Woo long chapter! Got a bit carried away I'm afraid... somehow nothing much seems to happen and its the longest chapter yet... Oh well, thanks for reading! Enjoy, review if you like it :D


Chapter 7

Puck was sitting in Spanish when he realised it. Mr Schue was wittering on about 'por' and 'para' for the umpteenth time, and Puck, as usual, had lost interest as soon as he entered the classroom. So it was kind of inevitable that, at some point in the lesson, Puck's attention would wander to the small brunette boy sitting at the front of the class.

He studied the back of Kurt's head intently: the perfectly styled hair held in place by cans and cans of lacquer, his petite shoulders rising and falling gently as he made notes. Puck pondered what his hair might be like without all the product – he imagined it unkempt and soft, Puck's fingers running through it...

And then it hit him. Literally: Karofsky had thrown a screwed-up bit of paper at the back of Puck's head.

He took no notice.

Thinking of Kurt in this way, Puck had realised something with a small jolt of surprise. Even after the last few days, the growing infatuation with Kurt, it had never even crossed his mind. It had just made itself clear after all these years, and he had accepted it, without even considering what it was.

He was gay.

Sure, he'd gone after loads of girls, but the only motive behind that was that he wanted to sleep with them...

But with Kurt... He just wanted to make him happy, he wanted to hold his hand as they walked together, he wanted to feel his lips against his. And if that made him gay, then so be it. Puck didn't care. He didn't care about the labels, the insults, anything. All he cared about was Kurt, and hoping against hope that his instinct was correct: that Kurt felt the same way.

Unfortunately, this revelation came to Puck just as Mr Schuester asked him a question. For the third time.

He came back to his senses with a jolt.

"Uhh... I don't know," he said quickly.

"Exactly, Puck," Mr Schue said sternly, "now, stop staring at the front desk, wipe that grin off your face and start taking notes. You have a test next week."

Puck sat up straight then, flushing with chagrin. He kept his head down.

Kurt's ears pricked up a little when he heard Mr Schue ranting at Puck. "Stop staring at the front desk and wipe that grin off your face?" Kurt was sitting at the front desk... And he was sitting there alone...

So, Puck was staring at him. And... grinning? The blood in Kurt's veins tingled excitedly, and he resisted the urge to look round at Puck. He just wanted a quick look, to see if he still stared in Kurt's direction. Kurt's lips pressed into a tight line and he turned round in his chair.

Puck's head was down, but Kurt could see he was peering at him from underneath his thick, dark eyelashes. Puck's stomach clenched as he saw Kurt looking curiously in his direction. He smiled a little, not enough for Mr Schue to notice, but Kurt understood. He half-smiled back, and then turned back to his notes, his breathing a little shallower than before...


All Puck wanted was to see Kurt again, but lunchtime posed a great opportunity for something else, something that, now he knew, was inevitable.

"Quinn," Puck approached her a little breathlessly.

"Hey," she said, smiling. The baking session a few days beforehand was still clear in her mind. Puck, on the other hand, had nearly forgotten all about it...

"I just wanted to let you know..." He took a deep breath, "I hope you and Finn are happy together. No-one need know the baby's mine – I won't tell a soul. You two can keep it as your own."

"What?" Her face fell a little; she sounded disappointed, sullen almost, as she questioned him, "had a change of heart have we?"

"Don't start, Quinn," Puck shook his head seriously, "this is what you want, isn't it? For me to butt out, so you can be with Finn. He loves you, you know."

"But..." Quinn's single word echoed with unsaid contradictions: Finn's inability to provide for their baby, his strange affinity for Rachel Berry...

"What's up, Puck?" She said slightly bitterly.

"I-" Puck started, but the gravity of the situation was too much. He had no words to explain how he felt at that moment, "I don't know," he said simply, his voice shaking slightly. Quinn sensed his distress; she didn't question him further, just laid a comforting, worried hand on his elbow. Puck nodded gratefully, his lips pressed together as he took a last look at her before striding quickly to his own locker.

