Dave thought about not showing up at all, but in the end, that would have just been rude. So he settled on ten minutes late. Puck didn't even seem to notice.

He hadn't dressed up either, which didn't make Dave feel any better, because face it, Puck could make a burlap sack look sexy if he put on that smirk and flexed his arms the right way. He was wearing a shirt with a collar, though, so at least Dave didn't have to stare at the hickey all night.

"Thanks," he said as Dave pulled out his chair. "For this. You saved me from another night of Kraft dinner and Jeopardy reruns with Connor."

"The life of a single guy," said Dave sympathetically, not mentioning how many evenings he himself had spent with Alex Trebek and a bowl of mac & cheese.

"Kind of. I mean, we dated for a while, but yeah. I don't think either of us would consider the other anything more than a friend. Or a convenience, at most." Puck shrugged as though this were the most ordinary thing in the world, to have a friend with whom you did convenient things. Dave couldn't fathom it - although that didn't stop him from trying. He wondered uneasily about the source of the hickey. Had that been convenient?

"But he's a good guy, and he's got a pretty awesome tenor. The four of us hanging out, making music, is freaking hilarious. And it's nice to have a guy to bounce ideas off when it comes to teaching." He smiled, handing Dave the bowl of papadam. "Half the time I feel like I'm a total fraud, taking people's money and promising them some kind of education in return. As if I know what the hell I'm doing."

Dave knew exactly, exactly what that felt like, but he was entirely too distracted by the brush of Puck's fingers against his as he took the bowl, and by the time he recovered, Puck was already saying more words. Jesus, did this guy ever shut up?

"I guess that's why we went out. We had a lot in common. And, well - hot." Was that a blush? Dave didn't buy it. Because, even if Connor was pretty good-looking, he wasn't anywhere in the realm of Puckerman gorgeous. He munched on a papadam, wondering why, if Puck and Connor had so much in common, and Puck thought he was hot - and he was convenient - he still considered himself single. It wasn't the kind of question you asked, if you were two guys hanging out at dinner.

"So what do you like?"

Dave nearly panicked at this question, rolling across the table like a line out of one of Dave's far-too detailed fantasies, before he realized Puck was pointing at the menu. He raised an eyebrow. "You like it hot?"

"Medium," Dave managed. "Not... not too hot."

Puck nodded, perusing the choices. "You want to share?"

Dave did. They both liked curry, it turned out, so that was easy, and rogan josh once Puck had informed Dave that he was the kind of Jew that ate regular, non-kosher lamb. "And bacon," he added, with a grin. "Not to mention the piercing. I'm kind of a rule-breaker."

Ah, yes. The piercing. That Dave was not going to mention, or even think about, because it really, truly made him shudder to think about -

"After that guy ripped out the first one in juvie, I had it repierced on the other side," Puck said, and Dave tried hard not to wince. He touched his chest, casually. Dave averted his eyes.

He didn't get why people would deliberately go and seek out things that hurt. Like there wasn't enough of that in the world without having to go looking for it.

"That must have been painful."

"Hmmm? The piercing? Oh... no, that was fine. But juvie sucked." He crunched on another papadam. "It was the scariest thing I've ever done. Kind of got me to clean up my act, though. I don't like to think about the kind of guy I might have become if I hadn't gone."

Dave thought about it. He couldn't imagine going to juvie, though he'd come closer than he liked to think about. Making him a better person? He thought if something like that happened to him, it would have just pushed him over the edge of no return. And that scared him. But maybe it wouldn't have been like that. Maybe once he'd have been there, and got punished for what he'd done, he could have gotten over it.

More words were coming. Dave tried to listen to all of them, but it was like a flood of revelations, and he wasn't quite ready to hear all of it. "I think it made me brave enough to go to Okinawa, though. After growing up in one town my whole life, flying across the world and spending a year in another country - especially one where I didn't speak the language - should have been a lot scarier." He smiled at Dave, and it was warm and honest and absolutely terrifying. "But I had a great time. And I learned a ton about myself. I guess coming back to Small Town USA wasn't so bad, after that."

Dave was lost in thought about that for long enough that he didn't notice until Puck was waving the wine and beer list in front of him. "You want a bottle of something?"

Dave considered it. "Yeah, sure." He didn't think he had to worry about getting too drunk, and a little bit of alcohol might make this not quite as hard. He had enough inhibitions that losing a few wouldn't be a big deal. Puck might not even notice.

Puck ordered a Barley's, one of the less disgusting local microbrews, just as they brought an order of naan. Dave asked for the same. He hadn't realized Puck had ordered the bread, but he accepted a small piece when Puck tore a piece in half and handed it to him. He didn't want to say anything about watching his carbs in front of Puck, who seemed to still have the metabolism of a hummingbird. And he'd done almost 60 miles today, so it was probably fine.

"So, math." Puck gestured with his glass. "How'd you decide on that?"

"Um, well. It just sort of happened, I think. When I didn't have football anymore. It was the only other thing I could think of that I was sort of good at."

"Yeah, you are," Puck said, with far more enthusiasm than Dave thought it warranted.

"Thanks. I'm not like some of the other guys, though. I mean, I'm not a genius, I'm just regular smart." There were other grad students that scared him, their brains were such a completely different world. He thought Puck had a little bit of that, actually, a piece of that other brilliance stuck inside a Lima football player.

"Trust me. Regular smart is plenty. You always did pretty well in school. I remember." Puck's mouth made a rueful shape, and he rubbed his chin. "I spent most of high school avoiding class. It's freaking amazing I graduated at all."

"You're not stupid, though. You just don't have a high school type of brain." He looked at Puck, hoping he believed that. He didn't seem too upset by the conversation, but Dave wanted to make sure Puck knew he didn't think so. Puck shrugged again.

"Maybe. I've always had a hard time with writing, and reading's still a pain. I get by okay, but I'll never be Doctor Puckerman or anything."

"You don't have to, though. You won't believe how much the math faculty can't spell. Our newsletters are terrible."

Puck laughed, and he touched Dave's hand across the table, just a little bump with his knuckles. It startled Dave enough that he almost dropped his beer. "Well, I'll fit in just fine, then. I get my sister to proofread the dojo's web page before it goes up."

Dave wasn't sure what to do with his hand. Moving it would mean acknowledging what just happened, but leaving it there might seem like he wanted it to happen again.

"Maybe you should stay where you are. You were great with those kids today, I'd hate to see them lose you. I mean, not that we wouldn't love to have you, but there's a lot of guys out there who can do math." He smiled. "If you missed it too much, I'd be fine with letting you do my homework. Maybe write a few papers, too, when you got some more practice."

