A/N: Once again thanks to you peeps who are blessing me with reviews and all the wondeful comments. Love that you guys are diggin it thus far! They really do make my day. To Panic'sNearlyWitches, I took your advice with this chap and spliced a few together and I hope that it flows nicely. I have a good chunk of this story done hence my ability to post a few chaps a day; my hope in posting separately is to get a good build up going and incite that angsty angst so please don't let that deter you too much from continuing. Also I forgot to put a disclaimer for the song from last chappy, so yep, I don't own Sting or his music. The song is called 'Fields of Gold,' but the version Puck was playing was actually Eva Cassidy's version. Both are beautiful but that one makes me tingle. Also the song 'Smile' which I honestly don't know who owns or has rights to, but not I said the cat.

Dr. Schuester was paid to be perceptive. He was trusted to delve through a kid's bull shit, see their faults, see the root of the issue.

But with one Noah Puckerman, he had always been left dissatisfied with his inability to crack the code. He couldn't quite reach him; not through the layers of brick surrounding his heart.

He spent countless hours probing, then being patient, validating, doing anything to get something from him. All he received in return was a few choice swear words, threats, manipulated observations, and overall defiance.

Until now.

Lately the ice had been melting.

Lately the kid had been taking his meds on schedule, engaging in the group sessions, even giving advice to some of his peers during the group disclosures... He had been less distant and so much less hostile.

Lately he almost looked... Dare he think it: Happy.

And Dr. Schuester was honestly baffled. What the hell had happened?

Was it the threat of serious prison time that eventually kicked the kid square in his ass and initiated this sense of motivated change?

Maybe.

Whatever it was. He was going to go with it.

"You look well Mr. Puckerman."

Puck guided his dark eyes away from the book case and looked over at the Doc.

"Damn dude. Lose the 'Mr.' thing it sounds weird. I told you, Puck works for me. That's how I define myself. Just Puck. Cool?"

Dr. Schuester is amused by this. Polite, or as polite as Puckerman has ever managed anyway. He'd take it.

"Sure. Puck it is. So I figured today we can just talk about whatever you want to."

"Not much to say."

"I don't know if I'd say that."

Puck narrows his eyes, not in an unfriendly way, just curious. "What do you mean?"

"Just that you seem different lately."

"Why?"

"You tell me."

Puck wasn't stupid. He had an idea of where this shit was probably going.

"Look. I just don't like the idea of bein' in lock down with a shit ton of murderers and rapists and shit. I'd rather take my chances with the crazies. If I gotta take these happy pills, and sing khumbaya or whatever for that to happen... Then it's whatever."

"I can't say I disagree with the change I've been seeing."

Puck smirks. "I guess it makes it a little easier on ya, huh Doc?"

"A bit. But I'm glad to see you looking happy."

Puck is a bit taken aback by that statement. Happy... He'd never considered it. Sure he'd been feeling more... Light, he supposed. Happy though? That was a relatively crazy notion to him.

"Hey Doc?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever been in love before?"

Now it was Dr. Schuester's turn to be taken aback. But of course, years of learning to be neutral to the most heart wrenching information allows him to hide his emotion.

"Yes. I have."

"I haven't. I've fucked a lot of people. Even told some that I loved em' but..." He trailed off into a pinched silence.

"It's a unique feeling. Unique among every other emotion in my opinion. I think because it sort of encompasses so many emotions at once. You feel like you might even burst under the weight of it all."

"Yeah... It sort of hurts a lot, at the same time, it feels like, perfect or something."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"In love?"

"No. I just-I was just thinkin' that's all."

"Hm. Okay."

Puck was biting his lip, filling up with tension as Dr. Schuester watched him with that fucking look: the one that said he knew more then Puck was actually saying.

"My idea of love was what my Granny showed me. She protected me, and tried her best to be good to me. When she died... I dunno, I just-I got lost. My Mom abandoned me and I got thrown in the system. I forget how many houses and group homes I've been in. I honestly lost count. But I just knew I never wanted to be like her... Like my Mom."

"What do you mean Puck?"

"I didn't want to make someone love me and then just leave."

"So it's easier to push them away?"

"Yeah. It is."

Dr. Schuester leans back in his chair; his fingers laced together in front of his face.

