A/N: So, there's only going to be fifteen chapters of this story, so this is one of the final five chapters. Unfortunately, real life has been beating the hell out of me lately, so I'm trying hard to not let that affect the writing/updating of this until the end. Let's give another huge shoutout to the incomparable Lady Gaga, whose music totally inspired this story and has kept it going through the spare times.

(Yes, I totally bought The Remix and The Cherrytree Sessions EP when they came out. Sigh.)

Once again, I really want to thank the people who've reviewed and favorited and alerted and all the other bells and whistles that encourage me to keep writing; and thanks to all those just readers too – I'm glad that you've enjoyed the ride so far, and I hope you enjoy hitting the ending as much as I'm enjoying taking you there.

Warnings for this chapter: Some fluff. Some crack. Some domesticity. Some fluff. Some crack. I had fun and I hope you will too!

With all of that out of the way let's crack on to:

Glee

Kurt's Gamble

Chapter 11: That's How You Know

That weekend was about as long as the high lasted – he'd stayed over at Kurt's for the weekend with Quinn, Mercedes, Rachel, Artie and Tina, though after their performance Burt had been pretty adamant that Puck was sleeping on the couch, far away from Kurt's bedroom. They'd all snickered at that (well, to be fair, Finn hadn't, but Kurt had tried to point out more than once that he wasn't being a bastard lately and Puck magnanimously stopped himself from shoving his tongue down Kurt's throat in Finn's presence afterwards). Carole was a gift from heaven, as far as Puck was concerned, because as soon as they'd all gone back to the Hudson-Hummel house Burt had hauled Kurt into a room and Carole had been the only one brave enough to go inside and calm Burt down.

While Burt was busy growling at Puck about keeping his "grubby paws off my Kurt" (all while Kurt rolled his eyes and started discussing costume highs and lows with Mercedes and Quinn), the other parents started arriving at the house. Meeting Rachel's two fathers seemed to calm Burt down quite a bit; after they'd all retired to the kitchen with beers and much giggling, the teenagers headed towards Kurt's basement (Puck and Finn tried not to glare at each other while they carried Artie down the stairs, which, Quinn said later, was progress).

By the time Puck had finished helping to set up, Quinn and Kurt were giggling hysterically after downing a bit of wine that Tina had produced from god knew where, and had dressed up in bits and pieces of the cowboy costumes from New Directions' invitationals during the disastrous reign of April Rhodes, drunken diva extraordinaire, and Mike and Finn had been hauled up to dance with them as they blasted Madonna through Kurt's karaoke machine.

Don't tell me to stop

Tell the rain not to drop

Tell the wind not to blow

'Cuz you said so, mmm

Tell the sun not to shine

Not to get up this time

Let it fall by the way

But don't leave me where I lay down

.

Tell me love isn't true

It's just something that we do

Tell me everything or not but

Please don't tell me to stop

Rachel, of course, commandeered the machine after that and belted out a startlingly throaty rendition of "Music," and then Santana broke out the hard drinks and started in on the glee club's newest favorite drinking game, "Take the Shot or Sing the Song."

It was the most fun that Puck had had in months. As the alcohol poured, the club's various animosities towards each other seemed to melt away, as they all took their turn singing ridiculously bad songs. Once Finn butchered his way through the first verse of "It's Raining Men" (blushing furiously and cheered on by a cackling Kurt, Quinn and Mercedes), a severely red-faced Artie engaged everyone in a game of charades.

It was when the somewhat tipsy adults came downstairs to find Quinn attacking Kurt with his collectible pair of Japanese sai swords ("Elektra!" Mike guessed; Rachel smacked him smartly and sang out "Chicago!" to which Quinn and Kurt gave a bow) that the party was called off. The teenagers were allowed to have a sleepover in Kurt's massive basement, provided that Quinn (who hadn't drank much (she'd somehow developed an aversion to wine coolers…)) promise Burt that no hanky-panky would go on. Burt glared hard at Puck, who tried to look innocent (he was failing miserably, especially considering that he'd ended up shirtless hours ago). "Mohawk can sleep on the other side of the room," he growled.

"He doesn't even have a Mohawk anymore!" Kurt protested.

"And you!" Burt said relentlessly.

Carole quickly commandeered the adults to provide the inebriated teenagers with sleeping bags and quilts and pillows. It was quickly decided that Artie would get the foldout couch because he had to sleep a certain way to help with his spine. Tina tenderly helped him tuck into the bed that he was sharing with Mike and Matt. Puck's mother was staring at them all with disapproval. Finn tried to put a hand over Kurt's mouth, but Kurt had staggered right over and said "I'm sorry you disapprove of me," in that bitchy way that he had of talking down to people.