He snapped his mouth shut. This was why he needed to think before he spoke. He hoped his thoughts didn't show on his face and that Puck hadn't noticed what he'd just implied, because wow, that was kind of heavy for just two guys having dinner.

And the worst part was how much he suddenly realized he wanted it.

He wanted someone to come home to, someone to sit with him and Pascal on the couch while he read or graded student papers. It didn't even have to be Puck, maybe, though in the rush of images that had occupied his head, it was. And what did it mean that it hit him so hard now, sitting here with Puck, rather than on any of his actual dates?

"You'd let me do that?" Puck raised one of those dangerous eyebrows at him. "Gosh, I don't know anybody who'd trust me that much. I think there's a pretty good chance I'd mess it up." Puck didn't seem too concerned about this idea, though. As though messing up were not such a big deal.

"You'd be fine. You have way more talent than me."

At least Puck seemed to be talking about the homework part. And friends did each others' homework, didn't they? He'd been doing math assignments for half the hockey team in high school. Maybe the rest of it was really just in his head.

Puck was staring at him like he had grown a second one. "What?"

Dave jumped a little, suspecting for a moment that Puck had somehow read his mind. Then he got it.

"I mean, with math. Some of the things you showed me...I mean, sure I could understand them, but I would have had to read it somewhere first. And you just did it, all by yourself, without even knowing for sure it could be done. That's what really makes someone good at math. The creativity."

Puck took a drink of his beer. He didn't say anything for a long time after that. Dave thought maybe he hadn't heard him.

"I'm not really good at much," said Puck. "It's kind of... well. I have a hard time believing that. What you said."

Dave stared at him. Puck, not good at much? As far as he could tell, Puck could do pretty much anything he decided to do.

"It's true. And it's not just that, is it? You write music. You're a really talented athlete. Do you think just any twenty-three year old would have his own business, and a band, and take advanced math classes on the side?"

Puck shook his head, like he had an annoying sound in his ear. "No - that's just what I had to do. I didn't do the college thing, so I had to figure something out." He opened a second beer and set it in front of Dave. Dave was about to object before he realized he was already finished with his first. "None of that stuff really matters. I mean, yeah, I can do math. So what? It's not going to change the world."

Dave shrugged. "I guess." Puck was probably right, none of what they did was actually that important. "What you do with your students, though. I mean, it's not the world, but I bet you change Lima, for those kids. Don't you remember Mr. Iwaniszyn? Our old hockey coach? Don't tell me it made no difference to you that he got up at seven every Saturday to stand in a dark and freezing rink with a bunch of thirteen-year-olds."

Puck picked at his napkin. Dave thought it was perhaps time to do something drastic, like cut his own tongue off with a fork. As awesome as Mr. Iwaniszyn had been, their junior hockey career was an incredibly bad choice of topic.

"I guess..." Puck's gaze was on his hands, but Dave suspected he was seeing something farther away than that. "Yeah, Iwaniszyn was great. I really liked him. But I have a hard time believing that something I do could mean that much to a kid. Who's going to remember me in five years?"

Well. Dave, for one, but he didn't think that was what Puck wanted to hear.

"You never know, I guess. What stupid little thing is going to stick with someone." He privately thought that Puck was a lot more memorable than he gave himself credit for, but he had no idea how to tell him that without sounding either patronizing or like a kid with an unfortunate crush on his teacher.

He did not tell Puck that, if nothing else, he was sure a good portion of his students would remember him as the man they were half in love with when they were twelve. You didn't forget the first guy you ever... luckily, they weren't talking about that. See, even after two beers, he was getting better at controlling his tongue.

"Anyway, like you said, we have to do something, right? Maybe it's not exactly what we dreamed about, but, hey, when I was a kid I thought driving the garbage truck would be the coolest job ever. Things change."

And then some things really, really didn't.

Puck was still stuck looking at his hands. And then he grinned. "Driving a garbage truck actually sounds pretty awesome."

"Yeah, no, I'm not knocking the garbage truck." Dave smiled back at him. "Was that your childhood dream, too, or did you have bigger aspirations? Fireman? Train driver?"

"Heh. Rock star, definitely. My dad... well." Puck tossed down the last of his second beer - how did he finish it so quickly? - and grimaced. "I don't have much good to say about him, but he definitely inspired me to play the guitar. I used to want to be just like him." He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Yeah, that was before I knew what a prick he was."

If there was a right way to respond to something like that, he didn't know about it. The silence dragged on, and Dave thought very soon Puck would feel like he had to fill it and his moment to say something would be gone.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry your dad was a prick. And I'm really happy that you decided not to be."

He didn't want to know what Puck might decide to tell him if he didn't keep talking, so he continued.

"Anyway, rock star is technically still an option, right? Because I'm pretty sure I would have known about it if your dad had actually been one."

Puck shook his head. "I don't think he did anything worthwhile, really. I remember him playing a lot with friends in our family room when I was little, and then there was a lot of drinking and yelling and then he took off. Thank God. Sarah was only three." He ran a hand over his buzz cut. Dave couldn't help but wonder if it was still as soft as it had been the last time he'd touched it. He wasn't going to touch it. He wasn't.

"I look at my life now and how freaking much it reminds me of how he was, before things got bad. And I can't help but wonder, if I'm going to end up like him."

Then Puck seemed to break out of his trance, and he looked up and saw Dave staring at him. He laughed, embarrassed. "Sorry. I get kind of self-absorbed. You want some of this curry?"

"Sure, thanks." He didn't really, but he felt bad for needing Puck to save the conversation, when he was the one who should have been able to deal with it.

They ate in silence for a while. The rogan josh was just a little too spicy, but Dave with two beers in him didn't mind, and when Puck ordered a third round, he didn't question it. To tell the truth, he barely felt the alcohol at all. He sometimes felt self-conscious about eating or drinking more than the people around him, but Puck was getting another too, so that was fine.

"All right, I have a confession."

Oh, so now he decided to warn him. Considering how freely Puck had confessed to a lot of things already, Dave was a little worried, but he tried not to let it show.

"Oh, really?"

Puck was grinning. "I have a weakness for gulab jamun, but I totally don't need the empty calories. You want to share one?"

Dave laughed. Okay, that he could handle, though the mention of empty calories made his stomach drop a little. He wasn't going to confess that to Puck, though, and he liked the idea of sharing a dessert. More than that, he didn't want to tell Puck no. "Yeah, okay. I don't think I've ever had that before, but I trust you."

"You're going to love it," Puck assured him, pushing his chair out. "It's completely sugary and awesome."

