AN: Wherein Puck is like a freaking yenta for hopeless dweebs. Only, you know, with a dirty mouth.
Puck fought to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head. This was moronic. On the levels of truly, mind numbingly idiotic, this evening with the Beavers would top the list. Puck watched Sam edge still closer to Kurt until he was carefully balanced on one butt cheek. He had to give Sam credit; the boy had been working Kurt for weeks now – months if you counted the "studying" play. But watching him watch Kurt…he was getting a sympathetic case of blue balls.
Across the table was bizarro land, aka the Finn and Rachel show. Frankenteen kept reaching over to touch the prima donna. His hand would hover over some innocent body part like he was diffusing a bomb. When he finally touched down, Rachel would shudder and then lean into it. Her face was the same one she wore after a performance. It was her "Yes, I deserve this" face. Puck, when he bothered to think about it, guessed that Finn was deeply masochistic. It was the only thing that explained Quinn AND Rachel AND Santana. Dude needed to learn how to love himself.
Last, but not least, Ma and Pa Hudmel were making kissing faces over beer and meatloaf. It was kinda disgusting to see two ancients getting it on like a couple of necking teenagers. On the other hand, Carole was a bit of a MILF now that Kurt had gotten ahold of her. Shit, he hoped he was still banging the hot chicks when he was as old as Mr. Hummel. He gave the old man a wink and ignored the puzzled look he got back.
Screw this. Puck didn't even know why he was here, so he might as well load up on the free food. At least the stuffing beat out Mr. Wong's cashew chicken. Reaching for another helping, he made the mistake of meeting Kurt's gaze. The younger boy shot a glance at his dad, who was busy feeding a bite to his new wife, and then rolled his eyes. Puck smirked in reply. He totally got that. And just to prove he was still a dick, Puck slid his gaze to the tottering teen on Kurt's left. Kurt followed the look and flinched backwards, nearly falling out of his own chair. Dude, this was better than Skinamax. Well, okay, maybe not that good, but this was the most fun he'd had at someone else's expense since Mercedes made him stop dumpster tossing nerds. He snickered evilly around his spoon. Kurt's head snapped around and Puck felt his blood chill a few degrees. He swallowed painfully. He hadn't forgotten his slashed tire. His gaze dropped to his plate and stayed there for the rest of his meal.
"What the hell was that?" Kurt hissed as his grip tightened on Puck's elbow.
Puck glanced down at the hand that didn't come close to wrapping around his guns. "Dude, you know I don't play that way."
"Noah." It figured Kurt had perfected the art of the mom-tone. "Keep your voice down."
"Why? Burt's still interrogating him, which, can I say, is reason number 523 that we will never date."
"You are touched in the head if you think you ever needed a list."
"I was being facetious." Puck pulled away from Kurt and went to flop on the hard-as-a-rock couch. He glanced back and noticed that Kurt hadn't moved. "Yes, I know a big word. Try not to faint."
Kurt waved his hand as if clearing the air of obnoxious fumes, or you know, waving away an argument, before coming over to perch on the arm of the couch. "Could we focus on me now? Or rather, Sam."
Puck let his head loll back so he could see Kurt's reaction when he told him, "Blondie's hot for your junk. You should totally tap that."
"Don't be crude or stupid," Kurt waspishly denied. He reached down to straighten the cuff of some fru-fru Boys-to-Men jacket. If his cheeks hadn't turned bright red, Puck might have believed he was as disinterested as he was acting. "There is no such thing as a gay football player. At least not in high school."
"Now who's being stupid? Sam definitely bats for the friends of Dorothy and he definitely likes your marshmallow behind."
Kurt punched him in the arm. "Christ, Hummel. That hurt!"
Kurt punched him again in the same spot. "Take that back right now." He cocked his arm back for a third go. "Take it back!"
Puck grabbed Kurt by the collar and hauled him into a headlock, head down into the couch. He smacked the part in question, then let Kurt up. "It's better than Santana's," he said with a shrug.