"It's certainly not that, dear," Mrs. Puckerman said irritably. "We belong to a reform Temple. I just don't understand how my son can stand there so peacefully while his freakishly tall friend makes away with the only Jewish girl he's ever dated!" Her outrage made her swell to an impressive degree. Kurt threw Puck a smirk and leaned in.

"You know, Rachel's not even Jewish," Kurt said craftily, his innocent voice fooling no one but Mrs. Puckerman. Even Rachel's dads had paused to watch at this point.

"She's not?" Mrs. Puckerman asked, her slight inebriation lending to her confusion.

"No – she was just raised that way. But, as I'm sure you can tell by her absolute lack of fashion sense, she's going through a bit of a crisis right now. As a matter of fact, I heard her not the other day talking about converting to…well…" Kurt trailed off, his innocent baby blues glancing down shamefully.

"What?" Mrs. Puckerman whispered, leaning in.

"Catholicism," Kurt said grimly.

"Oh…dear," the woman murmured, leaning back. She shot Rachel a dirty look while the poor girl just stood there, her mouth working like a fish but with no sound coming out. "Tell me, Kurt, how are your grades? Do you do any drugs? Are you secretly part female enough to produce a non-Jewish baby?"

"A's, no and hell no," Kurt rang off happily.

"Well. We may just have to keep you around," she conceded after a moment. "We all must have dinner next week – perhaps you could join us for our Jewish heritage movie night!" She clapped her hands and headed up the stairs after the chortling Berrys.

"Kurt!" Quinn said, hands on her hips.

"I think she likes me," Kurt stage-whispered to Puck, who was standing as stunned as if he'd just been hit by a pan.

"Dude. You need to not drink," Finn pointed out.

"I only threw a glass at you that one time!" Kurt cried, aggrieved.

"He threw a glass at you?" Santana asked, looking up from where she and Brittany were making a nest of pillows and Kurt's stuffed animals on the floor.

"All I was doing was my Spanish homework—" Finn launched into his story, but Kurt glared at him and overrode him.

"If you call that butcher job homework! He said the people of Bologna danced in their pants from Friday – and he said it wrong!"

"So you threw a glass at his head?" Tina asked.

"And they say I'm a mean drunk," Mercedes muttered.

"Is that what happened to my favorite Falcons mug?" Burt hollered from the foot of the stairs, dropping the stack of pillows he'd been carrying to glare at his son.

"Did someone say 'sleep'?" Kurt yawned, flashing his innocent baby eyes at his father. "'M sooo sleeeeepy," he added for extra emphasis.

"And you're a terrible liar," Carole informed him with twitching lips. "But you all should get to sleep – especially if you expect to get up early enough for me to make you all a hangover remedy before my shift tomorrow."

It was enough to get everyone scrambling into their beds. Quinn gave Burt an angelic look as she climbed into bed with Kurt, which melted Burt enough to give Puck one last glare before following Carole upstairs. Quinn swapped sides with Kurt so that Puck could lie on the floor next to the bed, where Kurt's hand lay innocently waiting for Puck to hold. Maybe it was the glow of a good buzz, but Puck felt like he was falling asleep in a warm glow; despite the adults' best intentions the glee club had partnered up as best it could. Tina had stolen Puck's idea and lay by Artie's side; Matt was already snoring as Mike turned to keep Quinn in his sights, which had the golden girl smiling slightly as her eyes drifted closed; Rachel and Finn were curled into a strange ball by the stairs; and Brittany and Santana had fallen asleep with their hands curled together and their lips barely touching.

While Kurt's fingers lightly toyed with Puck's own as the smaller boy succumbed to sleep, Puck had never felt better about anything.

888

Saturday, of course, dawned bright and ugly as Burt Hummel took an intensely evil pleasure in stomping down the stairs loud enough to wake everyone up and have them all groaning and clutching their heads as he threw open all the blinds. When the light hit Puck's eyes he almost felt like weeping as a jackhammer started up in the back of his head. "Urgh," he moaned, clutching his head as Burt glared at him until he dropped Kurt's hand.

"So, how does everyone feel?" Carole asked, coming downstairs with equal sympathy (which is to say, none). "Has anyone puked yet?"

"Stop, please," Tina whimpered, clutching her stomach.

"Yeah, stop being a lightweight, Carole," Burt said cheerily. "Having the liquor shits are so…much…worse…"

"Oh my god," Finn moaned, and staggered toward Kurt's bathroom.

"You're cleaning that, you awkwardly tall freak!" Kurt yelled, sitting up. "And, ow," he whimpered. Puck could commiserate.

