Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Glee
God. His voice was so fucking perfect. He could hit notes that challenged Rachel, yet he did it so fucking effortlessly. Well, it looked that way, anyway. Who knew? Maybe he sat at the piano for hours on end, getting those notes to work. Whatever. His voice was pure, and beautiful, and all that shit like that.
And it was like his voice was like light, like some pure light that was just out there, shining the way home. Except that that light would never shine for him. He knew what he was; he was a jock, a Lima Loser who had little to no chance of ever getting out of here, of ever getting anywhere. But, Kurt. Kurt was destined. Kurt was going somewhere, and was going to be someone. Yeah. Kurt was that light that showed up just to show you who was, and who was not. And he, Puck, was not.
Still, he had another year to circle around that light, to watch the others come close. Heh. Come. So he was a fucking teenager, live with it. What would he give to come close to Kurt. Well, whatever it was he would give, obviously it wasn't attention, because he just about ran the prettiest boy in school down. Nice one, Puck.
"Penny for your thoughts, Noah?" Kurt smirked.
Oh, what he could do with that. And that voice, smooth and, uh, creamy. God, anything. Except talk, it seemed. "Uh. No. I, I mean, well…"
He watched like an eagle as Kurt sidled up to him, still smirking that cheeky, sexy smirk. He thought about what he could do with that mouth, and completely missed whatever Kurt was saying. Oh, shit; the eyebrow. He swallowed. And now Kurt was touching him, hooking a finger into his collar, and pulling him down to his height.
"I said, Breadstix, eight o'clock. You're paying," Kurt added, and was that flirtatious look?
He straightened, having been let go by the smaller man. "Okay. Um. Why am I paying?"
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Because it's a date," he offered, smirking again.
"A date?" They were going on a date? When did that happen?
Kurt chuckled, and his eyes immediately focussed on those lips, and that open mouth. "Yes, Noah. A date." He tilted his head, then, and must have decided that Puck needed just a little bit more … encouragement. Kurt hooked his finger back into the collar, and pulled him down again, and pressed soft, hot, sinful lips to his mouth. He moaned. Or Kurt did, he wasn't quite sure, but one of them did moan, and, fuck if this wasn't better than he'd ever thought.
He dropped his bag and slid his arms around Kurt's lean waist, having decided to go for broke on this kiss. If this was a test drive, then he was going to give Kurt no reason whatsoever to give up just yet. When he finally let go, he couldn't help feeling a bit of pride (okay, a lot of pride) that the beautiful/pretty/sexy boy in front of him was licking his lips. He grinned. "Okay, then."
Kurt rolled his eyes, again, even if he was grinning. "Tonight, Breadstix, eight o'clock. And don't bother being early, because, Lord knows, I won't be."
He picked up his bag, and stood there, feeling dazed. He was in the light. And who cared that it was so fucking bright. He was here, and Kurt's light was on him. It was the place to be.