Inevitably: The Love Story of Jimmy Choo's and Axe

A little somethin'-somethin' I wrote for my lovely little Bri-baby. She wanted to see Ryan Cabrera's song, "True" featured in a Kurt/Puck story, so I tried my best. (:

Enjoy!

You know how you know you'll be getting something, but it's the 'eventually' you're waiting for? It's the birthday present you're promised. While your dad will pretend to not respond to the guesses you throw out for what you know to be those peep-toed Jimmy Choo's, it's apparent that you won't get one peek of the one thing you can remember wanting for so long. That is, until your birthday comes.

But Puck… Puck isn't a birthday present, as appealing as the thought may be. He and the jock have been dancing around each other for so long Kurt's forgotten the steps. He's beyond confused, not knowing which way is up or down (but knowing that the enchanting olive-green of Puck's eyes are incomparable).

Dragging out the inevitable is starting to make Kurt thing the obvious outcome isn't so obvious anymore. Maybe he was blinded by those gorgeous eyes that glittered more than emeralds. Maybe those private gun shows he thought he'd been receiving were just involuntary muscle spasms that just so happened to also make Puck's shirt deliciously strained around enormous biceps.

Kurt can't stand this wait-and-see game that's been going on for more than long enough. If Puck hasn't made a move yet, he reasons with himself, then he's either definitely not interested or too closeted to be the fabulous boyfriend Kurt always dreams of having.

It's after glee has let out and Mercedes and Tina left with Artie in tow (the former very suspicious and reluctant to leave 'her boy' alone with one of his used-to-be tormentors) that Kurt finally musters up the courage to talk to the only other person in the room.

"Look, Puck. I might be desperate, but a pathetic little puppy I am not." Kurt clenches his hands around the straps of his messenger bag, all tense muscles, sharp edges and dangerous fire that startles Mr. Mohawk. "I know you're still confused as to who you are-I respect that-but I'm tired of waiting on you to decide whether or not you want me."

Puck blinks owlishly. "I-um. Well, I wasn't sure-"

"Of course you're not sure if you're gay or not!" Kurt cried. "You're used to being the most heterosexual thing since Axe!"

Puck frowns. "I was going to say-I wasn't sure how you felt."

"Why didn't you just ask?"

Those confusing eyes (blue or green?), glittering with unshed tears, reveal a modicum of emotion, and it's more than enough inspiration for Puck. He intercepts the slightly smaller boy right before he makes it out the classroom. A hand meant to grasp the doorknob bumps against his abdomen. He tries not to grin at that little gasp his six pack evokes as he waits for Kurt's wide, startled eyes to meet his.

"Kurt." He says with as much warmth and pleading as he possibly can. "Please. Just… hear me out, yeah?"

Kurt frowns up at him, but those eyes say that he gave in at 'please'. Puck leads them over to the congregation of empty plastic chairs, gently setting Kurt down into one of the front row seats. Puck looks down at his Epiphone, stroking the strings absently for a few beats. "I don't really know how to say what I feel, and glee's all about expressing yourself with music and shit, right? I thought…"

"Puck," Kurt interrupts, but there's a small smile blossoming on his face now. "You're rambling."

He returns the smile, sheepish. "Er, right. Well… here goes."

He taps a beat against the guitar's body before plucking out the first riffs. He nods his head along, before singing, "I won't talk, I won't breathe, I won't move till you finally see that you belong with me."

As the song progresses, so does his confidence. His voice grows stronger and more passionate, and he closes his eyes against the barrage of emotions raging through his system like electricity. He's stuck here in the music, in such a high, untouchable place that he thinks nothing can touch his flow.

And then, right before he transitions to the second verse of the song, a clear, feminine voice takes hold; like morning fog in the sunlight, his musical haze flees at the first hint of that brilliant, warming voice. He opens his eyes to see Kurt hesitantly standing, singing, "Every time you walk into the room, I'm afraid to move…"

Somehow, this has turned into an impromptu ballad, one fluffy and happy-go-lucky enough to be part of High School Musical-if he were a golden boy that didn't knock up his best friend's girl, if Kurt happened to have a vagina (and a horrid fashion sense). Puck would be stricken by lightning if he said he didn't enjoy it in the least.

Their voices blend together at the chorus, and it's truly amazing, truly… True. Each and every word is infused with delicious tension and attraction: Kurt says "it's true" like it's an offer to suck Puck's dick. They dance around each other, pulling closer like magnets of opposite forces until Kurt's so close to him it's harder to strum his guitar. But Kurt doesn't seem to mind, and neither does he.

Kurt stops singing in the midst of the chorus, and Puck watches expectantly as those eyes, dizzyingly blue and green all at once, slide half-closed. He whispers "It's true" before lips press against his.

His numb fingers slip over strings and makes a messy noise that goes by completely unnoticed. Kurt reaches down to carefully slip the guitar off Puck, setting it against a nearby chair before walking into Puck's warm, waiting embrace for another, totally inevitable kiss.