888

Shockingly enough, Puck's mom actually believed Kurt's drunken spiel in the basement, and now that she thought that Rachel was a psychotic defector she welcomed Kurt into Puck's life with open arms. Naturally, that meant her benevolent smile of approval when Kurt came over Saturday night for traditional kosher Jewish supper before sobbing into Puck's shoulder for the finale of The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. Puck and Sarah both shot each other long-suffering sighs as they simultaneously handed Kurt and their mother tissues and settled back in their seats.

When Puck drove Kurt home that night, he teased him endlessly. "Shut up! That movie's sad, okay?"

"Okay. And I'm sure that when we get around to watching that massive collector's edition of Titanic you'll be ruining my shirt that night too," Puck chortled.

"Only a cretin like you wouldn't tear up at the end of Titanic. Why are we dating again?"

"Because you have a fetish for my nipple ring?" Puck asked innocently, before trying not to swerve into oncoming traffic when Kurt slugged him in the arm. Puck had learned early on that 'skinny' on Kurt actually translated into lean, hard muscle toned by a relentless Sue Sylvester.

"Don't make me wreck!" he whined. "The last thing I need is your dad coming after me for getting you into a car accident."

"What? You mean Puckzilla the Great can't outrun a mechanic's shotgun blast? How disappointing," Kurt sighed.

"You're hilarious," Puck deadpanned.

"And you're coming over tomorrow night. My dad wants to officially 'meet' my first ever boyfriend," Kurt said evilly when they'd pulled into his driveway. Puck's mouth dropped open in horror as Kurt patted his cheek condescendingly. "Don't wet yourself, sweetie." He let himself out and pranced up the stairs, his tight jeans doing obscenely right things to his backside, and Puck slammed his head into the steering wheel.

888

Quinn had rolled her eyes and dragged him to the attic where she and her mother had stuffed the last of her father's things to loan him a Polo shirt and a pair of dress slacks, along with some advice. "Burt isn't actually as scary as he comes off as – he's just insanely overprotective. So, be yourself in conversation: talk about sports, colleges, things like that. Avoid the following: any indication that Kurt is not virginal in any way, shape or form, any indication that you are not virginal in any way, shape or form, refer to yourself in the third person, refer to yourself as Puckzilla, talk about your guns, or talk about your penis."

"But that's like half of a conversation!" Puck protested desperately.

"Why do I bother?" she asked, rolling her eyes skyward, before pecking him on the cheek for luck and booting him unceremoniously from her house.

"Bitch," he muttered mutinously.

"I heard that!" she trilled sweetly from the other side of the door. Puck rolled his eyes heavenward and turned around, stopping short at the sight of Santana, who was warily stepping out of her beat up old car. She glared at Puck as he stepped down off the porch.

"You look like a fag," she said viciously.

"Look who's talking, dyke," Puck shot back, and Santana jerked back. "You know, I'm sick of just sitting here and letting you scream at me just because you can't deal with the fact that you just want to be with Brittany. And if you can't figure your own shit out, don't put it in my face! And maybe you could tell Brittany that too, because I'm pretty sure she's getting tired of you treating her like shit."

"Fuck off, Puck! You don't get it!" Santana snarled, jerking away from him.

"No, I don't. I never did get it. You are one of the craziest, most psychotic bitches I know!" Puck told her. "But you know what? I like Kurt, and he likes me, and he's not gonna dump me because of my credit scores or because he thinks I'm a Lima loser. And if you can't just leave me the hell alone about it, then that's your problem, bitch, not mine."

"You know, Britt's the dumbest girl I know and she's the only one who doesn't treat me like I'm trailer trash in a shiny wrapper," Santana said, leaning against the hood of her car. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked so uncharacteristically weak that Puck got a little wigged out.

"So…why don't you just tell her that? That's all she wants to know," he said reasonably.

"Jesus," Santana muttered, before she threw her arms around his neck. "If you ever tell anyone about this I'll cut your balls off then shove a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire so far up your ass it'll come out your throat." With that parting shot, she turned around and hopped back in her car, driving away with a squeal of tires.

"Crazy bitch," Puck muttered, rubbing his neck mutinously. He was so caught up in thinking about Santana and what the hell she was doing now and whether or not she was crazy enough to follow through on that threat (he'd come up with the facts that he was glad they weren't dating anymore; that she was probably growing a pair and going to Brittany's house; and that she was more than crazy enough to follow through) when he realized that he had automatically driven to the Hummels' house and that he now had to go through that front door and face down Burt Hummel.

Deciding that even his inner badass would never recover if Santana could follow through tonight and he couldn't, Puck resolutely put on his game face and went up to knock on the door. When he heard a shriek that sounded like Kurt, he instinctively shoved the door open and burst past a surprised Carole, until he heard a loud "OW!" followed by Finn's kicked-puppy whine voice drifting into the hall. "Kuuuurt, that hurt!"