Puck went up to the counter to order while Dave scooped the leftover rice and dishes into two containers. There was a little bit left of everything, and he didn't know how to split it into two containers without mixing something that shouldn't be or risking that Puck ended up with something he didn't want or thinking that Dave had taken the biggest part for himself. Or maybe he'd prefer that. Maybe if Dave gave Puck all the food he'd think it was some kind of jab at his eating habits. He didn't get it quite right, but he kind of had to live with it, because moving rice back and forth between the two piles would make him look insane.

The waiter came back with their dessert, and two spoons. "And the check, when you get a minute," said Dave.

"The other gentleman has already paid," the waiter told him.

"But - okay, I'll pay you back later."

"Dude," Puck said, shrugging it off. "I asked you out. Here, try this." He held out a spoonful of the dessert, which looked like tiny doughnuts soaked in syrup.

Dave started to lean forward to eat it off the spoon, then noticed what he was doing and stopped abruptly. He tried to make the little dead end movement look like something else, anything, but he didn't really think it worked. Whatever, it couldn't be more awkward than actually eating out of Puck's freaking hand. He reached out and took the spoon that Puck was still patiently holding, and lifted it to his mouth, trying his best not to make it look too disgusting.

As soon as he tasted what was on the spoon, though, he forgot about what he looked like eating it. It was just as Puck had promised, unbelievably sweet, possibly sweeter than pure sugar. The first spoonful was amazing, but he wasn't sure if he really wanted another bite.

"I told you, right?" Puck looked smug, and used the other spoon to take a bite of his own. Dave let his eyes linger on the spoon disappearing between Puck's lips, until he noticed Puck watching him, and then he didn't know where to look. He settled on the take-away containers in front of him.

"So I got this book out of the library last week," Puck said. "I heard about it on NPR - it's called The Mystery of the Aleph? It's totally about math and kabbalah and stuff."

Hadn't Puck just told him about barely being good enough at reading to get through high school? He wasn't sure what kind of book it was, but it didn't sound like something easy.

Puck must have seen the expression on Dave's face, because he held up a hand, as if to ward off his derision. "It's way over my head, mostly, but I recognized that guy's name - Cantor? - from that conversation we had in your office. And I'm kind of interested in the Jewish tradition thing. It's pretty good so far."

Okay, so Puck looking at him like that, and eating dessert in a manner that probably should be regulated, and talking about the philosophy of infinite sets? Dave was only human. He had a breaking point. It was probably his turn to speak, but he wasn't sure he could actually manage a coherent sentence right now. He swallowed.

"Maybe I should read it. Set theory isn't exactly my field, but it's interesting."

Puck gazed at him across the table. "Well... I have it in my truck. If you want, I could bring it over to your house."

"Yes. I mean, if you don't mind, that would be great." Then he shut up, because he wasn't really sure what it was he'd just accepted. Was Puck going to drive the book to his house? Why, when it was right outside in his truck? Or was he really offering Dave a ride home, which he didn't strictly speaking need, seeing as he had his bike waiting outside?

"You're on your bike, right?" Puck didn't look away from him as he stood, snagging the take-away containers from in front of Dave. "I can drive you home, if you want. We can put it in my truck."

"If you're sure it's not too much trouble." He wasn't going to try to figure it out. For once, he'd just go with it and follow Puck's lead.

"No trouble at all, man." He pushed through the door onto the street, stretching his arms over his head like he'd been working out.

Dave tried not to stare. He walked over to where he'd parked his bike, while digging in his pockets for the key to the lock. Puck followed him. After a bit of fumbling, Dave got the lock open. He turned the bike around to walk it back to the truck.

Puck opened the back and helped him lift and slide the bike into the bed of the truck. "You must do a lot of biking," he said. "That's not a regular street bike. Some fancy shit on there."

"Yeah. Well, this is actually not my really fancy one, you saw that one earlier today. This is the fixie, like a track bike? I use it to get around, mostly, and sometimes I just ride it around because it's fun. It's almost like being a kid again."

Puck got into the driver's seat, then reached over and opened the passenger door for Dave from the inside. "Sorry - the handle sticks. Hop in."

"Thanks." Dave climbed in and turned to Puck. "Drive carefully, okay? That's my baby lying back there with no seatbelt on."

Puck reached out and touched Dave's arm. "I promise."

Puck's hand was warm on his skin. As long as he kept looking at him like that, Dave would let him throw his road bike on the truck and go racing down a dirt road. Even if it was a carbon frame. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"You know where to find me if anything goes wrong. So, where to, teach?"

"Take a left at the next light."

Dave guided him through the city back to his house. The garage was detached from the brick building. Puck parked the truck outside, and Dave jumped out to unload his bike.

He pushed the bike towards Puck. It didn't look like it had been too badly damaged by the ride. "Can you hold on to this for me for a minute? I don't have the keys to the garage."

Puck put one hand on the seat, grabbing his backpack with the other, watching Dave unlock and open the front door. He found the garage keys lying where he'd left them, and came back outside to take the bike from Puck. "Thanks." Puck looked like he didn't quite want to let go, or maybe he was just distracted, but either way he wasn't holding on to the handlebars and didn't notice that the front wheel was starting to turn. The bike slipped away and crashed to the ground.

"Oh, shit, man, I am so sorry," Puck said, stepping back in clear distress. "Did I totally destroy it or what?" He put a hand on Dave's shoulder, peering over him at the bike on the ground.

Dave lifted the bike back up by the frame and looked it over, stroking the aluminum tubes as he dusted it off. It looked okay. "No, it's fine, she can take a hit. Don't worry about it."

Puck's face was suddenly far too close to Dave's, and he jerked back a little. Puck didn't seem concerned. "She?" He smiled. "Yeah. My guitar's a chick, too."

Dave carefully pushed the bike away to get it around Puck, and rolled it over to the garage. When it was safely inside and the door locked, he walked back over to Puck, who was still waiting quietly. "So."

Puck's eyes glittered in the dim light of the street lamp. "So, you going to ask me in, Karofsky, or what?"

Oh. Dave hadn't been sure what Puck actually wanted, if he should just say goodbye or ask for the book or what, and he really didn't want to assume anything or make things really awkward by pushing himself on Puck. But it really sounded like he wanted Dave to invite him in. He grinned.

"Yes. Puck, do you want to come inside?"

"Why, Dave, I'd be thrilled." That was definitely not flirting. He was smirking and pushing Dave's buttons, but there was zero flirting going on here, Dave was pretty sure. The problem was that once he accepted that axiom, none of Puck's actions tonight made much sense.

Dave nudged Pascal away from the door as he opened it. "Watch out for the cat. He'll bolt."

Puck threw his backpack on the sofa and crouched down, holding out a hand and waiting for Pascal to come to him, making little clicking noises with his tongue. Pascal paused under the coffee table, then wound his way around each leg and sniffed Puck's hand before rubbing against it. "Pretty boy," Puck crooned, scritching under his chin. Pascal stretched out his neck, squinting his eyes closed in a feline smile and purring loudly.