"It's scary. Love can be a tremendously scary thing. But in truth, we can't function as human beings without it. It's as essential as eating, sleeping, hell even breathing. It hurts when we lose it, or when we give it away to someone who doesn't return it. But life without love, just isn't really living. So we learn to take the risk despite how it may have burned us in the past."

"Ya know what's kind of nuts?"

"Do tell."

"I've spent my whole life doin' stupid shit. Takin' risks or whatever. But that one, that love shit. That risk scares the fuck outta me the most."

Dr. Schuester eyes the teen thoughtfully, leaning forward with a jovial expression.

"Puck, most people are scared shitless of that. You're definitely not alone there."

Puck sighs contentedly. He would've laughed if he could muster it. It wasn't often if ever that he heard the Doc utter a curse word.

What in the fuck made him ask that question? Those pills must really be messing with his head, making weird shit spring out of his mouth... Well, weirder shit then his version of normal anyway.

But while Puck was contemplating his confusion, Dr. Schuester was secretly high fiving himself. In their brief but very memorable history together, Noah Puckerman had never opened up like he had today.

Unless you counted all the times he had threatened to burn this place down.

"Yo, Lady!"

Kurt glances up - just for a second - quirks his lips, and looks back at the beadwork in his hands.

"Noah," he replies simply.

Puck joins him at the table. This time he watches the boy sitting across from him, no real inclination to disturb him.

"Can I help you with something?"

Puck shakes his head. "Nah. I was just bored. Wondered where you were."

Puck isn't sure but he thinks he glimpses Kurt's pink lips stretch upward ever so slightly.

"Hm. I guess this is sort of becoming our impromptu meeting place."

Kurt had referenced it. Puck was a bit surprised that he would even allude to or in any way mention their strange encounter in this very room the other night. Puck can't help but glance over at the piano sitting quietly and untouched in the corner, acting as a sort of immobile secret keeper. Puck isn't sure what to say in response to this, so instead he grabs a piece of string and begins digging in the plastic container housing various multi colored beads.

He starts threading away. Not sure what colors he's piecing together. He didn't really care. Just needed the distraction while sitting across from the other kid. They sit in a comfortable silence. No words necessary. Puck had to admit, it was sort of nice.

"She told me that I could come home."

"What?"

"My Mother. When she came the other day. She said I could come home."

"Will he be there?"

Kurt swallowed. Puck figured out what that meant without words. It didn't stop Kurt from saying it anyway.

"Yes. He'll still be there," he whispers shakily.

"Then it's simple. You won't be goin' back."

Kurt looks up at him, his eyes shining. "What?" He breathes out.

"You won't be goin' back. I mean - you can't seriously be entertainin' the idea of bein' back there with the guy. No - Just - No way."

"I'm not. I won't. But... Just for a moment. A second even, I felt like... My Mother actually missed me. That I could be going home to my Mom. The one who actually cared for me, loved me unconditionally... Made stupid necklaces with me when I was just figuring out that I wasn't like every other little boy. Stupid, right?"

Puck sighs heavily. "No. It's not stupid. It makes perfect sense. Well, if that exists. Perfect sense I mean."

Kurt nods sadly; his smile fading into a wry representation of the shy yet honest one it had been a few minutes before.

"Things have never made much sense to me in my life. Why would they suddenly start to now?"

"Amen, Lady."

"I thought you were Jewish?"

Puck doesn't get pissed for some reason like he normally would have. He just shrugs his broad shoulders in amusement.

"Like Jew fro Israel himself? Whatever. I don't claim it."

"That was a rather brave, enormously robust understatement."

It was obvious Kurt was looking for Puck to elaborate. Puck rolls his eyes and continues, if anything to help the kid keep his thoughts from lingering on his fuck stain of a Mother.

"I never had a Dad. He wasn't around. But my Mom named me after the douche for whatever retarded reason. I'm a Noah Puckerman Junior. And I fuckin' can't stand it. Never really could."

"If there is such a thing as perfect sense, that indeed makes perfect sense."

Puck smiles at Kurt's words. "Ya know Lady? I sort of like you."

Kurt's cheeks tint red. Puck had to hold back the grin he felt dying to spread over his face at the sight.

"When you're not being gay that is," He adds hastily.

"Hm. That's weird. Didn't know that I could pick or choose when I can be gay. Interesting notion. Remind me to try that some time."