"What are you, twelve? I said stay out of the dessert!" Kurt snapped back peevishly, and Puck started smiling until he realized that he was standing in the entrance hall with a stupid sappy grin on his face and that both Carole and Burt were watching him from the living room with identical smirks on their faces. So, soo screwed, Puck thought despairingly as Finn stumbled from the kitchen, nursing his head where it appeared Kurt had whacked him with a wooden spoon.

"Puck? You…look…uh…" Finn stuttered.

"Head wound hurt, son?" Burt asked happily. Finn frowned. "You should have stayed out of the dessert, believe me."

"Don't sound so happy, father dearest," Kurt said darkly, emerging from the kitchen and lightly wiping sweat away with a handkerchief, looking flawlessly put together as always. "Because that chocolate you pilfered earlier was actually a well-disguised nutritional diet bar." As Burt made a choking noise and Carole and Finn laughed at him meanly, Kurt stopped and smiled in a slightly mocking manner. "A pink polo shirt, Noah? Are you gay?"

Puck was the first to recover from the shocked silence that hit the living room by laughing. "You know, your mamma knows about the gaaay!" he returned in a ridiculously fake Asian accent. "Your mamma cool!"

"Yeah, and if you don't pick up this call, that mean's you gay – because only gays screen their calls," Kurt finished. The others stared at them as they cracked up. "Margaret Cho," Kurt explained as he straightened.

"I think Mohawk is a bad influence on you," Burt said ominously.

"You think everything is a bad influence on me," Kurt said with a long-suffering sigh.

"He doesn't think I'm a bad influence on you," Finn said happily.

"You couldn't be a bad influence on anybody," Kurt said disparagingly. "You're about as threatening as melted cheese."

"I can be threatening!" Finn protested. When even Carole was laughing at him, he started to pout.

"Dude, no offense, but your girlfriend is scarier than you are," Puck told him.

"Damn straight," Burt said with a shudder. "I once asked the girl who Sarah Brightman was and I didn't escape the room for two hours."

"You kind of deserved that one," Kurt said slowly. "Considering the fact that you raised me."

"It's scary to think that you and Rachel aren't enemies any more," Puck said doubtfully. "You were bad enough when you were going after each other. Think of what it'll be like now that you halfway like each other for the rest of us."

"You'll be too plebian to understand the complexities of a true frenemies relationship," Kurt said loftily.

"Have you met me and Quinn?" Puck asked. "And besides, you could've tried a better insult while we weren't reading Animal Farm in class. I would've gone with Philistine." Kurt stared at him in shock, his mouth working, when Burt surprised everyone and let out a booming laugh.

"Anyone who can get this brat tongue-tied is welcome at my dinner table," Burt declared. "And since Kurt's done his nightly tradition of beating one of us with kitchen supplies before dinner, I think it's time we eat."

"It wouldn't be a tradition if certain people in this house could just wait until I set the table," Kurt began, but the other three were already filing into the dining room and Puck watched with amusement as Kurt rolled his eyes skyward and went to help Carole bring out the dinner food.

Considering that this really was the first meet the parents dinner that Puck had ever actually gone to, he shocked himself by enjoying himself. Burt wasn't nearly as bad around food as he was around cars, and pretty soon the talk turned to football and who would be replacing Tanaka as football coach.

"What happened to that sweat factory?" Kurt asked while his foot innocently traced up Puck's calf. Puck smirked and returned the favor quietly.

"He heard Ms. Pillsbury call Schue a slut and start dating some random dentist and he completely lost it. He started talking to his whistles around school and then he assaulted a student when they told him he smelled like feet, and last I heard he was having a nice stay at the nuthouse," Finn told them all.

"Where do they find the teachers at your school?" Carole asked wonderingly. "I don't remember McKinley being this dysfunctional when I was a teenager."

"No, when we were kids we just had the janitor who ate road kill," Burt reminded her.

"Oh, ew, old Auggie. I'd forgotten about him," Carole shuddered.

"He ate road kill?" Puck asked, staring up from his pasta.

"I once overheard him trying to convince the old nurse that opossum with mayo was the reason for his good health," Burt told them all.

"That's really gross," Finn said after a stunned silence.

"What is wrong with the people in this town?" Kurt wondered aloud, stroking the tops of Puck's feet with his own.

"You implying you ain't one of us, Princess?" Puck asked innocently as he trapped Kurt's foot with his.

"Ain't ain't a word, so don't say ain't," Finn chorused automatically. Carole sighed and sipped her wine.