Puck took a series of deep breaths. As much as he had accepted his sexuality without question, it was clear to him that he was not ready to tell anyone yet. His heart still thumped unevenly as he thought of what people might think... What Quinn might think, or Finn... or... Kurt.

Kurt would understand.

Well then, Puck thought to himself, you have your answer, don't you? As hard as it would be to say the words out loud to another person, Puck knew deep down that it would make all the difference between him and Kurt. And he also knew that it could be wonderful...


"Oh, what?" Kurt groaned as he read the message on his cell.

"What's up?" Mercedes looked up from her pizza as they sat in the canteen.

"Dad has to stay late at the garage tonight, so he can't pick me up from school," Kurt said sulkily, "see, this is why I keep telling him he should give me my car back! Honestly, I don't see what the problem was. It's only a tiara collection." Kurt pouted unhappily.

"And a very nice tiara collection it is, too," Mercedes said comfortingly, trying to keep the laugh out of her voice, "and I'm sorry Kurt, but I can't give you a lift either. I'm walking up to Tina's as soon as school's out."

"Well, I'm not gonna walk all the way home. My shoes'll get ruined," Kurt said, more to himself now.

He moved a leaf of lettuce around his plate absent-mindedly with his fork, wondering what he could do. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he was acutely aware of someone watching him. He turned his head a fraction to the right; Azimio was doubled over with laughter, and Karofsky still had a finger pointed in Kurt's direction. Kurt vaguely wondered what the joke was this time, but figured it was probably nothing he hadn't heard before.

But that couldn't be what caused his slight discomfort; he could still feel the weight of a stare on him, long after the jocks had gone back to their plates piled high with food. He looked to the left, and for the second time that day, made eye contact with Puck. He was sitting alone on the table in the far corner, slouching in his chair, a half-eaten burger on his plate.

Kurt had an idea.

"I'll be back in a sec," Kurt said absently to Mercedes and started to meander through the crowd to get to Puck's table. Mercedes stared after him as she realised where he was headed, Kurt could now feel her eyes on him, but he didn't care. He might be about to kill two birds with one stone, here; the two birds in question being getting a ride home, and also finding out exactly where he stood with Puck.

Puck started to smile as he saw Kurt approach where he sat; he couldn't help himself. Kurt blushed, and immediately hated himself for it: why did his pale, prone-to-go-red-at-any-moment complexion always give him away just when he really needed to keep his composure? He rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of the chair opposite Puck.

"Hey," he said in a small voice, looking down at his hands, "umm... I was just wondering if- well, actually... first, I wanted to apologise for yesterday," he nervously met Puck's warm eyes, but found it too distracting; he focused on a dent on the table's surface instead. "I didn't mean to... make you uncomfortable; I just meant that... you know, I appreciate what you did for me."

Puck still lounged in his chair.

"It's cool," he shook his head, dismissing the apology, "I know what you meant." Kurt nodded slowly, eyes wide as he hoped that meant Puck knew Kurt wasn't being provocative. Or was he? Looking back, it was pretty bad. He blushed again.

"So... Now, I just wanted to ask a favour...?" Kurt fingers trembled slightly, but his voice was stronger now he had seen that he hadn't offended Puck, and that Puck hadn't insulted him. Yet, anyway.

Puck sat up a little straighter and folded his hands on the table in front of him.

"Go on," he smiled a little, looking straight at Kurt. His heart beat a little faster in anticipation.

"You know you said you were up for giving me a ride home? Well," Kurt took a deep breath, "I was just wondering if I could take you up on that offer. If-" he added quickly, "if it's not too much bother or anything. It's just that my Dad has to stay late at work and-"

"Sure, no problem," every cell in Puck's body tingled in nervous excitement, but he contained it, simply smiling at Kurt, who looked a little surprised.

"Wow, ok," he said, caught off-guard, "I didn't think you were actually going to say yes... I thought I'd at least have to do something in return..."

"What sort of thing did you have in mind?" Puck raised an eyebrow, smirking. Kurt gave a small nervous laugh. This was... weird.

"Maybe a dumpster dive, or two?" Kurt tried to steer the conversation away from the innuendo-ed path it seemed to have taken. It worked: the smirk was wiped off Puck's face , and now it was his turn to feel embarrassed. The phone call, the bullying, it all came back to him.

