck chokes on his own breath, his face buried against Kurt's neck and he lets go of the door handle to cling to him, eyes shut tight. Kurt's arms are strong around him, supporting, not letting go.
A/N2: Thank you so much for reading this 'verse! Hope you enjoyed and if you have the time, please leave a review.