After dessert, which was a chocolate cake that Kurt whined was full of calories before inhaling two slices of it, they all gravitated toward the door to see Puck out. Strangely enough, Burt was smiling when he said, "You aren't half bad, Puckerman. But let me tell you something – the goo goo eyes across the table I can deal with. Can it with the footsie under the table, though." Kurt's eyes widened as he and Puck froze. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, kid," Burt said, clapping him on the shoulder. "And no more sleepovers for the two of you."

Puck laughed as the door shut on Kurt's flaming red face.

888

Monday they all had off, as it was a teacher workday, so when Kurt asked him to meet him and some of the others at Breadstix, the local date restaurant, Puck threw on some clean clothes and pulled into the parking lot at five. Quinn and Kurt were standing next to Mercedes' car as Rachel and Finn pulled into the parking lot. Finn went to help Mercedes snag tables while Rachel headed over to the three of them.

"How's it going, you naughty Catholic you?" Puck asked good-naturedly.

"Saying the rosary every night," Rachel shot back surprisingly swiftly.

"You've been spending way too much time with Kurt," Puck noted with a soft smile.

"I could say the same about you, from what Finn says," Rachel said, but she didn't sound displeased by it all anymore.

"You two going out more?" Puck asked, testing the waters.

"All weekend," Rachel said happily. They were both smiling as they came up to Kurt, who looked like he was fighting back a smile as Quinn paced worriedly in front of him. Kurt's hand automatically sought out Puck's, and Puck fought down a sappy grin as he squeezed Kurt's fingers. God, he was getting as bad as Finn and Rachel with the romantic crap. How the hell had this happened?

"Stop laughing," Quinn snapped peevishly as she paced. "I'm serious, I think I'm being stalked!" She brandished a small bag. "Yellow flowers, and notes about how beautiful I am – if this is your idea of a joke, it isn't funny!" she said, rounding on Puck suddenly.

"I have no idea what's going on," Puck said truthfully.

"Damn it!" Quinn cried, wringing her hands. Kurt rolled his eyes and he and Puck grabbed hold of her arms and all but dragged her into the restaurant against her violent protests. "Stop! Don't you see; this is just what the stalker asked me to do! I don't want to die in a restaurant that has a stuffed moose head on the wall! A stuffed moose head! Where the hell do you get one of those? I'm not dressed to die; I wanted to die in a white dress because it looks good on me! What if my stalker is ugly? Oh my god!" she moaned as Rachel opened the door for them.

By the time they reached the tables that Mercedes, Finn, Artie, Matt and Tina had commandeered for them, Quinn was glaring mutinously at them all and twisting her hands nervously. The others just laughed at her and drank their water while they waited for their menus to arrive. When none seemed forthcoming, Kurt stood up and said, "I'll just go see what's taking that waitress so long."

"He has something to do with this, I know he does," Quinn said, glancing around in a paranoid sort of way at all of them. Puck discreetly moved her knife away from her place setting, and she glared at him before she brandished her fork threateningly. "I hate all of you," she moaned. "I'm going to die and none of you will listen to me!"

That was when the lights dimmed and then a tiny light appeared on Kurt, who had ditched his long sleeves for a light blue T-shirt and a James Dean sort of look. Puck realized with a start that for once there wasn't anyone else in the restaurant but them. The restaurant staff were all gathered around, watching Kurt, who lifted a microphone. "Quinn Fabray, someone here has a very special message for you," he said happily. Quinn gasped and glared at him as he nodded behind her, before she grew very still as a few piano tinkles trilled out and someone behind Kurt started singing.

How does she know you love her?
How does she know she's yours?

Suddenly, Matt jumped up from the table and produced a microphone from God knew where as he joined in:

How does she know that you love her?

The voice continued:

How do you show her you love her?

The unseen singer, whose pleasant voice grew more powerful, joined in with Matt as he sang:

How does she know that you really, really, truly love her?
How does she know that you love her?
How do you show her you love her?
How does she know that you really, really, truly love her?

That was when, to everyone's shock, Mike Chang danced into the spotlight, dressed in a Cheerio's uniform from who knew where, dancing his heart out as he stared straight at Quinn, a blush shading his cheeks as he took the solo, singing as loudly as he could.

It's not enough to take the one you love for granted
You must remind her, or she'll be inclined to say...
"How do I know he loves me?"

"How do I know he's mine?"

Well does he leave a little note to tell you that you are on his mind?
Send you yellow flowers when the sky is grey?
He'll find a new way to show you, a little bit everyday
That's how you know, that's how you know
He's your love...

Quinn gasped and dug in the little bag that she had brought with her, pulling out yellow flowers and the love notes that she'd been bitching about earlier. A blush stained her pretty cheeks as she stared at Mike, her lips trembling as her eyes brightened. Mike spun into a complicated, Michael Jackson-esque breakdown as Matt took over again.

