I apparently cannot go the two days between chapters of this fic without posting other stuff. Glee has made me unusually prolific, and I don't know why. But, yes, if you don't want to wait the two days either, I do have other gleefic on my account. /shameless self-plug.
For my non-American readers, Thanksgiving is always celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November, and the day after is known as Black Friday, the official start of the Christmas shopping season. Stores have RIDICULOUS sales on ridiculously low-quantity items, open RIDICULOUSLY early (4 AM is not unheard of), and people STILL line up outside the shops, hoping to be first in. Black Friday is insane, and only die-hard shoppers dare to go out. A Wal-Mart store clerk was trampled to death not too many Black Fridays ago when he opened the doors for the morning. Yes. Black Friday is insane. You can understand why Mercedes assumes Kurt wants to go early-morning Black Friday shopping.
This is a ridiculously small point in this chapter, but I thought I'd mention it anyway.
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HOW THINGS WORK
Friendship
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Kurt was surprised to find another car in the driveway when he returned home, but he recognized it as Puck's. Rachel had left even before Sam did, talking excitedly about her Thanksgiving plans and how she really needed to get home to brine the turkey. Kurt just shook his head, rubbing his temples as he dropped Finn's keys off in his room and headed toward the basement.
His door was cracked open, something which made Kurt frown, but then he heard voices coming from downstairs. Finn and Puck. Finn never did figure out that you couldn't just swing the door shut and expect it to latch. You had to push it closed fully. But why were they in his room? Ah, wait, the video games were all in his room still. There was some sort of problem with the connection in Finn's room.
Kurt nudged the door open and stepped down onto the first stair, freezing when he could make out the words.
"-need to tell him."
"Like fuck we do. I'm not gonna be the one responsible for that drama."
"He'll find out anyway. Kurt's smart. He'll find out, and if he finds out we already knew, he'll probably rip off our balls or something."
Puck snorted disdainfully. "Little princess isn't getting his hands anywhere near my balls."
"You know what I mean. We should tell him. Now."
"Sectionals is in two weeks. He's got that big solo. If he pulls a Rachel and cracks up... it's not like we can just whip out a funk number to perk him back up and get him into fighting shape. We need his voice."
"We've got two weeks. We pulled off Sectionals in two minutes before. We can find someone else."
"Yeah, because taking away his solo after all of this won't make him leap off the nearest bridge."
"We should still tell him."
"Tell me what?" Kurt had been tempted to sit on the stairs and continue listening in hopes that the other boys would give more details as to what they were talking about, but it sounded like they had already moved past those details. Blunt was probably the best way with them now, so he crept down the stairs as quietly as he could, coming up behind them.
"Fuck, Princess!" Puck and Finn had both jumped at his voice, and their twin wide-eyed stares were definitely guilty. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"
Kurt snorted, taking off his jacket and hanging it up in his closet. "It's my room now, I can sneak however I want. Tell me what?"
Finn and Puck were staring at each other now, silently communicating. Puck shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing."
"Like hell it is." Kurt wasn't in any mood to play around. "Finn. Tell me what?" He turned to face his almost-brother, hands on his hips, giving him a look that he had learned would usually make Finn cave.
"Puck heard something disturbing," Finn blurted out. Puck punched him in the arm, and Finn looked sheepishly at him. "I told you he'd find out!"
"He found out because you told him," Puck growled back.
"He found out," Kurt corrected, "because you two were talking about it in his room." And he had never been more grateful that he insisted on restoring his room to a pre-sex state before taking Sam home. He hadn't wanted anyone else in his family to come in and learn what he had just done from the messy bed and strewn-about clothing. "Now, are you going to tell me what it is, or will I have to resort to brute force?"
"Brute force?" Puck looked skeptical. "You? Don't make me laugh."
Kurt cocked his head to the side, looking over at Puck critically. "Excuse me? I'm the best kicker the football team's seen in years, and thanks to Cheerios, I can get my leg over my head... though my target in this case would be a lot lower." He let his eyes flick pointedly at the crotch of Puck's saggy pants (how could Puck stand such ill-fitting clothes!) for a moment. "Do you really want to doubt my ability to inflict pain?"
"Yeah, but... but you're too nice to kick us in the nuts," Finn said. "Right?"
Kurt sighed, setting his hands on the back of the couch and shifting his weight forward. He probably wouldn't be kicking anyone anywhere right now, not with the way the slight twinge had turned into a steady, low throb. Sitting in the car the entire drive to Sam's and back had not been good on his ass. "How about you two just tell me what you're talking about not telling me while sitting in my room without me?"
"All right, then." Puck twisted around, resting his arm along the back of the couch, on top of Kurt's fingers. "Tell me, Princess, have you let White fuck you yet?"
Kurt colored but kept his chin up. "For the fiftieth time, Puckerman, my sex life is none of your business. Finn. What were you talking about?"
Finn twisted awkwardly before giving Kurt a miserable look. "Your sex life."
"Seriously?" Kurt's expression was flat as he stared at Finn, trying to tease the truth out of the taller boy, but Finn's face showed nothing but earnest honesty. "Seriously."
"Your boytoy's a grade-A douchebag," Puck said.
Kurt sighed, closing his eyes and letting his chin drop. "If you're just going to be insulting, you might as well leave. I don't have to listen to this in my own room."