Dave stood back and watched the Puckerman charm work on his cat. "I think he likes you."

"You're either a cat person or a dog person." Puck grinned up at Dave as Pascal made a little leap with his back legs to rub harder on his finger. "I think you can guess which one I am."

Dave grinned back, remembering one guy in particular who had been so freaked out by Pascal that he hadn't wanted to put his feet on the floor all night. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say cat."

"Such a pretty boy." Puck scooped Pascal up in his hands, lifting him up to his shoulder and scratching his ruff. Pascal looked like he was in heaven, leaning against Puck's neck and stropping him repeatedly. Puck didn't seem put off by the wads of cream-colored fur that Pascal was shedding. He glanced at Dave in amusement. "Apparently I'm his, now."

Puck's matter of fact declaration might have short circuited Dave's brain, because nothing made sense any more. Nothing.

He casually reached down with his hand and let Pascal spill out onto the couch, brushing stray cat hairs off his hands against his jeans. "I've got that book in my bag," he said, "if you want to see it."

Book? Oh, right, the reason Puck was here in the first place. The book. That Puck was reading of his own free will about the history of a mathematical theory. There went his brain again.

"Uh."

He did want that book, but it wasn't exactly the most important thing on his mind right now. Much less so than figuring out if there was any possible way that Puck really meant to do what Dave thought he might be doing. What, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he really, really wanted him to do.

Puck touched his bag, then looked back at Dave, moving toward him slowly and deliberately. Dave took a step back. "Or we could wait. Look at it another time. Maybe tomorrow."

Dave forced himself to stop backing away. He took a tiny step forward, putting himself back in the place he had been a second ago. Puck was close enough that if Dave reached out just a little, he could easily have touched him. Just the theoretical possibility was enough to make his heart beat hard all the way up in his throat.

"We could. Do that. If you want."

And then Puck did touch him, just reached out and put a hand on his chest, stroking lightly. It was enough to send him into a catatonic state, but Dave resisted, shuddering, and made himself keep his eyes open and focused on Puck. Who knew when he might ever, ever get this chance again, and he wasn't going to miss any bit of it.

"You know," Puck said, his voice soft and intimate, "watching you teach on Thursday. That was pretty hot."

"Yeah?" Dave's voice had gone, too, making the word barely more than a breath.

"Yeah." His hand ghosted over Dave's neck and curled around the back of his head, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. Puck's head tipped, watching Dave's stunned response with apparent satisfaction. "Mmmm. Dr. Dave. Never think I had quite that fantasy before, but... hell, yeah."

And, okay, he got it. The world had stopped working the way it had yesterday, and there was no point in trying to play by the old rules. Puck was here, and he wasn't going to think about the consequences anymore. He lifted his hand and ran it lightly over Puck's head. It really was just as soft as he remembered. Puck leaned into his touch, making a low appreciative sound that was far too sexy for Dave's living room.

Dave dropped his hands from Puck's head and placed them on his shoulders instead. It was a strange feeling. The last time he'd really touched Puck, he'd still been a 12-year-old boy. He'd seen Puck's broad shoulders and arms, of course, he'd looked more than he cared to admit, but that wasn't the same as feeling them under his hands.

Puck's sigh dug into Dave's skin, and he slipped his hands under Dave's arms and wrapped them around his back, crushing their chests together. It was too much. It wasn't nearly enough. Dave opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

"This is okay, then?" Puck said, his gaze flickering across his face, down to his lips, and back again to look into his eyes. He didn't look like he was joking anymore. "You want this?"

This was so many things, but okay wasn't really a word he'd choose to describe it. Puck's second question, though, that he could answer. It didn't even really matter what this was; if Puck was asking, he wanted it. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah, I do."

Puck's slow smile curved his lips up at the corners, but Dave couldn't look anywhere past the center, between his lips, where his tongue was resting, just waiting there. He might say anything. He might say, get the fuck away from me, Karofsky. What the hell? Or maybe he might say, ha, got you.

Or he might do what he did, which was pull Dave close enough for Dave to feel his warm breath on his cheek, and press their lips together, his tongue seeking entry. Dave let him in with a strangled moan, and he tasted Puck's mouth for the first time in ten years.

"Oh my god," he muttered, before he even realized he was saying it. Dave's nerves all along the front of his body, where Puck's chest and stomach and regions below that were touching, were on fire. He wasn't sure if he could tolerate being this close and not feeling his skin.

"Tell me about it," Puck breathed, with a little chuckle. His mouth moved to Dave's neck, tracing tendrils of heat along the line of his jaw, across to his ear. "You feel incredible."

It had been long enough that Dave had almost forgotten what it felt like to hold another person in his arms, what it was like to push his body against someone and feel him pushing back. But Dave was pretty sure that he'd never felt a person like this before, not ever, not even back in seventh grade. Puck was firm in all the right spots - all of them. And wasn't that an old fantasy: that Dave Karofsky could get Noah Puckerman hard. Dave's hips bucked against Puck's all of their own accord, making him gasp and shake to his core.

"Yeah, I feel you," Puck said, low and delighted. His hand came down Dave's chest, onto his abdomen, and into the crease of his jeans, between his thighs. Dave had no say over what his traitorous legs did, apparently, because they spread open, coaxing Puck's knee between them, and wedged firmly against him. "That's it - come on, Dave, let me touch you."

He felt himself breathing fast, almost too fast, and he deliberately held his breath, not wanting to hyperventilate. Not now. Not with Puck's hand gripping his ass, rotating his hips in circles that were absolutely guaranteed to get Dave off in about ten seconds.

"Wait - just a second - " he gasped, and tugged far enough away to put a handsbreadth of space between them.

"Something wrong?" Puck said, not sounding worried, or even like he cared. It was almost as though he were laughing. Dave thought, in sudden panic, he's totally faking this. Which was stupid, of course, on so many levels, because he could feel exactly what was going on between Puck's legs, and there wasn't any way to fake that. And anyway, wasn't Puck the one making all the delicious, sinful noises and running his hands all over Dave's back, like he was going for a degree in massage instead of math?

"I'm just - it's kind of fast," he said, putting a hand out, to give himself a little room for his body to maneuver. But Puck smiled, and reeled him right back in with his strong, muscular forearms and made a home for himself on Dave's chest. He brushed firm, insistent thumbs against Dave's nipples, and wasn't that a hell of a sensation.

"Puck," he said, a little more desperately.

"All right, all right," Puck said, in easy acquiescence. "I can slow down." He brought his lips to Dave's ear. "But I'd have thought that ten years of waiting was pretty fucking slow."