"Listen, Kurt," he said, frowning and leaning even closer still, "I'm really sorry about... all those times, with the dumpster, and the Slushees, and-"

But Kurt cut him off.

"It's fine," he said, a little too shortly. Puck looked nothing less than ashamed, but Kurt's expression relaxed somewhat as he rephrased.

"Look, I'm not just gonna forget about everything you've put me through – I just can't do that. But, I guess, I am willing to forgive you, in time. You've made a good start already," Kurt gave a small laugh, "for reasons I cannot fathom, but you seem to have turned over a new leaf."

You have no idea, thought Puck.

"And I guess giving me a ride home wouldn't be a step in the wrong direction, so... thanks," Kurt was surprised at how easy it had become to talk to Puck in those few minutes, after they had gotten over all the awkwardness.

"Really, it's no problem," Puck was filled with more admiration for Kurt than ever; he could do nothing but stare into his intense blue eyes, "I'll meet you by your locker after last period?"

"Ok," Kurt said, shy again now, "thanks, you've saved my life. And my shoes."

No! Kurt thought to himself, you always have to ruin it with stupid comments, don't you?

He stood up awkwardly and walked back to the table where Mercedes was waiting, her jaw hanging open slightly.

"See ya," Puck called after him, still slightly confused about the shoe comment.

"What was that?" Mercedes looked shocked as Kurt sat down opposite her, as if nothing had happened.

"I'm... getting a lift home with Puck," he said innocently, "yeah. We're... sort of friends now. I guess."

Mercedes looked sceptical.

"What you are doing, Kurt?" she berated him, "don't you see this is just another ploy to beat you up, or throw you into a garbage can somewhere? You have to be careful about these things! Keeping your shoes in good condition is not worth that much, Kurt."

"Mercedes! This is not about my shoes. It was down to Puck that now I get to sing at Sectionals!" he lowered his voice, but the exclamation was still apparent.

"Yeah, but..." she didn't look convinced.

"Honestly, I got this," he pouted slightly. Mercedes was not going to ruin his moment with Puck, "I think he's changed. For the better."

Mercedes' mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water: she saw how serious Kurt was, so she wasn't going to argue, but... she just didn't want him to get hurt.


Last period couldn't go quick enough for either of them. Kurt sat by the window in History, not listening to a word their teacher was saying. His stomach squirmed excitedly: even though he knew there was no way Puck could feel the same way about him, he relished the prospect of being alone with him for the good twenty-minute drive to Kurt's house. He thought about how close they would be, how Puck's hand would rest on the handbrake just a few inches from Kurt's body. No matter what happened, at least he would have that moment...

Puck had Gym class, and it was fair to say that he had never played a worse game of football. Twice the ball had hit him on the head now, simply because he was not paying any attention whatsoever to the game.

Should he tell Kurt tonight? Or was it too soon, too weird, after only a few days of interaction between them? He thought about the conversation they had had earlier, how easy it was to talk to him, how nothing else mattered when Kurt spoke, even when he was discussing Puck's appalling treatment of him. But they seemed to have made a start, anyway, and Puck couldn't wait to see him again, to continue the conversation and prove that he could make it up to him, somehow.

The phone call tucked away into the back of his mind, Puck decided that that was something no-one ever needed to know. Especially not Kurt.


Kurt rushed to his locker as soon as the bell rang; for once in his life he was glad they didn't have Glee rehearsal. He shoved his books into his messenger bag and waited nervously. He shuffled his feet around, watching the students file past him noisily.

Where was Puck?

The last few stragglers had just vacated the corridor, and Kurt was beginning to lose hope when he heard running footsteps coming from around the corner. Puck jogged to a halt in front of Kurt, panting slightly.

"Sorry, man," his face was pink from the exertion, "I had Gym last period – had to shower and all that."

"That's ok," Kurt replied, "I haven't been waiting long, anyway."

"Great. Let's go," Puck started off down the corridor, a towel thrown over one shoulder, a smiling Kurt by his side...