Disclaimer: I'm not a rich bitch, I don't own Glee.
A/N: It's been forever since I wrote angst, so I hope this turned out well. My wonderful beta (ricaresinrp on LJ) assured me it was good but I'm nervous still. Anyway, the song used is "Kiss You Off" by Scissor Sisters. Enjoy!
The door sounded loud, echoing in the stale air as Puck entered the boys bathroom. He'd needed to get away for a bit, just think and breath and not feel the need to punch someone and run and hide at the same time.
Damn juvie did a number on him, he knew it.
He hated it.
Kicking the wall, he took some deep breaths, the rushing in his ears was dying down. He was okay. Sure, his plan of helping the Wheelchair Kid backfired some but he hadn't even been sure he'd be able to get away with the fake community service. And maybe picking up trash on the side of the road wouldn't be to bad. It's still nice weather out and he could easily get hot from the sun and take off his shirt. Surely some nice women would notice him and want to sex him.
Even though his one nipple was all sorts of wrong now from when they pulled out his piercing.
His mom would tell him to look on the bright side: he's still got one perfectly fine nipple.
Leaning against a wall that may have never been cleaned, Puck was surprised that he wasn't the only one in the grungy bathroom. At first, Puck wondered why Hummel hadn't said anything, either sneered or tried to have a heart-to-heart. He wasn't sure which the other teen would've tried. Most of the others had at least attempted a to get an emotional response, after seeing a point where his mask faltered.
Where he showed them that he wasn't as okay as he wanted them to think.
Of course, Wheelchair Kid knew the most. But it seemed as if he wasn't blabbing about everything to everyone. And Abrams pushed for that heart-to-heart, with the others, they'd try and he'd push them back. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want them to know. He just didn't want.
Puck knew he probably wouldn't survive if he'd get thrown back in. And he really didn't like knowing that. He was Puckzilla - he was supposed to rule wherever he was. That didn't go as planned. At all. Hell, he still had some light bruising from the guys from juvie. He hated them. He hated how they made him feel.
Weak.
Defenseless.
Useless.
The crashing sound made Puck look at Hummel. He was dumping stuff out of his man-purse. Humming to a song that was clearly blasting from his iPod, not noticing or being able to hear Puck in the room, he straightened out what'd fallen from his bag. Puck watched as he read labels of his own shit and then proceed to lift up his shirt.
"But you're the one whose color's gone from love to dirty gray." Hummel's voice surrounded Puck in the empty bathroom, light and unbothered.
His voice shouldn't have been light and unbothered.
Hummel's stomach was all harsh and flat planes. Puck could easily see when he took a breath, when it was even and slow or when it hitched. He saw how his muscles moved when Hummel would lean forward to grab something from his pile of shit. Swallowing, Puck was horrified to see the dark splotches of color that marred his otherwise pale skin. "Watch me start a fire in the middle of your shade. That's why I'm telling you I'm gonna-"
Hummel had some sort of cream on his fingers and when they touched the flat expanse of his stomach, his breath hitched, "Cold. Cold, cold, cold." His hand started to move in a circle, around the bruising, "I don't need another tube of that dime store lipstick. Well I think I'm gonna buy me a brand new shade of man." When he was done with whatever cream he'd been putting on his bruises he frowned at himself in the mirror. Doing a quick spinning move, Hummel's back was reflected as he lifted up the back of his shirt this time.
Puck joined in with the frowning. Hummel's back was one large bruise. He couldn't see how far down it went, going past his pants line. Dark, angry colors that painted a clear picture of how bad the bullying was. It looked painful. It looked like he shouldn't be able to move as freely as he did. When Puck had been jumped at juvie, he'd barely been able to move. The bruises from being beat up on was different than those gotten while playing football. They hurt a lot more for one thing.
The pain wasn't a reminder of a sense of accomplishment, but of fear.
"It's standing room only for a piece of my pigment, so excuse me a minute while I supply demand." More of the cream was on his hand and Puck watched as Hummel tried to get to all of his back. He was clearly having trouble. Finally showing some signs that the bruising was hurting him, he covered as much as he could. His voice never wavered while he sang whatever song that was. When he'd gotten as much as he could by himself, Hummel closed the cream and tucked his shirt back into his freakishly tight pants.