"Duly noted Fancy."

Puck decides to add another note to himself: he's never said those words aloud to another dude before. He can't even recall saying those words to any chicks for that matter. Not sincerely anyway.

Those fucking pills are seriously screwing with his manhood.

Thank God or whoever was handling heavens gates that Jacob grabbed a fucking clue and decided to sit out. He might as well have asked Lady to join him instead. Seriously. The little Jewtard sucked that bad.

So right... Now he was looking at a narrow victory. That Sam kid was freaking determined today and him having that other guy Nick on his team was definitely putting them at an advantage. Nick was about Puck's height, thinner build but definitely an actual athlete with some speed.

Puck dribbles slowly while observing his situation. Lucky Charm, who was unfortunately his team mate was attempting to get open.

The little shit was short, true enough, and he had a weird jump shot. But most of the time it did go in, and he was pretty feisty when it counted. Puck is sure that the rumor about him trying to kill his sponsoring family is probably true after witnessing moments when he gets all tenacious and sort of beserk on the basketball court... Like an angry chihuahua snapping his little jaws and nipping people.

They have an audience again. A few more people lining the bleachers including Jacob, Mercedes and Tina (Kurt had made sure that Puck memorized their names before agreeing to speak with him again), a few other girls from a different ward, and of course Lady face himself.

He had long since lost his shirt. His hospital pants hanging low on his hips as the draw string keeps the things from slipping down completely and showing off his dick.

Not that he would mind. He's pretty proud of his member.

"Dude, are you gonna do something or just fuckin' stand around?"

Nick. Stupid Bieber lookin' Bastard. Well... the brunette version... And why does Puck know that?

Puck decides then that he needs to rush them. So he smirks, goes left, does an excellent cross over leaving Nick stumbling and moves to take a jumper. Just as he pulls up, he fakes and passes out to the Irishman at the last second.

Lucky Charm nearly drops the ball out of surprise but he's able to hang on and put up a quick, albeit uncoordinated lay up for the win.

"Sweet! Alright Matthew McConaughey and Bieber clone. That'll be game!"

Puck actually feels excited about it. It was a hell of a run. He can't even stop himself from seeking out Lucky Charm and slapping him a high five. The kid is wearing a shocked expression, but just as quickly he lets it pass and gives a genuine grin at Puck's unexpected antics.

"Now get the fuck outta my gym!" Puck taunts good naturedly, clapping Sam on the back with fervor.

"Whatever Dude. One time. You get all overexcited over one win."

"I'll take what I can get Beach boy."

Sam shakes his head while chuckling. He and Nick stalk off, Bieber twin murmuring under his breath as they exit the gym.

Puck registers several other 'thud' sounds signalling that others have also took it upon themselves to leave now that the game was done. Honestly, Puck didn't even look over to see. He was too absorbed in the post game euphoria as he lined up to take some free throws.

He hits his first. Sighs in content. Then lines up for another which he sinks just as easily.

"Did you play when you were younger?"

Puck feels the smile behind his lips but doesn't show it. He stares forward, his eyes focused on the rim as he readies himself for his third go.

"Yeah. I stayed out a lot. I used to play at Parks and stuff. Kept me busy." He shoots and sinks the third shot with a soft 'swish' sound.

Kurt watches him from a few feet away, his eyes also trained ahead on the basket.

"Did you ever play in school?"

"Nah. Never had the grades for a school team."

"That's too bad. You're actually pretty good. Not that I'm an expert but you seem to make a lot of baskets."

"You're definitely not an expert. And are you being faggy right now?"

"I think you would know if I was being 'faggy' as you so intelligently put it."

Kurt looks at him purposefully when saying this, a mischievous glint in his blue orbs.

Puck narrows his eyes, his tongue darting over his lips. Either he really was a fucking loon, or Fancy pants had just challenged him. In a suspiciously flirtatious way might he add.

"You really can't turn it off can you, Lady?"

Kurt huffs defensively. He then steps in front of Puck and squares his shoulders.

"Play me."

"What?"

"You heard me. I said play against me Puckerman. Unless you're scared."

The little diva had used his last name. Something he never does. This was getting interesting.

"Fine. Check up." Puck passes the ball to Kurt who catches it in an awkward grip and stares back at Puck with a cutely vague expression.