You've got to show her you need her
Don't treat her like a mind reader
Each day do something to need her
To believe you love her

Mike danced closer to the table as he started singing:

Everybody wants to live happily ever after
Everybody wants to know their true love is true...
How do you know he loves you?

How do you know he's yours?

Puck was a little surprised at how good Mike was; he'd obviously spent a while practicing the song…then he saw how Kurt was mouthing along to the lyrics, and he suddenly knew who Mike's teacher was. Just how the hell Kurt had found the time alongside everything else was a mystery to Puck, but he was grinning as Kurt gestured to Mike, who suddenly swept Quinn up from the chair and pulled the giggling girl into a ballroom waltz.

Well does he take you out dancing just so he can hold you close?
Dedicate a song with words meant just for you?

He'll find his own way to tell you
With the little things he'll do
That's how you know
That's how you know!

He's your love

Because he'll wear your favorite color
Just so he can match your eyes
Rent a private picnic
By the fire's glow

His heart will be yours forever
Something everyday will show
That's how you know

That's how you know...
That's how you know...
He's your love!

As Mike finished off triumphantly, he swirled Quinn into a dip and brought her up, and she certainly didn't seem to protest as his lips met hers in a sweet kiss. Puck surprised himself by applauding with everyone else, and he didn't miss how Kurt's eyes met his.

888

When school loomed in front of them, bright and ugly Tuesday morning, Puck pulled up to a parking lot filled with anticipation. He hopped out of his truck cheerfully and went to meet Kurt, who was standing next to the other glee clubbers. Mercedes looked like she was about to open her mouth, until Puck grabbed Kurt's hand and locked their fingers together tightly. Kurt glowed, and Puck grinned as Mercedes rolled her eyes and turned to talk to Tina, since Quinn and Mike were still gazing at each other with stars in their eyes on the other side of her.

Going into school, Jacob Ben-Israel darted off in the other direction, and Puck sighed as Kurt took one look at his face and snapped, "No, Noah. Leave the poor creature alone."

As they passed Karofsky, who looked like he was going to open his mouth, the jock thought better of it as Puck and Kurt glared at him viciously and the rest of the glee club raised challenging eyebrows. Glaring mutinously, the jock stomped off in the other direction.

The rest of the day passed quickly but strangely. Puck wasn't used to whispers following him in the halls anymore; he'd stopped being a topic of gossip when he'd joined glee and became an uninteresting geek in the eyes of the school. Still, when they all met up again for glee that afternoon, he didn't regret it at all as he sat down next to Kurt and they all waited for Mr. Schuester to start the meeting.

"Hey, everybody! I heard that you all had a good weekend, huh?" He glanced at Quinn and Mike, and everyone had a good chuckle, until he dug in his bag. "Well, I have to tell you, the video team did a great job – let's all hear a round of big applause for Artie's connections to the A/V club!" Artie took a mock bow. "Here are your DVD's of the performance!" He handed them out, and Puck was impressed at the cover art – a big mashup of the different performances, outlined by huge lettering that spelled out 'A New Directions Event'. "The quality is great, and I know that your parents were excited for it.

"But, I also need to remind you all that we haven't yet voted on the winner of the competition yet! I wrote all your names on these index cards, so," he continued, passing them out, "just write your vote for winner on the back of the card and then come up and put it on the piano, and I'll tally the votes. Remember – no voting for yourselves!"

Puck smirked as he wrote Brittany and Santana's names on his card, glancing over and starting in shock as he watched Kurt's elegant script spell out Rachel and Matt. "What? They were good," Kurt said, looking away. Puck nudged Kurt's shoulder with his and Kurt smiled and jostled back, getting up to put their cards on the growing pile. Once Finn had finally put his in, Mr. Schuester took out a piece of blank notebook paper and started writing down votes and numbers, until he looked up.

"Alright, guys! Now, remember, the top three teams will have their videos shown to the entire school, and the two winners will be able to dictate what glee does for the next four meetings. So, the votes have been tallied, and here's where we are: in third place, we have Brittany and Santana!" He paused as everyone applauded, and Brittany jumped up and down.

"I think we won something!" she cried exultantly. Santana just rolled her eyes and tugged on her hand, but Puck didn't miss the fact that their fingers were still tightly intertwined.

"In second place, missing first place by literally one vote, we have…Matt and Rachel!" Schue continued, and Rachel surprised everyone by hugging Matt and congratulating him on their success. Puck watched with bated breath, hoping against hope as Mr. Schuester grinned and called out, "And, the winner is Kurt and Puck!"