"It's not insulting if it's true," Finn said.
Kurt shook his head. "You can call me a faggot and it would be both true and insulting," he said. "And I won't let you insult Sam, especially not when he isn't here to defend himself."
"You were just at his place, right?" Puck asked, drumming his fingers on the back of the couch. Kurt could feel the muscles in his arm flexing over his fingers. "Did he try to get you into his bed?"
"Why," Kurt demanded, "are you so interested in what I've been up to with Sam?"
"Because," Puck answered, "I overheard him telling some of the other guys that he wasn't gay."
Kurt opened his eyes, frowning at Puck. "You overheard wrong, then."
"Not with these ears, babe," Puck said, pointing to his ear. "I heard right."
"Sam is my boyfriend," Kurt said. "I am his boyfriend. Having a boyfriend when you yourself are male is pretty much a dead giveaway that you're gay."
"Yeah?" Puck asked. "Then why was White bragging about how much sex he's gotten from you. Damn, Hummel, you should've heard what he was saying about that mouth of yours. Can you really tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue? Santana's the only one I've seen able to do that before, and the things she can do..." He gave a low whistle.
Kurt went absolutely crimson at the question, pressing his lips together tightly in a futile attempt to make his mouth disappear. "I... was bored a couple summers ago. Wanted to see if it was possible..."
"Let me tell you, the stories White was sharing were making me think twice about your mouth." Puck straightened up a little, his expression not teasing, for once. "Seriously, though, Hummel. I was getting into it, just hearing things on the other side of the lockers. Azimio and Donahue were positively drooling."
Kurt went rigid behind the sofa, digging his fingers into the white fabric. "Sam doesn't like those idiots..."
"White's apparently got some sort of bet on with them," Puck said, shaking his head. "Remember those tally marks we found a while back?" Kurt gave a mute nod. "Apparently, they're how many times he's gotten off on you. As long as he's got more marks with you than Azimio and Donahue've got with their Cheerios, they're not allowed to toss you in the dumpster or slushie your pretty face or anything like that."
Kurt was shaking his head again. "You're wrong. You must have misheard. Sam's not like that."
"He's got his place to himself this weekend," Puck said, tapping a finger against Kurt's arm. "He was telling them all about his plans to lure you over and pop your cherry."
Too late for that... Kurt looked helplessly at Finn, who just shrugged. "I don't know, dude. I wasn't there. But it sounds about right. I mean, he hasn't ever gotten pushed around for being a... for being gay. I get it worse than him, and I've got an actual girlfriend."
"His tally's up to twenty-three," Puck said. "I counted, after he left. Good going, Hummel. If you got off all twenty-three times, at least. It's only been, what, since September?" Kurt shot him a dirty look, but Puck continued on unrepentantly. "It's one mark for each time he's gotten off on you."
Kurt set his jaw, scowling at Puck. "And how many times have you bragged about who you've been sleeping with? I've been in those locker rooms. I know it's a guy thing to talk. And if he's keeping count... so what?"
"I also heard," Puck said, leaning in closer to Kurt's arms on the back of the chair, "that for all those twenty-three times you've sucked him off, he's never once even come close to returning the favor. Is that true?"
"It's not..." Kurt couldn't finish the sentence, letting his voice trail off. Sam never had reciprocated. Sam would touch and tease and could bring Kurt off with his hands and voice, sometimes rocking up against him... but he'd never so much as kissed below Kurt's waist.
"It's not gay," Puck said, "if he doesn't put your dick inside him anywhere. And it's not gay if he fucks you on your hands and knees, so he can't see the lack of tits. And it's not gay if he just focuses on your mouth and imagines Brit's body below your neck."
"Dude." Finn reached out, shoving Puck's arm. "Enough."
Kurt was squeezing his eyes shut, shaking his head. "Shut up," he said, forcing himself to be calm. Someday, even you will work for me, Noah Puckerman. "Get out. Both of you, just get out of my room."
"Kurt..." Finn's fingers brushed against Kurt's arm, but he jerked it away.
"Get out!"
Finn scrambled to his feet, grabbing Puck's arm and dragging him along. "Sorry, Kurt, we just..."
"Out!" Kurt screamed, eyes flashing angrily as he pointed toward his door. Finn bolted, still firmly grasping Puck's arm.
Only after he heard the door click closed did Kurt let himself sink down to his knees, pressing his forehead against the back of the couch, his arms shaking in time with his breathing. It took him a good ten minutes before he had calmed down enough to fish his phone out, speed-dialed number 2, and put it to his ear, waiting for his girl's voice.
"Kuuurt." Mercedes sounded exasperated, and Kurt could hear the banging of pots and pans and laughter of many people in the background. "I told you I'd be busy all weekend! I will call you on Friday if I can make it out to some of those stupendous Black Friday sales."
"'Cedes," Kurt whispered. "Oh, 'Cedes..."
"Kurt?" Mercedes' voice was suddenly worried, and Kurt lifted a hand to bite his knuckle. If he closed his eyes, he could picture her beside him, reaching out a comforting hand. "What's wrong, Kurt?"
"I'm an idiot." Kurt sucked in a breath, hating how it sounded like a sob. "A blind, oblivious idiot."
"Oh Boo..." The background noises were quieter now—Mercedes must have moved out of the room. "Tell me?"