Holy fuck! Did he just think the look was 'cute'?

Puck exhales slowly and then states, "Check up. It means I toss it in to you, then you pass it back. Then you have to defend me from gettin' to the hoop."

"Oh. Right. Check up. Got it." Kurt gives a girly bounce pass which Puck retrieves from by his feet and begins to dribble.

Kurt has his hands out, his tongue poked out in concentration, his long legs barely bent as he wildly swipes at the ball.

"Wait, wait, wait. Fancy. What the shit are you doin'?"

"Trying to take the ball. What's it look like?"

"Like you're tryin' to hold in your shit while blindly clawing for toilet paper. Here," Puck puts the ball down and steps behind Kurt.

Kurt visibly shivers, his body becoming rigid.

Fuck. Idiot.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have just stepped behind you like that."

There was a pause. Then Kurt nodded stiffly.

"N-no. It's okay. Really."

"Are you sure?"

Kurt nods again, a little more self assured. "Yes."

"Okay. Um. I have to - is it okay - if I put my hands on your sides? Only for a second. Promise."

Lady breathes in a shaky breath, then exhales. "Okay."

"Alright. First: when you play defense, you have to keep your knees bent and your legs spaced apart."

He waits while Kurt gets into position, then continues. "Second: you have to slide your feet in order to keep up with your opponent. If you cross them, you're likely to trip up and get left in the dust. Let's start by goin' left."

Puck gently places his hands on Kurt's sides from behind and slides along with him to the left.

"Good. Ya got it Fancy. Now let's go right." They take similar sliding steps to the right. When Puck is satisfied with the kid's progress, he steps back in front of Kurt and picks up the ball.

"Now, keep your eyes not on the ball, but my stomach."

"Your stomach? Um, why would I do that?"

"It helps keep you centered. Sometimes when you focus solely on the ball you may take a miscalculated swipe and get burnt. If you look at the stomach, you can get a better idea of which way I might take off and stick with me."

"Er, okay. Stomach. Got it."

"Cool. Now let's try it in real speed."

Kurt nods a bit nervously but his eyes are shining with determination. Puck dribbles to the left, walking in order to give Kurt a chance to practice his newly learned defensive position. The boy slides in sync with Puck. Puck grins and takes him the other way, all the while Kurt sliding along accordingly.

"Good. Now I'm gonna try to blow by you. Think you can stay with me?"

"Oh yeah," Kurt states with an air of cockiness that causes Puck to waggle his eyebrows.

Puck puts the ball between his legs, back through again and makes to cross him over, but the dude floats along with him, his long legs sliding with an ease that almost disturbs the burly teen. Kurt's eyes are glued on his stomach. Puck wonders if he's honestly registering the ball or simply enjoying the up close ogling of his abs.

"I see someone's gettin' a little cocky."

"Maybe."

"Good. I like takin' down the cocky shits the most."

"Your words not mine."

Damn it.

Puck can feel a blush creeping up his neck. He by no means meant anything remotely gay by that statement. Leave it to the faggy kid to sprinkle some gay in there somewhere.

Puck playfully makes movements as if he's going to take off causing Kurt to almost lose his footing. Eventually this leads to Kurt getting tired of Puck laughing at him, and he reverts back to his wild swiping, his pale fingers laying to rest on Puck's sweaty shoulder as the broad teen chuckles.

And then the unthinkable happens: Kurt knocks the ball away. It happens so fast, it takes Puck a minute to register that the smaller boy is now making his way toward the basket dribbling in an odd, effeminate manner.

Puck forgets himself and runs after him. He abandons the pretense of trying to block the kid and instead grabs him from behind causing the smaller teen to squeal, and spins him around. The ball goes flying from Kurt's grip but he seems to be laughing. Puck can't help but chuckle in a sense of relief that Kurt isn't pushing him away or freaking out.

The momentum eventually sends them both crashing to the floor; Puck making sure to take the brunt of the fall which ensures that he doesn't squash the other boy.

And they're laughing. Hard. Puck hasn't laughed like this since... Hell he couldn't remember. Kurt was hovering over him, staring down with pink cheeks and a wide smile as he lay in a graceful position near Puck's side. Puck's back was pressed on the hard wood floor as he kept his gaze locked on blue eyes shining with unrecognizable mirth.

