A/N: I thought about doing a splice job on this chap but it just felt like it needed to be a stand alone. Enjoy my dears!
Groggy would be an understatement. His eyes crack open, a blurred mass of gray tones coming into sight. His fingers brush against the floor, tickled by the softness of the fabric... Was that padding?
He groans loudly. Of course, the quiet room: a padded nightmare of absolute solitude.
He thinks it must be night time. Yes, definitely. His eyes cast over the hint of moon light venting in through the tiny window overhead.
Puck lifts his hand, watching it be swallowed into the light trickling in through the window. He's fascinated by the hues of blue that arrange themselves over his skin, morphing as he turns his hand experimentally.
Echoes... Words... Somebody's speaking he thinks.
They filter in through the thin bars of the cell window on the door.
The voice is soft, soothing. It feels familiar.
"Noah, can you hear me? Noah?"
"Ma's it'chu?" He answers groggily, slurring his words together. "Yur ded."
Then another deep voice permeates the air, filtering in the space like a booming presence despite it being whispered. It was talking to the other voice that sounded like his Mom.
"I can get fired kid."
"Please. Mr. Johnson. He needs someone. Please."
Silence.
"Alright. I can give you no more then an hour. I'll be back when I do my second round." The distinct sound of keys are heard clanking and jingling, then the door cracks open.
The figure turns. "Thank you sir."
"Jerry will do. I'll be back when I said." The door closes behind the figure who's starting to come into focus.
"Ya died Ma. Yur ded."
"Noah?"
"Why'd ya leave?"
"I didn't. I'm here now."
"You'neve ther. Alwaaays, gone."
Puck attempts to lift his head but finds that it feels too heavy, so he keeps his blurry vision trained on the padded floor, his long fingers tracing over the padded material.
He feels the squeeze on his shoulder, but he doesn't look up.
"I hated'chu. Ferloong time. Now-yur ded. And I'm fuckin'sad bout-it."
The person says nothing, just remains silent though Puck feels the squeeze on his shoulder become more assured.
"Ya used-ta leave me with-yur boyfren's..." Puck laughs derisively, "they used ta beat-the shi outta me. Tell me I's wurth'lis. Yur so high, y'didn't care. When ya were there anyway."
The hand squeezing his shoulder travels down his arm and closes over his hand. He observes it, noticing that it looks larger then what he remembers his Mom's hand to be. His eyes rove over the pale skin, then up a lean torso clad in a familiar gray uniform, then meets blue eyes.
"K-Kurt?" Puck whispers, tears welling his eyes.
Kurt nods his head in response, his other hand lifting to gently cup Puck's cheek.
"She's d-dead Kurt."
"I know honey. I know."
The tears spill then. And Puck hates himself for it. Why should he be crying for someone who left him, treated him like complete shit all the time?
"I shudn't care Kurt. But I do."
"She was your Mother sweetie. We can't help but care a little."
"I was'a bad son. That's-why she didn't-why she didn't want me."
Kurt cups his face with both hands then, staring hard into Puck's wet eyes.
"No. You're a good person who was born into crappy circumstances. That's all. You cover it up with your meaness and anger. But I see you. I can see you. And you're not her, or any other bad thing you try to be."
Puck breaks down then. His head falling forward onto Kurt's shoulder, his muscular arms clinging to Kurt like a child clings to his favorite Teddy.
And he cries. He let's it all go. Each warm tear a larger representation of a long overdue release. He does this while Kurt whispers soft words of comfort, brushing his fingers through Puck's dark locks, tender lips pressing to his scalp here and there.
The two stay like this for a while. Long enough for Puck to no longer feel disoriented and long enough for his tears to dry up. He looks up and sees the exposed neck, soft pale skin greeting him from his place on Kurt's shoulder.
He doesn't hesitate to tilt his head up and kiss the spot. Then kiss it again, and again.
Kurt moans; a sound that shoots straight into Puck's cock. Puck peppers kisses over Kurt's neck, then jaw, then finally meets his soft lips.
He feels the urgency overwhelm him. He needs to feel this boy. He wants him more than anything on this planet.
They kiss hungrily, attacking each others mouths. Puck slides atop Kurt, pinning him underneath his weight and kissing him fiercely, their tongues fighting for dominance.
"Mmm, N-Noah."
Puck feels himself thrust, the friction delicious, sending every nerve of his cock into overdrive. He growls, thrusting again as he pins Kurt's hands to the padded floor and moves his hips, their now hardened cocks dancing against each other perfectly. Kurt's legs are wrapped around his waist, his hands pulling Puck forward into their kissing.
Puck pulls away, his eyes piercing Kurt's. He doesn't say anything, but he asks permission with his eyes as he gently caresses Kurt's thigh, gliding his fingertips where Kurt's cock is hiding underneath gray fabric. Kurt's pale cheeks are ruddy, hair mussed and eyes beautifully blue and open.
Kurt doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Puck understands the glint in his blue orbs.
It's okay.
His large hand runs over Kurt's member through his pants, palming it slowly, his dark eyes never leaving Kurt's. Kurt however is starting to squirm, his breathing becoming more erratic.
"Oh God, Noah."
Just as Puck is beginning to stroke fully, Kurt gasps and lifts himself up, Puck pulling back afraid that he may have gone too far.
Kurt retreats to the opposite end of the room, leaning against the wall while breathing heavily.
Puck stands as well, monitoring the kid, praying he didn't remind Kurt of the awful, shitty things he had been subjected to by his disgusting Step Father, or that fucktard Gavin. The mere thought makes Puck want to blow chunks.
But then Kurt's hands are splayed on the wall behind him, his breathing normalizing, his gaze trained hard on Puck, beckoning him forward.
It was too much. I just needed a second. Please, I need you.
Silent words echoing loudly in Puck's mind. He's surprised by his enormous desire, by the complete lack of hesitation, and he bounds forward capturing Kurt's lips in an explosive embrace.
He easily lifts the other boy, Kurt wrapping his legs around Pucks's waist as he grinds him into the padded wall.
"Noah. Fuck. Please."
"Uhn. Kurt. I think-I think I love you."
Their frantic motions slow to a simmer. Kurt pulls back to look Puck in the eyes.
"W-what?"
Puck couldn't believe it. What the fuck did he just say?
"I love you."
Holy shit he said it again. It feels strange on his tongue, but doesn't leave a bad taste in his mouth. He doesn't regret it.
"Me too."
Puck feels himself smile, nod, then lean back into kiss Kurt again. This time it's slow and sweet; the kiss an interesting pace being that Puck still had Kurt hoisted over his waist against the wall.
A sound other then their breathy moans and curses fills the atmosphere. The sound of clinking metal.
Puck reluctantly releases Kurt and steps back, his eyes never leaving Kurt's as the door swings open.
Jerry steps inside taking in the scene in front of him.
Two opposites in every way, standing no more then a few feet away from each other, drinking each other in like it was the last thing they would ever be able to do. Jerry clears his throat which seems to jolt to the two out of their daze.
"Kurt. We need to go."
Kurt nods and walks past Jerry toward the door. He turns to give Puck one last lingering look, a small smile, then he's gone.
Puck exhales.
"Thanks Jerry."
Jerry smirks, a solid understanding forming between the two men.
"Everyone deserves to feel something other then pain kid," and with that, Puck was left alone with his thoughts.