Dave's thinking process, already impaired by lack of blood flow, stuttered to a halt. He jerked back and stared at Puck, eyes wide. "You remember that?"

Puck returned the gaze with an incredulous chuckle. "Really, Dave?" He shook his head. "You think I could have forgotten?"

Dave had no idea what might or might not be going on in Puck's mind. It had always been a mystery to Dave, even through the years of kind-of-friendship in middle school; even after the accident. Even after that night at Finn's, when they'd discovered things about each other they had no idea were even possible. But Dave knew how it had been for himself. He could tell him. He figured he owed Puck at least that much.

"I never forgot," he said, haltingly. "I always - I wanted. Wanted you."

Puck's breathtaking smile - and it really did, it took Dave's breath, and for a few moments he struggled dizzily for oxygen - broke over his face, and Puck's eyes shone with pleasure. Dave had no idea what he would have to do to get Puck to look at him like that again, but he was willing to do a lot.

"Yeah," said Puck. "Me, too." His fingers touched the margins of Dave's face. "Still do. You gonna let me now?"

"Let you - what?" Dave felt Puck's fingers, tugging, like fog. They slipped behind his ear, holding his head, pulling him down that spare inch that Puck was shorter than Dave, and their lips met again. It was sweeter than the Indian dessert Puck had fed him. And this - he thought maybe he might never want anything else again in his mouth, ever.

Well. Maybe something, thought the crazy person that had overtaken Dave's brain.

"Let me," Puck insisted, when their mouths parted, and then he put his hand directly on top of Dave's aching cock. Dave heard himself make a noise, one that sounded something like please, only a whole lot more desperate than that. It would have been absurd and ridiculous and embarrassing, if Dave had had any higher brain function left at all.

Puck gave Dave a little push and a little tug and suddenly, just like Dave was one of his students in the dojo, he was sitting on the couch. Puck impatiently pushed his backpack out of the way, dislodging a disgruntled Pascal, and managed to get Dave's zipper halfway down before Dave could think to help him.

"Here - I can..." Dave lifted up, off the couch, and Puck's hands slipped into his slightly too-loose jeans and pulled them down to his knees. He knelt between Dave's legs in a pose Dave had seen a million times in his dreams, although never with quite this expression on Puck's face. Like - like he really wanted to be there.

"Tell me you've been tested," Puck said, cupping him through his boxers, his breath coming a little faster. His hand was warm, and strong, and he was scrambling to pull the last layer of fabric over Dave's hips when Dave realized what Puck was asking.

"Oh," he blurted, "yeah, I mean - I'm clean, man, I don't - oh."

There were no words sufficient to encompass what Puck was doing to him, kneeling there on the carpet of his living room in front of his little couch. It was involving his mouth, yes, and his hands, and various parts of Dave's anatomy which were very interested in the proceedings, and Dave's own vocal chords were getting involved now, hitting notes Dave had been pretty sure he didn't have in his tessitura.

"Puck," he choked, and heard the answering chuckle.

He felt Puck's hands gripping his hips, slipping between his thighs, touching all his most sensitive, secret spots seemingly at the same time. Dave reached out with one trembling hand and clasped Puck's shoulder, the only thing he could reach besides his head, and he was not going to interfere with the movements of Puck's head, no, he was not.

He tried again, a little more pointedly this time: "Puck."

"S'okay, man," came Puck's muffled voice. "I want you to come in my mouth."

Well, Dave thought, dazed and overstimulated in a dozen different ways. If he says so.

It was far too many minutes afterwards before Dave realized Puck was just resting there, not looking for him to reciprocate. That didn't seem right to Dave. Plus he didn't want to seem ungrateful. He ran his hand over Puck's head again, shivering at the velvety sensation on his palm.

"What about you?" he asked. He heard his own words, gentle and hesitant, and the way they sounded said volumes beyond the syllables.

"I'm good," Puck said. "I took care of it."

Dave sat forward to stare at Puck, who looked far too collected and calm and clothed for what had just happened. Or, rather, hadn't just happened.

"Hey," he said, feeling vaguely insulted. "Why didn't I get to -?" He made an all-encompassing gesture toward Puck on the floor.

He lifted himself onto the couch to sit next to Dave in one smooth move. Even post-coital Puck is way too fucking graceful.

"You want to?" Puck looked bemused.

"Well... yeah."

"Huh. Most guys aren't really that invested in, you know. Giving back." His lips twisted into a smile. "But this was... great. I'd be up for more." Puck's hand reached out and rested casually on Dave's thigh, making him twitch and stir, which made Puck laugh, which made Dave wonder if he should be embarrassed by that.

He already knows you want him, he thought. So what if you want him again. Right away.

Puck leaned over and kissed him, one hand on his cheek. It already felt so incredibly familiar to Dave, as though they'd done it a zillion times before, instead of, well, once. Or twice. Dave reached up and grabbed his wrist before he could pull away. Puck gazed at him, surprised.

"I'm invested," Dave said. "Really."

Puck nodded, eyes wide and locked on Dave's. He tugged his hand free and let it trail down onto Dave's shirt, still rucked up on the belly, and that probably should have been embarrassing too. But he kind of wasn't embarrassed at all anymore. Puck looked like he might be ready to stand up and call it a night, and that was not happening. Dave wasn't going to let him leave here like this.

What Puck had said about most guys... it sounded like they hadn't been as into him as they ought to be. As Dave was. And he was always afraid to want too much, but this wasn't quite about that anymore, was it? It was about Puck, and how he needed Puck to know that those guys had just been wrong.

"I mean, if you really want to go, go, but I definitely want you to stay. I don't know what those guys were thinking. Not keeping you for as long as they could."

The light was kind of dim, so it was hard to tell for sure, but that looked suspiciously like a blush on Puck's dusky cheeks. Dave wished he could feel it through his skin, like a little heat lamp, but he guessed things didn't quite work that way. It looked good on him, though, and Dave just sat there, staring at Puck blushing at him, in the living room.

"I don't want to go," Puck said. He squinted fiercely at the arm of the couch like it was really important somehow. "I guess I don't usually hang out with guys who'd want me to stay. If you know what I mean."

Dave thought he knew exactly what Puck meant, and he didn't like it. Maybe that was the backside of all that casual and convenient that he'd been so intimidated by. Maybe Puck didn't quite have everything he wanted after all.

"But... fuck, Dave." Puck shook his head, tucking his hand inside Dave's t-shirt. "Hearing you, say that to me. Kind of hard to believe."

He felt a bubble of hysterical laughter in his chest, but this was not the time to let it out. Puck kept saying those things, so he must believe them, even if they weren't true.

Dave's shirt was still sort of half off, and it was distracting the way the air was cool on part of his stomach and side. It felt absurdly even more naked than wearing nothing. His hand itched to go pull it down, but Puck's hand was in the way.

