Boston #7

"Puck?"

Puck stops brushing and pushes enough of the toothpaste to one side of his mouth before answering, "Yeah?"

Kurt stands behind him, tying a scarf or something around his neck and using the mirror to get it straight. "I got an invitation to a Halloween party."

Puck finishes brushing and spits. "Is there gonna be booze? 'Cause on the one hand, sweet! But on the other, I could totally lose my scholarship. The lady sat me down and told me right to my face, if I get caught with that shit before my 21st, I'm going back to Ohio, so..."

Yeah, Puck knows he sounds lame, but he figured being a little lame is better than having to move back in with his mother. He can live dangerously by climbing that big rock wall at the gym and practicing his judo.

"Probably," Kurt replies. "I mean, I don't drink, but..."

Puck knows Kurt brought this up for a reason. He's not super big into idle chatter for chatter's sake, which makes him an awesome roommate in Puck's opinion, but also doesn't explain this conversation. "But, what?"

"Well, dressing up would be so much fun. This year, I'm thinking historical. The seventeenth century had some really amazing men's shoe fashions." Puck rolls his eyes, but he doesn't stop Kurt. "But then again, I don't know. I was invited to the party by a boy."

Puck quirks his eyebrow and tilts his head a little. He doesn't get it. "Half the popul-"

"Like, as a date," Kurt admits and his cheeks are almost as pink as that scarf around his neck.

"Don't go," Puck says before he even knows he's going to do it. What the fuck, mouth?"Uh - I mean, unless you really like this kid. Does he know about -?"

"B-blaine?" Kurt stutters on the name, and that's how Puck knows Kurt's not over it, even if it is almost winter again. Ten whole months since it happened.

Puck nods.

"No." Kurt pouts, stepping back and collapsing face-first onto his bed. The situation must have really got to him if he's laying down after getting dressed. "It's not like I have to tell everyone I meet, Noah."

Kurt's started calling him, "Noah." It reminds Puck of his nana, so he doesn't say anything. If an old dead chick was gonna talk to him through anyone, it would probably be Kurt. Not that he thinks she is, because he's not some psycho, but it's a nice thought.

"Yeah, sure," he replies, wondering w hy he's feeling snippy about this. "I'm gonna be a lame ass and go to the dorm party. Do whatever you want, dude. Hey, maybe getting laid'll make you feel better."

"You don't have to be a jerk about it," Kurt huffs, flipping over, his cheeks going red again.

"I'm not," Puck says, sitting on his bed and tugging on one of his shoes. He's pretty sure he is being a jerk. "I'm telling it like it is."

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