"Yes!" Puck hollered, leaping out of his seat with a whoop. Mercedes and Quinn and the others were clapping and cheering on his totally stupid victory dance, but Kurt was quiet, just sitting still with an odd little smile on his face. Puck grabbed his hand and hauled him up to dance with him, and Kurt just laughed and let Puck twirl him once and dip him in a bad attempt at the moves Mike was pulling yesterday. Kurt smiled softly and squeezed his hands as they all took their seats again.

"Yes, but I really just want to thank all of you – you guys really blew me away with your responses to this challenge. I think that we've all shown that there's so much that we can learn from each other and so much that all of you bring to this group as a whole. Friday night blew everyone in the audience completely away, including me. You guys really deserve—"

"Ice cream on Mr. Schue!" Puck declared.

"Hell yeah!" Santana echoed from the back, and Brittany clapped her hands. Before Mr. Schuester could say much else, the entire room was chanting "Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!"

Puck thought that Schue looked more exasperatedly happy than irritated when he ended up leading the caravan of battered cars to the diner in the middle of town and buying everyone the buck-fifty vanilla dream cones they served. As they all lounged around in the bright sunlight on the park benches outside, Puck drew Kurt off to the side. "You okay?" he asked softly. Kurt was silent for a long moment, and Puck tried to keep patient as Kurt did obscene things to his ice cream cone with his mouth.

"Yeah. I guess I'm just…kind of in shock. I'm not used to winning anything. When…you're…like me, in this town…You have to fight for everything. And it's so strange; I was in such a different place a month ago, and now, where I am with you and with glee, it's like in some ways this has been the best month of my life. And I don't really know what to do with that. Good things don't happen to me all that much, so when they do I get scared and I freeze up." Kurt rested his head on Puck's shoulder, and Puck didn't say anything. He didn't know what he could say. But it was almost like that feeling of responsibility that had settled over his shoulders when Quinn had gotten pregnant. Kurt trusted him now, maybe not enough to tell him what had led up to this whole thing yet, but…

"Hey, Princess," Puck said, nudging Kurt up. Kurt glared at him for daring to mess up his pillow, and Puck just laughed at him. "Betcha when we take over that you won't let me do a metal song."

"I'll have you know that I listen to a very eclectic range of music," Kurt told him.

"Oh, so you'd rock out with me?" Puck challenged.

"I'd rock out better than you," Kurt shot back.

"It's on like Donkey Kong for Friday?" Puck offered.

"After repressing the fact that you just said that, yes, I'll show you how it's done come Friday," Kurt told him. Puck just grinned.

888

As the spring heat gave way to full blown summer sunshine, a definite end of the year haze was settling over WMHS. It was a lazy sort of feeling, where certain students (such as Puck, for instance) spent most of the day fantasizing about just walking out to the football field, taking his shirt off and laying down in the grass until the sun lulled him to sleep. The week passed by quickly, and Puck felt like everything was finally settling down to a good sort of routine. He'd give Quinn a ride to school, during which time she'd heartily abuse him, before they split up to meet Kurt and Mike. Mercedes was busy texting some guy she'd met when her church had had a barbecue, so sometimes she'd join them and sometimes not.

Kurt was very precise during exam studying time, as he explained to Puck. "Julliard doesn't just look at singing and dancing and acting ability – they want to know that I've got what it takes academically and that I demonstrate hard work before they'll even agree to let me audition to get in." Therefore, when Puck dragged Kurt's tempting lips into a kiss in the janitor's closet in the foreign languages hallway, they had exactly four minutes to make out before Kurt literally and figuratively separated them and went back to his studying. Puck would admire the fact that Kurt was the first and only person he'd dated who set firm boundaries in their relationship and forced Puck to follow them as well, except for the raging case of blue balls it left him.

Puck had gotten so lazy, in fact, that he'd honestly almost forgotten about his challenge until he walked into glee Friday afternoon, tasting the freedom of the weekend, to see Artie hooking his laptop up to the speakers and Kurt turning around to face him in his leather pants, a red biker shirt and aviator sunglasses. Puck's mouth went dry and he gulped audibly. Kurt smirked evilly and went back to fiddling with things with Artie as the rest of the glee club filed in curiously. Finally, after they were all seated, Kurt turned to greet them all.

"Well, you're all probably wondering what's going on – Puck here challenged me to see whether or not I could do a metal song. I got my dad's help with some sound effects, and this is what I came up with, so I hope you like it." With that, Kurt nodded at Artie, who grinned and pressed a button on his laptop. The sound of expensive revving engines filled the room as a very familiar grinding crunch of guitars hit the air and Kurt's voice dropped to an impressive growl as he huskily ground out:

Gimme fuel,
Gimme fire,
Gimme that which I desire,
Ooh!

The speakers slammed with the sound as Kurt stepped up to an old-fashioned silver microphone, absolutely owning the choir room as they all watched and listened, fascinated as his voice dropped down to the lowest range and then soared back up to the heights of his countertenor training.