He reached out and grabbed the bottom of Puck's shirt, instead. Maybe if they were both shirtless, it would be better. Even if Puck shirtless was an entirely different sort of situation than, well, him. A good one, though. He started to pull Puck's shirt up and off, willing him to get the message and cooperate.

Puck looked a little startled at first, but he got it, and grinned widely at Dave as he discarded his shirt on the floor. "You, too," he said, picking at Dave's hem.

Dave didn't even take the time to answer, he just crossed his arms and pulled the shirt off in one move. That thing was just in the way.

Puck's hands were on his rib cage before he could object. He was touching Dave's skin like he was absorbing some essential nutrient from the contact, sweeping over his arms and his back and back to his stomach. Dave was a little self-conscious about the hair on his back, but Puck didn't shy away from it, just made it part of the terrain of Dave that he was traversing. He looked a little shell-shocked.

"What?" said Dave, trying not to sound too nervous.

"Uh." Puck swallowed and licked his lips. "You, uh. You feel really..."

Dave never got to learn how he felt, because Puck closed with him on the couch, sealing their lips together and forcing him back with a little surprised grunt. This time, when their bodies pressed together, it was more familiar to Dave's memory. This feeling of skin against skin, even with the addition of Puck's - shudder - nipple ring, was much closer to what Dave recalled about being in this situation with Puck, so long ago.

He let himself feel every point of contact like a star in the constellation of their collective form. When Puck moved in closer, Dave mirrored him, until they were practically in each other's laps, gasping in tandem. Before long it was like that earlier orgasm had just been imaginary, because he was ready to go, again, right now. But they needed to take care of one more detail first.

"And... you've been tested, then?" he asked, close to Puck's neck, and he felt Puck quivering as Dave's breath landed on his neck. He gave his neck an experimental kiss, and Puck moaned. Huh, he thought, and tried his teeth.

"Oh, fuck, Dave," Puck groaned, going limp and twitching under the assault. Dave thought he understood what had happened to cause the hickey. Whoever had given it to him had wanted Puck to react just like this. Dave kind of didn't ever want him to do anything else. He gave Puck a little more pressure with his teeth, and added his tongue against the bite, and Puck whimpered. That gave Dave an unexpected thrill, to hear him make that noise.

"Have you?" he asked again. "Cause I'd kind of like to try that thing you did. On you. If you could, you know. Take off your pants." Did he really just say those words to Noah Puckerman?

Apparently he had, because Puck was rapidly muttering, "Yeah, yeah, that'd be great," and wrestling his jeans off as quickly as he could, joined by his slightly sticky boxer briefs. Dave was disappointed he didn't get more than a moment to enjoy the sight of Puck, naked Puck, here in his living room, where could stare as long as he wanted without being worried about who might notice.

But he didn't feel disappointed for too long, because Puck was straddling him, getting close enough that the nipple ring was within touching distance. Even tongue-touching distance, if he had the nerve.

He decided he did. The taste of the metal on his tongue wasn't bad, even sort of interesting, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure of hearing the explosion of sound from Puck's mouth.

"That feels good?" he had to ask, even though the answer was pretty apparent. Puck had thrown his head back and was arching his back into the contact, which was blisteringly hot all by itself - that pose was straight out of Dave's daily fantasies.

"Again," Puck begged, and Dave did it again, letting his tongue map patterns around the piercing, circling it, flicking it, and, finally, taking it in his teeth. That made Puck say his name, and he liked that, yeah, he did, so he bit down a tiny bit harder.

"Dave, Dave, stop, holy fuck, stop, you're gonna make me - " Puck's panicked voice made him sit back and let Puck calm down. Dave could feel his heart racing under his hand.

"Isn't that kind of the point?" Dave asked mildly. "Unless you're somehow not into that?"

"No," Puck panted, shaking a little. "No, definitely into that. A little too into that. I'm just not ready to be done yet." He took Dave's hand and brought it down to his own cock, at full attention, and wrapped it around the base. "Here. Squeeze. Hard - harder than that."

"Like this?" Dave said, and Puck nodded, wincing. "I'm not hurting you?"

"No," Puck assured him, leaning into the touch. "Not hurting. Now - again. Your tongue, man, come on."

Dave wasn't sure how he felt about Puck bossing him around, but he seemed to know exactly what he wanted, and that was kind of cool. "Tighter," Puck insisted, then groaned as Dave gave it to him.

"That feels good?" Dave asked again, a little doubtfully, and laved the nipple ring with the flat of his tongue, like Noah Puckerman was an ice cream cone. He was definitely Dave's favorite flavor, if he were.

"Yes," he hissed. "Just like - yes, yes, Dave!" The last was a shout, and Dave had to hold him down with his other arm to keep from getting his teeth caught in the ring. He guessed that was not what Puck was going for. But he didn't let up with his tongue, hoping to make Puck make some of those breathy whimpering noises again.

"Squeezing... like that," Puck said, through gritted teeth, "it'll keep me... keep me from coming. Yet. Don't let go."

Dave didn't. He had a very specific idea in his head about how and where and when he wanted Puck to come, and if he had any say at all about it, it wasn't going to be all over his couch. He cinched his fingers a little tighter and gave Puck's red, swollen nipple as much attention as he dared, basking in the sound of his moans, interspersed with Dave's name repeated at frequent intervals. Puck said it with so much intensity it made Dave a little light-headed.

Then Puck's hand drifted down between their legs, intertwined on the couch, and he felt a blast of heat and need as it wrapped around Dave's cock. Puck's hand felt so much like his own, and yet completely nothing like his own. He found himself edging forward, thrusting up into Puck's fist, wanting it far more than he should have, considering he'd just had a spectacular orgasm into the mouth of the man currently stroking him.

"I want... so much," he said against Puck's sculpted chest, his eyes closing. With each shaky breath, he felt the movement of that chest, up and down, and he let himself be rocked by its rhythm.

"Yeah?" Dave felt Puck's flushed cheek resting on his head, Puck's body trembling with the tension of not coming just yet. He made a gasping noise as Dave licked him again. He knew Puck was almost, almost there, but wanted to wait, to stretch it out - and Dave loved that he could probably push him over the edge, with a tiny flick of his tongue. He wouldn't, until Puck asked for it. But he could.

Puck pressed dry lips to Dave's forehead. "Let me give it to you," he said. "Just tell me what it is. I bet you can have it."

Just for a fleeting moment, Dave let his imagination expand, to encompass all that was possible. He didn't want a million dollars. He didn't want to be famous or to cure cancer. But he might want a life with a man, a man like this one. A life that might involve sharing a home and a bed and a family and all the everyday things, bikes and Indian dinners and karate and crosswords and math. But he couldn't think of a way to ask for any of that.