And Puck might've looked as much as he could at where Hummel's pants met shirt by using the mirror. Raising his eyebrows, he wondered if he'd seen wrong when he couldn't see any coloring other than skin below the pants. Tilting his head, Puck studied Hummel's ass. The pants were sinfully tight. If Hummel was wearing any kind of underwear it'd probably show up. Dude was going commando. And probably on a daily basis.
Well, if that wasn't all sorts of interesting.
It was then that Hummel leaned forward to look in the mirror at his face. Pulling at the skin right below his left eye, he stuck out his tongue before glaring at himself. "Kiss you off these lips of mine," He looked pointedly at his lips, Puck followed suit and finally took a good look at Hummel's face. Studied it. Around his eyes was dark, it appeared as if most of it was from a lack of sleep. He had some lines around them, which were also found around his mouth. His face looked tight, like he was far too stressed. Hummel's hands reached up to his lips and touched the bottom one, a small cut was there, as if someone had punch him and split his lip. Or possibly Hummel just had really dry lips and it cracked.
Puck rolled his eyes, of course that wasn't possible. Hummel wouldn't allow himself to have dry lips that would split and break. It was from a punch or something much like it. "Kiss you off for a custom shine, pissed yours truly off this time. It's why I ain't just kissin' you, I'm kissin' you off."
Whatever was going on with Hummel could be serious. It was almost like his whole body was a big bruise. The bullying had to be getting worse and Puck felt himself get worried. He didn't want something bad to happen to Hummel. He wasn't sure if what was happening to the other teen was worse or better than what happened to Puck; he hoped for better than. He didn't want Hummel to deal with some weird equivalent of having a nipple ring tore out.
Grabbing a small tube of something, Hummel got some sort of cream out of it and used his finger tip to apply some around his eyes. "Spare this child your sideways smile, that crack in your veneer." He rolled his eyes. When he sang out the last verse, it wasn't as much sang as it was spit out. As if he knew about cracks in veneer. It sounded like either his own layers and masks splintered or someone else's had.
He then took something else from his shit around the sink and put it over his eyes. Puck was surprised that after the little bit of make-up he applied, Hummel's dark eyes didn't look dark anymore. Neither did they look like they had the make-up. It was natural. And he'd done it in a few seconds, as if he was used to covering up colored spots that appeared on his skin. From covering bruises and dark circles it seemed.
"Kiss you off my lips." Hummel's focus was now on his lips. Using what looked like a paint brush, he got some skin color and painted around the split in his lip. The faint discoloring disappearing, "I don't need another tube of that dime store lipstick." Grabbing another brush, he worked on his actual lip, the small cut was slowly fading. "Well, I'm gonna buy me a brand new shade of man."
Hummel stood back from the mirror and looked himself over. Puck had to give it to him; he looked normal. Good, even. Hummel gave himself a lopsided smile and nodded to himself, apparently agreeing with Puck's thoughts.
Puck had an uneasy feeling with how practiced it was for Hummel to cover up bruises and how many he had. Puck wanted to make it so that he wouldn't have to put make-up on. He didn't like how well Hummel could put on the cosmetics and have it appear as if he didn't have any. If Puck hadn't seen him do the deed, he wouldn't have known there was any.
He wanted to protect Hummel.
And Puck knew that his morals were skewed. Because while watching Hummel sing and fix his appearance, he decided he wouldn't mind tapping that. Puck relied on sex. It was very clear, even to the shrink he'd got since juvie and since yelling at Figgins, Schue and the social worker about how none of them cared about him. That no one cared about him.
Puck knew he wanted someone to care about him.
And he could bet that Hummel wanted someone to care about him too.
If they tried something, even if it was just fucking, they might feel cared about. Then again, it just might make Puck feel more worthless. And chances are, it'd be the same with Hummel. He couldn't be sure until he tried it. They could help fix one another, and they might wreck themselves more.
Puck was impulsive, he knew that. Which was why he decided to go for it.
"It's standing room only for a piece of my pigment, so excuse me while I supply deman - Puck?" Hummel asked when he saw the other teen in the mirror behind him. Hummel turned around, taking out his headphones, mouth parted and Puck met Hummel with a kiss.
It didn't last long.
Puck got shoved back and Hummel's mouth was in a frown. "What the hell? Why are people suddenly stealing kisses from me? And do they all have to be people who have thrown me in dumpsters?" He turned to look at himself in the mirror, "And now the cut on my lips is showing again. Thank you, Puck." His tone was forceful and harsh.