Kurt looked mad enough to spit. His hair was messed all to hell and his cheeks were flushed again. He was breathing hard too. Dude looked like somebody had been climbing that cherry tree. If somebody up there liked Sam, the blonde would be walking through the door right now.
"You asshole. How dare you put your monkey paws on me?"
"Hold the indignation, princess. I'm not done yet." He moved swiftly to get out of hitting, and on second thought kicking range, before yelling up the stairs, "Sam!"
"Noah," Kurt hissed, a hand flying to his hair.
"Leave it," Puck told him. "Trust me. If that boy doesn't jump you now, he's gonna need a roadmap for anything else you're going to do."
Kurt ran at Puck like he was going to tackle him. He easily caught the other boy's wrists, but keeping ahold of him was another story. The sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs heralded the arrival of the cavalry.
"Sam! Grab his feet." Sam smiled and gladly helped Puck wrestle Kurt onto the sofa. "Are you going to be nice if we let you go?"
"Screw you, Puckerman." Kurt's squirming efforts doubled. Puck didn't know what Kurt thought they were going to do to him, but it wasn't like he had any of his preferred instruments of torture lying around.
"Haven't we already had this conversation?" He nodded to Sam. "You know what to do."
Like a well-oiled machine, Sam let go of Kurt's legs to lay his chest over Kurt's lower half. Kurt's eyes widen in disbelief and he suddenly stopped moving. Sam, however, ignored the change and gleefully dug his fingers into Kurt's sides. Kurt shook, his body bowing upwards before Sam pressed him flat again. Together they struggled against each other. Both had started laughing. Kurt looked like he couldn't breathe, he was laughing so hard. Sam shifted a leg up onto the couch for better leverage and then rippled his fingers again along Kurt's stomach. Kurt arched, Sam pushed down, and both boys froze. Puck waited for one of them to move, but both were laying there like someone had a gun trained on them.
Puck tugged on Kurt's arms to get his attention. Kurt started, as if just now realizing he was there. "You should pony up and kiss him already."
"Kurt?" Sam queried.
Kurt closed his eyes and buried his face in the bend of his arm. "Please let me go."
Sam started to release his hold, but the look Puck shot his way stopped him. "Kurt, it's okay." When he didn't get an answer, Sam looked to Puck for further instructions. While he waited, his hands did a little walking, soothing over Kurt's side gently. One thumb was rubbing the skin between his shirt and his pants.
"Puck, Sam, please. This isn't funny anymore."
Puck let go of Kurt's hands to flick him in the nose. "Would you open your damn eyes and look at what your boy is doing?"
The flicker of pain was enough to shock Kurt out of his misery. He glanced down out of reflex. "What are you doing, Sam?"
Sam pulled his hands away as if he had been burned.
Puck fought like super hard not to roll his eyes. "He was feeling you up."
"Sam?"
"I'm sorry." Sam shifted and Kurt's hand flew down to grab his shoulders. Delicately and without closing his eyes, Kurt leaned up to place a kiss on Sam's lips. Sam, likewise, didn't seem to want to close his eyes. When Kurt moved away, Sam followed, deepening the kiss.
"Well thank fuck for that," Puck stood.
"Go away," Kurt muttered.
"You're welcome," Puck called back as he made his way up the stairs and closer to the last of Carole's homemade cookies. A moan from each end of the scale was his only answer.
Kurt owed him now. Maybe he could help Puck get back in good with Aretha. Papa was in the mood for some chocolate thunder. This totally proved he was all rehabilitated and shit now, going out of his way to help pathetic losers, right? Wasn't that what the woman had wanted? Whatever, Puck decided. His mistake last time had been going in without a translator. This time he was going to have Ladyface as his go-between and he was going to rock her world. He started humming "Daddy's home" under his breath as he pulled out the plate of cookies and a glass of milk.