And even the smaller things seemed too far out of his reach. All the things he wanted to do with, and to, Puck. Yet here Puck was, offering them, offering to give them to Dave. Exactly how - ?

No. Dave knew exactly how he wanted Puck to give it to him. The image was as clear and crisp as any fantasy had ever been, and now here he was with a chance to get precisely what he'd dreamed of. He'd be a fool to pass it up. He tried whispering it.

Puck turned his head, shifting toward Dave as he straddled his lap, and nudged his cheek with his nose. "Sorry, missed that."

"I want you inside me," Dave said, a little louder. He didn't think he'd ever actually said those words out loud before.

Puck stilled, his hand on Dave's cock pausing, and he took a great big gulp of air, kind of a groan and kind of a sigh. "I am all about that," he murmured. "But knowing where I am now, it's going to be over way the fuck too quickly for it to be any kind of good for you. Maybe we should wait?"

Dave knew the answer to that one. He leaned back on the couch cushion and looked straight into Puck's eyes. "I don't want to wait. I'm done with that."

Puck hesitated, clearly torn, and Dave drew Puck's face down to meet his, touching their lips together. It was part of the surreality of this whole evening to have this with Puck, another of the things he had just learned and now would never forget: the sweetness of his kiss, his sensitive neck, and the broken way he sounded when he was close to completion.

And it was also Dave's rational mind that guessed this - whatever it was - with Puck wasn't going to last. If he was going to build the memories to feed his fantasies for the rest of his life, he was going to go for what he wanted. He took a deep breath.

"Come upstairs with me."

For a minute, Dave thought Puck was going to say no. He wasn't sure what he would do if Puck got up and tried to put on his shirt and jeans and walk out. But he didn't. He didn't even bother to pick up his clothes. He stood, completely unselfconscious in his naked tumescence, and headed for the staircase.

Dave followed him up, indicating the correct bedroom, and nodding when Puck asked him with his eyebrow if he should get on the bed. He took a moment to pull the covers down, because okay, he was a gay man, and he just wasn't going to get come on his chenille bedspread.

Puck sat, naked and gorgeous, at the head of the bed with a faint smile on his face. And the best thing is, he's here for me. I don't have to imagine anything. He's really here to do this, with me. It was almost beyond his comprehension.

"You really want this?" Dave had to ask, sitting down next to him.

Puck gave him the duh look of the century. "Nobody made me take my clothes off," he pointed out. "Or suck your cock."

"Good point," he croaked, still within the flush of that experience, now seared into his memory. He obliterated the rest of his embarrassment with a kiss. Puck climbed on top of him, pressing him into the bed and giving him an entirely new view from which to remember him.

"So, you're clean, and I'm clean," Puck said, his voice calm and reasonable and far, far too sexy. He leaned against Dave, his cock pressing into the hollow of his hip. It was clear what he was suggesting, but Dave had taken microbiology, and he knew it was an irresponsible, stupid idea.

"Yeah," said Dave.

"So...?" Puck wasn't letting up. His eyebrow asked the question.

"So it's pretty obvious why you have an eight year old kid." Dave closed his eyes as soon as the words were out, because they'd sounded far crueler than he'd intended. Luckily Puck didn't seem like he was going to take them that way. He just snickered, and smoothly parted Dave's legs with a nudge of his hand.

"Are you implying I'm going to get you pregnant, Karofsky?" Puck shook his head in wonder. "And I always thought you were the smart one."

You're probably wrong about that, Dave thought, his breath coming faster at Puck's touch. This wasn't exactly new territory for Dave, but it had been a long, long time, and it was entirely new to be doing it with Puck. Most of Dave's experience with this particular activity had been solo plus fantasies. Although, if he was going to think about it from that perspective, he and Puck had kind of done this already. In a way.

Luckily, Puck seemed to be as into it as he'd said he would be. Not only that, but the way he touched Dave, the certainty and care with which he prepared and stretched him, gave Dave a pretty good idea about how often Puck had done this before.

"You okay?" Puck asked once, tenderly.

Dave was practically mute with the insanity of it all, but he managed a nod, just before Puck slid into him. And after that, he wasn't thinking about anything else, just he's inside me.

"Don't worry," Puck promised him, tucking his hips and finding the right angle without any trouble at all. "You're gonna be fine."

It was just about the finest he'd ever been. Dave tried not to pay too much attention to the tears on his own cheeks, or the word babe on Puck's tongue. He'd gotten what he'd come for: there was no way, none at all, that he'd ever forget this night. It wouldn't matter too much if they ever did it again, because he'd have the memory of Puck's back arching, Puck straining into him, Puck's wide, clear hazel eyes as he came.

"Dave?" Puck's voice was quiet in the dark room.

Dave turned his head. He'd been almost asleep, but not quite. When he opened his eyes, he still couldn't see Puck's face, but he could make out the shape of him. "Hmmm?"

"You remember. At Finn's party."

He did. He'd remembered, on and off, for ten years. They'd been kids, and the bed had been a mattress on the floor of the Hudsons' guest room, and the covers had been sleeping bags, but other than that... he could see why Puck was thinking about it now.

"Yeah. Of course. I didn't think you would." Dave had kind of thought it was just the kind of thing Puck did, one more in the endless row of things Puck was fine with trying once.

"I remembered." Dave heard his soft sigh, felt him shifting restlessly next to him. It was weird to have somebody else under the covers with him. There was a draft every time Puck moved; Dave couldn't keep the blankets down. "Did I... uh, freak you out? What I did?"

Dave rolled over to his side to look at him, then back. Even in the dark it was easier to talk to the ceiling. Had Puck freaked him out?

Puck went on. "I mean, I can see why we never talked about it. But I always wondered. I felt kind of, I don't know. Bad. Like I did something you didn't want."

"No. I mean, I freaked out, obviously, but not about...you didn't freak me out, I did. It wasn't that I didn't want it. At all. It was more how much I did."

"Huh." He thought Puck might be facing him now, though it was hard to tell. Dave considered reaching out to touch his face, but he resisted the impulse.

"I thought you must have guessed. I mean, the way I was later. Not exactly comfortable with, you know."

Puck snorted. "Dude. Nobody's comfortable with anything in high school."

Dave smiled a little. Puck had seemed pretty comfortable to him, even when his life was kind of a mess.

"I guess. But some people manage to do less damage than others."

"Hey, I'm the one who was dumping Kurt into the trash can every morning at the beginning of sophomore year. Hell if I know why he forgave me for that." He nudged Dave with his foot. "You totally redeemed yourself, anyway. All that shit you did with Santana."