Turn on; I see red
Adrenaline crash and crash my head
Nitro junkie, paint me dead
And I see red

A hundred plus through black and white
War horse, warhead
Fuck 'em, man, white knuckle tight
Through black and white

As he hit the bridge, Kurt leaned forward seductively, his voice as soothing and crooning as a Broadway aria, and it was so…sexy, the dichotomy of Kurt, Puck thought absently – the hard muscle and the soft skin, the edge of his wit to keep people at bay and the vulnerable boy underneath, the cars and the facials…

Oh, ooh, on I burn
Fuel is pumping engines
Burning hard, loose and clean
And on I burn,
Churning my direction,
Quench my thirst with gasoline

So gimme fuel
Gimme fire
Gimme that which I desire

Oh!

As the metal kicked back in, Kurt kicked out, slamming his head with the beat and looking for all the world like a metalhead, shattering any ideas Puck might have had about what Kurt was going to do with this.

Turn on beyond the bone
Swallow future, spit out home
Burn your face upon the chrome
Yeah!

Take the corner, join the crash
Headlights, headlines
Another junkie lives too fast
Yeah lives way too fast, fast, fast, oh

Kurt smirked and beckoned to Puck imperiously, and Puck grinned as he hopped up, harmonizing with Kurt effortlessly into the microphone as the others cheered them on.

Oh, ooh, on I burn
Fuel is pumping engines
Burning hard, loose and clean
And on I burn,
Churning my direction,
Quench my thirst with gasoline

So gimme fuel
Gimme fire
Gimme that which I desire

Oh!

Kurt shimmied next to him, drawing Puck into a teasing dance as the guitar solo kicked in hard, and Artie let loose enthusiastically with some of the sounds Burt had recorded for his son.

Gimme fuel

(On I burn, on and on)
Gimme fire

(On I burn, on and on)
My desire

Oh, on I burn
Fuel is pumping engines
Burning hard, loose and clean

And on I burn
Churning my direction
Quench my thirst with gasoline

Gimme fuel
Gimme fire
Gimme that which I desire
Ooh

On I burn!

As the sounds died away, the group applauded enthusiastically. Kurt laughed gracefully and bumped knuckles with Puck. "Told you so," he said smugly.

Puck just laughed and pulled him into a kiss as the others groaned (or cheered them on in a creepily enthusiastic manner like Quinn). When they pulled apart, Puck glanced back into the corner of the room and almost jumped in surprise when he saw, for the briefest moment, that dark mask twisting Finn's features, before the other boy turned away from them to talk to Rachel. Puck frowned. The last thing anyone needed – especially Kurt – right now was for Finn to go back to being a bastard. Frowning, Puck waited until they were let out to drop back behind and grab the bag he'd 'forgotten', hiding around a door corner as Rachel squeezed Finn's hand.

"I know that I'm trying – I mean, we're all trying – to just get past it all. And I'm real happy that Kurt's talking to me again. It's just…why does Puck have to take everything from me? Kurt was my friend first, and I've been trying to tell him that he could do something like today for months, but he thinks it's a bad idea until Puck comes along?" Finn squeezed his eyes shut. "There are days when I really wish I'd never met him, you know?"

Rachel sighed and stared off into the distance, not even wondering what to say, Puck guessed. Finn didn't even notice how irritated Rachel was with him. Probably not a good thing. Puck found that he didn't care. All he wanted to do was punch some sense into Finn's big, stupid head. And then wonder what the hell Kurt ever saw in him. Puck jerked back from the door and went to go meet Kurt in the parking lot.

"What is it?" Kurt asked uncertainly when he saw Puck's face.

"Nothing," Puck said flatly. As they headed out to the park, he tried as hard as he could to believe his own words.

Songs used in this chapter:

Both "Don't Tell Me" and "Music" from Madonna's wonderful album Music.

"It's Raining Men" by I don't even know or care was mentioned, but that's all that ever needs doing in the case of that song.

"That's How You Know," originally sung by Amy Adams in the wonderful Disney movie Enchanted (it's sooo cute!)

And, finally, "Fuel" by Metallica. Frankly, after seeing Avril Lavigne handle a fairly competent cover of the song during her first tour, I have complete faith that Glee could do a kickass rendition of this song.

A/N: Oh, my god, this chapter would not be written! I don't know what the hell happened, but it just was not coming out! Now that it's finally done, I'm not sure that I'm completely satisfied with it, but I'm not making you guys wait any longer, so it's going up. I didn't mean to use as much music as I did, but oh well. I love you guys; hope you enjoyed it and I'm sorry about the wait once more. Till next time!