Declarations: lust and war.
Most of the time Puck would have enjoyed his three day suspension, playing video games, hanging out at the store looking depressed until some one bought him a beer. Instead he spent most of his time in his room looking at "Kurt's Cell" trying to decided if he should text him or not. To explain why he had done what he had done. That maybe it was just a precursor of what was to come and that maybe if Kurt could forgive him that he could make it up to him.
He didn't have the balls. He wasn't that badass. He had expected his friends to call him, or text him on his cell phone. That never happened either. It was going to be a very interesting to see what would happen. Who would still be his friend, even though it was Kurt who kicked the crap out of him?
He replayed the fight in his head every time he looked in the mirror. The wounds were still there. He wasn't sure even if his intentions were to hurt Kurt, to win the fight if he could have taken the smaller boy. He realized only after the fight, that Kurt wasn't feeling the pain. His mind was set on kill, and it is possible that Puck could have lost the fight, and then lost Kurt due to the fact that he wouldn't have given up. Tears burned, and begged to be released from Pucks eyes when he thought about how much damage he could have actually have caused the boy. In a fight size doesn't matter, Puck knew this, but it's after the fight the size comes in to play. Had Puck hit him four or five more times, that elegant, soft body would have been in serious pain, and danger, and Kurt wouldn't have, couldn't have stopped himself from continuing to fight!
So there he was, Mr. Studly himself waiting for anything, something. Hour's passed by and the sun had started to settle low in to the sky on his last day of suspension. He laid in his bed looking up at the ceiling holding the two cell phones in his hand. He noticed that he was gripping the cheap, small, pre-paid one the hardest. Then he slowly, slowly drifted off to sleep at 8 P.M
1 A.M.
Something started to wake Puck, it was quite, and felt funny on his hand, his eyes slowly started to open and he placed the phone to his ear, not paying attention.
"Ello?" he said sleepily.
"Good Moring Puck."
"Kurt!" Puck nearly screamed as he set up in his bed.
"It was a long shot calling you. I'm surprised you kept the phone."
"Kurt, seriously I nee-" Puck was cut off. There was not a chance for him to explain.
"Puck, I don't really care. I'm going to destroy you."
Puck sat silent for a few seconds processing what Kurt had just said. Could the boy actually destroy him? It was fairly apparent that Kurt was actually higher up in popularity. Not by much, but the fight probably had spawned some kind of sympathy, which would give the popular vote to Kurt.
"Kurt." Was all Puck could say, hoping that the urgency in his voice would be noticed, and accepted. "I need to explain. Can we at least talk before you try to destroy me?"
There was a pause on the end of the phone, and if it wasn't for the breathing coming from the other end, Puck would have thought that Kurt had ended the conversation.
"It would be good diplomatic relations if I did speak with you. After all, that is what true gentlemen do before going to war. 7 a.m. in the auditorium. If you are one minute late Puck! One minute, I'm going to start ripping you apart."
"I'll be there early! I promise!" Puck said. There wasn't even a chance to say good bye before Kurt hung up the phone.
Puck lay back on his bed, and looked at the ceiling. Kurt had clearly been thinking about this. He hadn't gotten any sleep. He was too awake on the phone to have slept at all. Puck though did have to start planning on what to say. Naturally if Kurt was going to try to take him out, he would need to be ready. Yet his plan wasn't to defend himself against Kurt. Kurt could do his worst. Puck didn't mind. Puck was going to convince him one way or the other to at least make out with him so that he knew what those lips felt like. Before his untimely destruction that was.
7 A.M came slowly to Puck. He had managed to get about three hours sleep before he jumped out of bed. He picked out the best looking shirt, which fit tight to his body. Luckily it was clean. Then his best pair of jeans, that were luckily clean too. He cleaned off his shoes, and brushed his teeth longer then he had before. Put on just the right about of cologne so that if Kurt got close to him he could smell it. Chap stick, just in case they kissed, and of course practiced what he was going to say to Kurt. Tell him that he wanted to have sex with him… Badly.
He walked in to the Auditorium at six fifty five. It was a cold morning. The fog filling his vision until he got in to the school, and as he approached the Auditorium his heart started to race. He took a deep breath, and opened the doors.
There on the stage was Kurt. The sound that came was not what Puck had expected to hear. It was classical, though Puck couldn't tell if it was Chopin, Mozart or The Who.