"I think he's just that kind of guy. He shouldn't have forgiven any of us, but he did anyway. And what we did...with our stupid little uniforms, walking people to class, thinking we were making their lives so much better? How does that compare to making someone...to how much I hurt him? It's nothing."

"It wasn't nothing, man," Puck insisted. "You were putting yourself out there - I mean, even if you weren't out, you were there. In harm's way, taking the hit for people who couldn't, or wouldn't, stand up for themselves. How many slushies did you get that year?"

"A few. But, man, did you see Kurt that year? He was so jumpy, like he expected someone to come up and punch him any moment. So I took some slushies, yeah, but that's just cold water. It didn't mean the same thing."

Puck was quiet for a minute, and Dave thought maybe he was going to let him go to sleep, but then he went on. "I can't help but wonder how things would have been different, if we'd - you and me, if we'd..." He sighed. "I don't know. It probably would have sucked. I was such a basket case."

"Yeah, me too. It might have blown up pretty badly." Dave let himself imagine it for a moment. "But maybe - maybe it would have helped. To know that it could be good, wanting someone. That it wasn't just something that made me lose control and turn into an asshole."

"I'm sorry I didn't, then. That I was too chicken to go for what I wanted, instead of what was easy."

Pascal stepped across their legs and made a little nest in the covers between the two of them, kneading the blankets into some semblance of squashy and round and comfortable. He made a tiny ball, purring quietly, in the crook of Puck's knee. Dave reached down and touched his head, and Puck's leg shifted under the covers. That draft again. Dave shivered in the chilly room.

"You cold?"

And then Puck was right up next to him, his body smooth and firm, and it wasn't anything about the sex, just about being two people keeping each other warm. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and relaxed into the length of Puck's arms and legs.

It wasn't easy, being in a bed with another person, but there were benefits, after all.

Dave turned off the alarm almost before it had started ringing. Next to him, Puck was lying naked except for the tiny corner of the covers that Dave hadn't, to his embarrassment, dragged over to his own side of the bed. Puck squirmed a little and made a soft noise, but he showed no signs of actually planning to wake up right away. Dave sat up in the bed, watching him. He probably ought to wake him, since they both had and early class this morning and...shit.

He let himself sit there for a few more minutes, just looking at him. So beautiful. Dave couldn't believe this guy was asleep in his bed. He kind of wanted to cover him up, so he wouldn't be cold, but he also really liked the way he looked right now. All that soft, vulnerable skin just out there, for Dave to watch.

Puck opened his eyes and looked up at Dave for a moment. He closed them again, sighed, stretched, and opened them a second time.

"Mmmmm," Puck said, smiling sleepily. "Damn. Not a dream, then."

Dave was almost disappointed, it might have been easier if Puck had stayed asleep for a while so he could get his plan straightened out. But then Puck opened those eyes and looked straight at Dave with that loose, easy smile, and he couldn't be.

"Good morning."

"You stole all the fucking covers," he murmured, reaching out for Dave's arm. "C'mere. Now you have to warm me up."

Dave wanted nothing more than to do just that. It would be so easy to get back in bed and cover Puck with his own warm body, holding him. But then he remembered that he was the teacher, and he had a class in about an hour, and his most gifted student was the one naked in his bed.

"Sorry, but as your teacher, I don't think I can let you waste your talent lying around in bed all day."

"Well." Puck stretched deliciously, and sighed. "I wouldn't want my teacher to be mad at me for skipping class. Although I wouldn't mind a detention."

Dave stared at him. Of course Puck would go there.

"Yeah, well, we don't really do detentions in college." He smiled a little. Though if anyone would ever make them want to start...it might be Puck.

"Oh, come on, teach. There's all kinds of things they used to do to kids that were bad in class. Don't tell me you don't have a ruler in that desk of yours." Puck's leer was entirely too appealing.

"You'd better come to class, then, or you'll never find out, will you?"

Puck's smile widened and his dimple made Dave pause and stare for a long moment. "I wouldn't skip, teach. You're way too compelling a subject for me to miss." He rolled to a sitting position, scratching his head. "Okay, I'll get out of your hair. You want me to bring you a coffee?"

Dave grabbed on to the safer subject. "Yeah, thanks, that would be great."

Puck really didn't seem to care that he was naked. It was as though it didn't even occur to him. He did a series of stretches that was far too distracting as Dave pulled clean clothes out of his drawers and handed Puck a t-shirt of his own. Puck took it without comment.

"I was going to head back to Lima after class," said Puck, in the midst of pulling the t-shirt over his head.

Dave breathed out. He'd been afraid Puck would ask him to ride with him to class, but here was a good excuse not to.

He didn't look at Dave. "But if you have time... I could pick up some sandwiches for lunch. And, um. Bring them back here."

"You mean, like, go back here for lunch? I don't know if I'll have time for that. I have another class later. But we could probably find some place closer, if you want."

Puck smirked. "Dude." He walked right up to Dave, like the air between them didn't matter anymore, right into his personal space, and put a hand on his chest. It was so much exactly like that first touch had felt last night; Dave was thrown into a moment of déjà vu. He didn't even react when Puck kissed him.

"You really think we're gonna be able to be alone together in a room without getting naked?" he asked softly.

When he put it like that, no, it didn't sound that likely that they would. Which was another good reason to keep lunch in a public space. "I kind of hope so. You know, in case you're the first to show up to class again."

It really was like the sun breaking over the horizon, Dave decided, when he smiled like that. Or some other stupid shit. He sighed at himself. Puck's hand made a quick journey across Dave's neck and down his back, and he chuckled. "Now that's a thought. What about... your office." He raised an eyebrow. "There a lock on that door?"

Dave snorted. "You do know that I share that office with two other people."

"You ever heard of a sock on the door? I'm sure they'd understand."

"Yeah, I'm sure that would go over well. Especially once they realized you're actually my student." It wasn't that funny anymore, when he thought about it like that.

Puck sighed heavily. "You trying to tell me something, Dave?"

Dave sighed too. "I''m trying to tell you that no matter how much I tell myself it's okay because I knew you before and you're my age and don't actually need this grade, I'd still be in a lot of trouble if anyone knew about this."

"Yeah." Puck's mouth tightened into a line, and he stepped back from Dave, watching him with a complicated expression. It couldn't be what Dave thought it was. "Well, I won't jeopardize your career, you can bet on that."

"Hey, don't. If anyone is jeopardizing anything, it's me, okay?" He wanted to take that look off Puck's face, whatever it was. "You have nothing to feel guilty about. I, just...we'll need to be a little bit careful, at least around the math building."

Puck held up his hands. "No guilt here, believe me. But I can take a hint." He headed for the door. "I'll see you in class."

Dave wanted to stop him, but hell, he could take a hint too. He let him leave.