"I - people? Who else?" Puck asked, reaching down and putting a hand on Hummel's shoulder.
Hummel recoiled slightly, but his shoulder was still in Puck's grasp. "It doesn't matter."
"You said it was someone who used to throw you in a dumpster." Puck said, "Is it Hudson? Did he kiss you?"
"Don't be stupid." Hummel glared, "Not only is he secretly scared of me and my powers to make people gay, but I wouldn't let him touch me with a ten foot pole." He paused and then with a tilt to his tone said, "Not that I wanted to be touched by you or the other guy." He shivered some, "Though I have to say you seem to be handling this better." A calculating gaze fell on Puck, "Unless you're going to start knocking me into lockers too."
"What? No." Puck said, taking a step back, horrified at the idea. "He - whoever he is, does he? Is your split lip from him shoving you into a locker?"
Hummel didn't answer, but he snorted. "It's none of your business, Puckerman." Just then Hummel's cell went off. It was girl singing about skintight jeans and teenage dreams. Glaring at Puck, Hummel grabbed his phone and glanced at the text before sighing and muttering to himself, "No matter how much I like him, I'm getting tired of his cryptic texts."
Puck's brow furrowed, "Is he the one who-?"
"No. Don't be stupid." Hummel repeated his earlier statement, "He won't talk to me at all. It's just a friend, Puckerman. Don't be all territorial since you apparently think I belong to you."
Puck ducked his head, because he had thought that Hummel could belong to him. "So, you have a friend. He must not go to this school, if he's texting you." He looked at Hummel hard, "Is it one of those guys from that school you spied on? You came back saying that they were nice. You made friends with the enemy." He pointed, "I bet it's more than friends, isn't it? You fucking him? That why you pushed me away? Because no one pushes Puckzilla away when he's kissing them."
"God," Hummel ground out, "Why do people think that two gay guys can't just be friends? I am not fucking him Puckerman and I pushed you away because I'm tired of jerks kissing me. I'm tired of being shoved and bruised. I'm tired of Finn trying to control my life and tell me who I can and cannot converse with. I'm tired of my dad fighting me, him wanting to get better but not willing to give up eating food he shouldn't. I'm tired of Carole trying to be my mom. I'm tired of Quinn and Mercedes still working to get me to believe in God, of Artie complaining about how he loves Tina and how Britt took his virginity and how he hates her but now loves her, of Schue and Pillsbury suddenly worried that I'm going to kill myself and I'm tired of Blaine's obscure, one or two word texts that used to be helpful but now seem to be making me feel incompetent."
Puck swallowed and Hummel looked angry with himself for saying all of that. "Hummel - Kurt." He said slowly, "I had no idea that all of that was happening."
Kurt rolled his eyes, "You've had your own problems, besides we've never really been much of friends." He pursed his lips, "Though apparently you kissed me anyway."
"My kiss was better than the other dude's right?" Puck asked.
Kurt barked out a chuckle, "By only a little."
"I'll take that as a win." Puck smirked.
"You would." Kurt agreed with a nod.
"Listen, Kurt," Puck said, "If you ever need to talk-"
"You're there for me?" Kurt sneered.
"I wasn't gonna say that." Puck said, "I know a shrink. Better than the clean freak we have at the school. I'm only here for you if you wanna make out or something along those lines."
Kurt snorted, "Of course. Fix it with sex." He gave Puck a small smile, "Thanks for being honest."
"I don't do feelings and shit. I have trouble talking to the shrink they assigned me, and I'm pretty fucked up. No way I could help you. But I can help take your mind off all the stuff you're tired of." He shrugged.
"And in turn I'd be helping you forget the stuff you're tired of." Kurt said and when Puck gave him a look, he continued, "You said you were seeing a shrink and I mean, you went and took money from an ATM. It doesn't take Sherlock to figure out that you've got your own problems and are probably tired of them."
"I'll let you fix your lip," Puck said, brushing his hand over it lightly, "And you think about my proposition. Both of setting you up with my shrink and setting you up with my dick. Hit me up if you want either of 'em. Or both." Puck saluted and walked out of the bathroom.
Puck was surprised when six days later, in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday, the doorbell sounded and after opening the door he saw Kurt. "Puck." Kurt's mouth twitched, as if it couldn't decide to frown or smile, "Please distract me."