Kurt was setting there wearing a black "suit." Puck had seen it before, and mentally had made note that Kurt looked like he was an admiral in a sci-fi tv show. At first it was a inside joke to him, now to be honest, it was intimidating because he did look like he was in command. He looked like the bad guy that was going to destroy the poor planet if Puckiea.
Puck approach was slow so that he could take in the notes of the music, and try to figure out what the song was. It sounded, angry, and sorrowful. He walked up on the stage, and watched the boy play. His heart was racing so fast that that he couldn't help but shutter at the sight of the boy. He was scared, and what was worse was when the music stopped, and with out hesitation,
"Good Moring Puck." Kurt's voice was soft, yet the whole auditorium seemed to shake under its power. Puck was speechless, and his eyes stayed transfixed on the boy. Kurt couldn't have seen him, couldn't have known he was there.
Kurt turned around and looked at him. The bruises and the cuts were far less pronounced on Kurt's face. His lips seemed to be healed almost all the way. Compared to Puck his was healing nicely. Puck still couldn't speak.
"Oh, is that shame I see?" Kurt's voice mocked Puck, and suddenly his will power shot straight to his mouth. It wasn't a good.
"No Hummel, Its lust."
Kurt's eyes widen slightly, and his mouth dropped open in surprise, but Puck didn't have to really process the look before Kurt stood up, and pressed his suit down to smooth out wrinkles. He slowly walked over to Puck, who stood his ground, hands in his pocket; head down, as if he were a Rottweiler cowering before his angry master.
Kurt was standing so close to him now that his sent over took Puck. It was some how masculine, and yet elegant. Like the boy had some how managed to fuse motor oil and spring rain together perfectly. He slowly met eyes with the smaller boy who had a slight smile on this lips, his eyes warm, and some how understanding. He slowly lifted his hand, and placed it on the side of Pucks face. He had to fight the urge not to lean into it, but his eyes shut slowly at the sensation of the warm soft hands that had beaten him like a fat kid pounds on a pizza. When he opened his eyes, it was a different person in front of him. It was that kid in the parking lot, the before mentioned Pizza Beater.
Puck once again was shocked at the power that came from the much smaller boy as he was thrown backwards on to his butt. He looked up with shock.
"What the Fu…"
"Puck shut up!" Kurt screamed as he walked over to the bench and grabbed his bag.
"You are a sick son of a bitch. How much trouble are you willing to go through huh!?"
"What the hell Hummel. We're supposed to be talking." Puck retorted as his stood up.
"YOU don't talk. You manipulate and hurt people Puck. That's what you do, well I'm not going to be you're little project! You will cry every time you see me!" Kurt walked off the stage and began his proud strut to the door.
"I already almost cry every time I see you!" Puck shouted. Kurt wasn't phased he kept walking. He adjusted his bag as he went.
"Kurt, Wait!" There was no response; he was almost at the door. "Aren't you sick of being the only one Kurt?"
The elegant strut stopped on a Dime. His shoulder dropped a little, and then he slowly turned and looked at Puck over his shoulder. He didn't say anything. The look his face said he was waiting for Puck to continue.
"Of course you are. All alone until you get out of the god for sake town." Puck jumped of the stage off with the grace of a cat. "So maybe I screwed up, maybe I was a total dick to you all these years, but I realized that you and I are alike. All I'm saying is that you don't have to be alone anymore. You can hate my freaking guts, destroy me, but deep down you know, and I know, that for all the hell I put you through, for all the wrongs I have done you, that you're glad you're not alone. The only reason you're so pissed off is because it's me and not Finn." The whole time he said this he was walking to Kurt until he stopped right in front of him. The boys eyes were down, but they weren't sad, they were thinking, Puck needed to interject before freaking logic got in the way. "Honestly Kurt, it's only you and me. I want you, I won't deny that, but you need me, if only to make your time here more bearable." He moved some hair back from Kurt's ear and looked at him. When Kurt met his eyes there wasn't blinding rage, but sympathy.
"You're right." Kurt said as Puck nearly sighed in relief.
"You're not Finn." Kurt turned and walked away with such bravado Puck nearly broke.
The boy walked out the door, and Puck's vision started to blur the urge to scream was ever present, but suddenly he had an Idea.
"You want Finn so bad Fruit Cake? You got it." He walked out of the school. War is what Kurt wanted… War is what he got.
