Hug - 10 (you're a pussy)
Kiss - 20
Kiss (with tongues) - 50
Grope - 50
Any kind of sexual act (bj, hj, etc)- 100
Meet the parental units - 100
"I love you" - automatic win.
"How is this possible?"
Puck stopped in his tracks.
He had been skipping math (as always) and roaming the campus for a geek to toss in the dumpster when the familiar voice found his ears.
He walked backward, taking careful steps, and peered slyly down the West Wing hallway. His eyes grabbed onto a small figure near the boys bathroom, alone and rather...sticky.
Kurt Hummel with his arms stretched out, obviously examining the entirety of his body, which was covered completely in a purple slush.
"Hummel? What happened to you?" He let his feet carry him closer, one eyebrow raised comically high at the sight of the soprano's indignant face.
"The neanderthals managed," He started, sounding choked, "to slushy my entire Versace outfit - which, by the way, is from the new collection and is new to my wardrobe - and my hair."
"That's rough." Puck stuffed his fists into his pockets and decided that he'd walked into a perfect opportunity. Clearing his throat, he jerked his head toward the locker room. "Hey, uh, I have extra shorts and stuff in my football locker. I mean, if you don't have stuff already."
Kurt did have 'stuff already'. He had at least three extra outfits shoved into his tiny locker, and they were waiting for him just down the hall. But thinking of the scarlet, silk scarf, he pulled himself to his full height and said, "I would appreciate that. Thanks."
Puck stuck his hand into his locker, not bothering to actually look inside, and dragged out his smallest pair of basketball shorts and his favorite black v-neck. He almost stuffed the tee shirt back, but Kurt's teal eyes were on his hands.
"So..these will probably fit you." He passed over the shorts. Kurt accepted them gratefully. "And, uh, this will probably be big on you...My shoulders are bigger than yours and my guns are killer, so..."
He trailed off, unable to remember what he was trying to express. Kurt nodded. "Thank you, Puck. It means -"
"Yeah, just...Make sure to give everything back and stuff." Kurt jerked his head again in agreement. Puck ran a hand over the strip of hair on his head, twitching in the awkward silence.
Kurt's thin fingers found the purple-dyed edges of his designer shirt. Puck had the sudden urge to look away, to hide his face, to give Kurt his privacy.
But something, probably the heated look in Kurt's eyes, the subtle way he was biting the edge of his lip, the way there was some type of magnetic, lustful pull toward the soprano, made Puck unable to remove his eyes.
Kurt pulled his shirt up and off, nimble fingers dragging it carefully over his perfect hair, and let it fall softly onto the floor.
Puck felt the hairs on his arms and neck stand up.
Kurt slipped a hand down his own chest, fingers finding the button on his jeans.
Puck blinked. What was happening? He took a step forward, staring into Kurt's emotion-filled irises, and reached out a hand.
His fingertips brushed the curve of Kurt's neck, where the soft, sticky skin met his shoulder.
At Puck's touch, Kurt let out a soft little moan that made Puck's skin tingle, made heat rush through his veins, made him lower his head and lick a thin line through the purple dye.
Kurt's hands left his waistline and reached to cling at the front of Puck's shirt, pulling the jock's muscled body flush against his own thin frame.
Puck moved his mouth upward, licking a clean path up Kurt's sticky neck, and placed a soft kiss on the very corner of his parted lips. He wanted to give him a real kiss. A hot, gasp-worthy kiss that Kurt would never forget, no matter how long he lived.
He was so very close to kissing him, when something in his brain clicked.
The bet.
What was it, 10 points for a kiss?
Suddenly, he didn't want to kiss Kurt so much anymore.
Suddenly, it wasn't pure.
He stepped back, almost tripping over his own feet. Kurt's fingers left the front of his tee shirt, leaving little wrinkled spots where his hands had clenched the fabric.
Puck a few more stumbling steps, unable to walk properly. His jeans felt uncomfortably tight.
For a heart fluttering second, Kurt looked as though he was going to say something, anything, to make Puck stay.
But his mouth closed, a little smirk falling onto his lips like he knew something Puck didn't.
Like there was a little secret just under the surface, floating under his teal irises.
"It needs to be all or nothing."
Sam looked up from his sheet music. "Huh?"
"I need to up the stakes."
"Why?" He pushed a hand through his blonde hair. Puck felt like taking a pair of scissors the Bieber bangs.
"Do you have to ask questions?" Because he wanted to kiss Kurt without feeling like a total douche. Although, he realized, upping the stakes might not fix that problem. Sam shrugged a shoulder.
"Alright, whatever. It's your pride and badassness that we're betting here."
There was the whoosh of a door opening; Puck glanced over his shoulder and watched Kurt and Mercedes flounce into the choir room. He was wearing the v-neck, but Puck's basketball shorts had been replaced by a tight pair of skinny jeans. The sight was enough to make goosebumps rise on the jock's tan skin. Lowering his voice and leaning closer to the blonde, he whispered, "'I love you'."
"Thanks, man, but I -"
"No, dude. 'I love you'. In a week. That's how I win."
Sam raised an eyebrow and looked past him, obviously locking onto Kurt's face. "Alright."
Mercedes laced her fingers into Kurt's, pulling him close. "Who's shirt is that?"
Kurt smoothed the fabric, liking the way the cotton felt under his fingers. He leaned over to sniff his own shoulder. "Well, it smells like Axe and hazelnut coffee. Two guesses?"
"Puckerman?" Her eyes snapped to the jock, who was leaning against the piano, talking to Sam in hushed tones. "Damn, boy, you've got more moves than a chicken in heat."
Kurt blinked. "That's disgusting and revolting and I cannot believe you just said that."
"Yeah, well..."
"He hasn't even kissed me yet, Cedes." There was a little smile of his face. "He just gave me the shirt because I'd been slushied."
Mercedes lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed. "What are you, some type of magical seducer?"
Kurt laughed. "Just you wait, Ms. Jones. Wait and see. In one week, I will make Noah Puckerman fall in love with me."
Mercedes gave an evil smile. "One scarlet scarf, coming your way."
Review, por favor.
