Puck sat, his legs folded under him, and game controller clutched in his hand. His face was set in termination as his fingers moved from button to button with advanced skill. Shoot, run, shoot again. He pressed down on the buttons, and smiled in victory when the bigger boy next to him groaned in frustration. "Puck, how come you always win?"
"No one can beat the Puckzilla, Finn," Puck replied, laying his controller onto the edge of the bed, next to where he sat. They had gathered in Finn's room: Finn, Puck, Mike, Sam, Artie, and, surprisingly, Santana playing video games, eating pizza, and lately, talking about each others love lives.
"Tina's been so caught up in glee, it's really affecting us," Mike had been saying. Puck didn't really care about their love lives, and he didn't mean that in a mean way, but for the first time, he didn't have any problems in that department, so why did he need to hear about the others?
"I think we should give Kurt a controller," Sam said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I bet you Puck wouldn't have the heart to beat him."
"You know what? Sam, that's a great idea, KURT!" Finn yelled for his brother, laughing along with the others at Puck's clear discomfort.
"Stop it guys, and besides, Kurt's at the mall. He can't play." Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, the others burst out laughing, mumbling things like "Whipped."
"So Kurt let you off your leash long enough for you to play with us? How nice," Santana teased. Puck whipped around and glared at her, but she just smiled in return. "You know, I thought it was odd he wasn't in here, I bet you he'd put on his old uniform and be your cheer leader." Puck didn't find any problem with that thought...
"Well what about Brittany? You can't tell me you wouldn't do anything for that girl. She'd cry if you didn't," Puck shot back. Santana frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "Or Tina," He added, glaring at Mike. "Or Mercedes, Or even Rachel." By the time he went around the room, everyone had shut up.
Puck's rant was cut short by the door swinging open. Everyone turned, Kurt stood where the door had moments ago been closed, he leaned up against the frame and looked at the TV curiously. The screen had been paused with Puck's character mid-victory-jump. 'Winner' was written on player two's side, loser on Finn's. Blood was everywhere, and guns were clutched in their hands.
"Kurt?" Finn asked. Kurt tore his gaze from the screen and it landed on his brother. Finn had his head cocked to the side, staring at Kurt in confusion.
"Brittany mention something about dancing unicorns and glitter, I don't know, but, apparently, that reminds Rachel of Regionals, and now she's convinced we're going to lose, and she's crying in my room. Normally I'd be fine, she cries a lot, but she's burying her face in my pillows and ruining my sheets, so you need to get your girlfriend out of my room." Finn frowned, scrunching his eyebrows together.
"How does that remind her of Regionals?" Sam asked, blinking. Kurt shrugged.
"Don't ask me," Kurt said. "Go ask Rachel, and while you're at it, get her out of my room."
"Why don't you help her?" Finn asked, standing up and straightening his clothes.
"For the same reason you're not in there right now. Her crying is annoying." Kurt looked down at his nails, annoyance written across his face. "Besides, I didn't make her cry, Brittany did."
"But neither did I," Finn whined.
"But you're her boyfriend, that makes you automatically responsible for making her stop. And if her tears ruin all my sheets, you will pay for them, so I suggest you go." Finn stood, narrowing his eyes at Kurt.
"But you're her best friend."
"Unfortunately," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "Yes, I'm her best friend, which means if you are no where to be found, or you're the one who made her cry, I have to deal with it, but, seeing as you have not made her cry, and you are so conveniently here, you can deal with your girlfriend." Finn frowned and pushed past Kurt, grumbling.
"This was suppose to be my guys day."
Kurt smiled, turning to leave. He seemed to think of something and turned around. "Hi Noah."
"Hey babe," Puck replied.
"So you won?" Kurt asked, gesturing to the screen.
"Yup. You guys made Berry cry?" Puck raised an eyebrow. Kurt sighed.
"Who hasn't?" Puck laughed. He heard a few others chuckle too. "Okay, have fun." And with that, Kurt walked away. Puck watched him go, the swing of Kurt's hips.
Out of everyone Puck could have picked, he's glad he has Kurt. And deep down, he knows, he won more than one game.
But then again, when it comes to Kurt, there's no competition.
A/N: A little cheesy. And a tad bit random, but I like it. It makes me insanely happy when you review too, just so you know. Also, if you've come to realize that all of my stories that I've been writing recently, with the exception of my future fic ones, have Puck's artistic skills in common, that's on purpose, they're all connect. Just thought I'd share.