Finally after the laughter dies out, Kurt comments, "I think I won."

"What? No way. You didn't even score."

"Oh I was well on my way to scoring when some Neanderthal decided to pick me up and turn me into a freakin' carousel."

"Language Lady," Puck reprimands in mock fashion. "And I s'pose ya gotta point. You were closer to scorin' so I guess it's fair to give you the win. This time anyway."

It was left unsaid. Puck knew it. But they had crossed some invisible barrier between themselves. Puck knew because he -The Puckasaurus himself- had initiated physical contact with the dude, who in turn allowed him to without having a melt down. Even though the moment had passed in seconds, it signified something really big.

This fragile kid who had been abused for so many years and obviously had some issues with such close contact had good humor about the whole thing... Even seemed to enjoy himself.

Puck leant up on his elbows, staring intently at blue, unwavering, and focused. Maybe it was because the blue color simply captivated him. Maybe he was trying to avoid looking down at the kid's soft looking lips. There were words dangling on his own lips, wanting to roll off his tongue and enter those delicate ears.

"What the hell is this Puckerman?"

Puck looks up at the small figure with dirty blonde hair trailing over her shoulder marching toward them, hands on hips, and glare in place. It was then that Puck registered that they had indeed been alone in the gym. Until now.

Puck clears his throat and sits up, pulling himself to his feet as if he had been burnt.

"Nothin'. Just playin' a little ball."

"Hm. Laying on the floor with no ball in sight. Remind me to check over the rules because I thought you actually needed to be on your feet and moving with a ball to play."

Kurt was now also on his feet, nibbling his pink lip and stepping back slightly, as if hoping to melt into the background.

"Quinn. What is it you want exactly?"

She pulls a face at his tone, and steps closer in order to whisper, "You know what I want from you." She continues when Puck doesn't respond. "I've been looking for you everywhere. I'm getting tired of this little ignoring game you're playing. When are you going to stop hiding out and come back to me?"

Puck subconsciously casts a look at the boy standing a few feet back. The blue eyes look... sad, disappointed. He's not sure cause he only glances for a second. His dark eyes land on jade green again which are burning with scorn.

"I already explained this to you. We're done."

Did Fancy just perk up? Quinn looks between the two boys. A sweeping realization crashing over her.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Really Puckerman? You're some sort of Nancy boy, ass rimmer now? That's why you don't want to fuck me anymore?" The little bitch made sure to yell that last comment.

"We've never even fucked. And I ain't a fag! You of all people should know that."

"Well you could've fooled me! I knew there was something keeping you occupied. I thought it was some other stupid girl. But I never would've guess you'd gone gay!"

"Shut the fuck up Quinn! I ain't no faggot!"

"YO! Am I interrupting?"

Sam Evans had re-entered the gym, his eyes resting apprehensively on the scene in front of him.

Kurt seemed to have shaken himself awake again, his arms knotted across his chest. His blue eyes looking steely.

"The fuck Blondie?" Puck was secretly delighted at the dude's return. Anything to keep the little banshee chick from screeching at him. Anything to keep him from saying anything else that would cause Kurt to close in on himself.

"Hey don't take it out on me Bro. I just came to get my hoodie. Left it from earlier."

Quinn is breathing heavily, but remains quiet. The blonde's sudden presence bringing some illogical sweep of sanity into the room. Like being doused with cold water. Sam grabs his sweater. Kurt shakes his head as if coming back to his senses, then shoots one last look at Puck.

Hurt.

Puck recognized that emotion anywhere.

"Hey Sam. Can I walk with you?"

"Um, sure. I'll walk you out."

"Thank you."

They disappear out the door while Puck's heart feels like its being squished in a vice grip.

"Just tell me Puck." Quinn's voice isn't filled with hostility with this admission. It sounds... Hurt. Damn. Hurt in his eyes. Hurt in her voice. Fuck are the odds?

Wait... He was Noah Puckerman. Hurting others was a talent of his. How could he have forgotten that?

"Do you want him? Do you actually want that boy, over me?"

Puck hesitates. Just the slightest pause. But then he quickly recovers.

"I don't want anything or anybody. I think all of you are complete shit. Now stop fuckin' stalkin' me and go blow some other guy!"

And just like that, he feels empty again.