Catalyst
Chapter 21
By Dani J.
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Summary: Kurt and Blaine have decided to just be friends and the dapper boy realized he really missed Dalton Academy so he's gone back. No Klaine-bashing is intended, it just wouldn't have worked for this fic. However, Kurt has an admirer in a new kid… and Puck isn't happy at all but doesn't seem willing to step up.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait, you guys; RL gets in the way sometimes. Thanks for all the reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Disclaimer: I own nothing whatsoever. Blame RM and company for this unfairly attractive and addictive group of characters. Well, except for my cute, original character, Kristopher.
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Last chapter: Noah reached over at one point to grab another handful of chips, leaning across Sam to do that. Suddenly, Sam looked at Noah, his blue eyes puzzled and then he said, "Dude, why do you smell like shower gel?"
There was a deathly silence and then, once again, raucous laughter rang around the family room as Kurt shook his head mournfully, Noah stared at Sam with huge eyes and Mike rolled around on the carpet. Artie was the first to recover and finally, as the laughter died down to a more manageable level, he looked at Sam.
"Dude, don't ever change."
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Kristopher watched Kurt saunter down the corridor, the ever-present dark-skinned girl beside him like a bodyguard. Kris admired the way Kurt's charcoal-gray jeans clung to his pert, round ass, the globes flexing as he strode alongside his friend.
Santana watched Kris watching Kurt, a devious gleam in her black-olive eyes.
"So, you have a strategy yet to win over Lady Fair from my stud?"
Kris startled slightly and turned to look at the diminutive cheerleader, her head barely coming up to his shoulder. Her delicate appearance belied the truly iron-hard personality behind her beautiful eyes and he realized that he was glad he didn't find her that appealing. He almost felt sorry for Puckerman for being the object of her affections.
"Uh, yes, I guess."
"You guess?" Santana's eyes narrowed and one small, strong hand shot out to grab his forearm, tugging him closer to the bank of lockers they were standing beside. She turned to watch the horde of fellow students swirl past them and then she swung her head around to glare at the tall teen.
"Listen up, the longer you drag your ass getting into Dough-face's skin-tights, the tougher it's going to be for you." She tightened her hand on his arm, sinking her nails into the sleeve.
Kris frowned now; he hated being manhandled, even if it was by a girl who weighed a good 70 pounds or so less than him.
He shook off her hand and straightened away from the lockers. "Look, I want Kurt for myself, okay? How I go about winning him back is my business… and mine alone. I don't need your help."
She scoffed and shook her head, her ponytail bobbing. "You might think you're all that but clearly Lady Hummel prefers my boy to you. So, in my book, that means you're going to need all the help you can get!"
Just then, the sound of Kurt's sultry giggle floated back to them and Kris looked up in time to see the boy he was crushing on smiling up at Puckerman who had joined him and Mercedes. As Kris watched, Kurt slapped the muscular jock's arm playfully, but then he let his hand linger in a little caress. It wasn't blatant, in-your-face fooling around but it was undeniably intimate.
Feeling his gut clench at the sight of the two boys flirting, Kris just knew that things had progressed a bit between Kurt and Puckerman. He finally looked back down at the smirking Latina.
"Okay, okay. What do you suggest I do?"
Santana's smirk morphed into a scary Cheshire cat grin. "Now you're making sense. Come with me into my office," and she spun on her heels and led him toward the empty gymnasium.
Kris eyed her trim form and then rolled his eyes. He felt somehow like he was walking into a lion's den – really, lioness' – but he had no real clue how to separate Kurt from Puckerman's clutches. He hated to admit it but he probably did need Santana's help, God help him.
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The afternoon found Kurt in the girls' lavatory, half bent over Noah washing blue slushy from his hair. They'd dropped their guard on the way to Glee and been ambushed by a couple of the jerks on the hockey team. It wasn't Nelson or any of his goons so apparently they hadn't passed on the Glee guys' warnings to the rest of the hockey team.
Noah stared up at Kurt's bottom lip that was caught in his teeth as he concentrated on washing the corn syrup away. He almost smiled but he knew that Kurt didn't find any of this funny; it wasn't funny but Noah was definitely enjoying the attention and almost wished they didn't have to leave the sanctuary of the girls' restroom.
"Okay, I think that's all of it now," Kurt murmured as he turned off the taps and then squeezed the excess water from Puck's hair. He then reached for his messenger back and pulled a towel out, rolling his eyes when Noah grinned at him. "Yes, we've learned to be prepared in this cess-pool of a school."
His sniping didn't faze Noah at all who took the opportunity to grab Kurt's hips and pull him down onto his lap.
"Hey! What are y_" Any further protest was muffled when Noah slid his tongue into the warm, sweet space and Kurt barely held back a groan. Kissing Noah had to be his new favorite thing, he thought as the hand not holding the towel slid up to caress the tanned teen's jawline. He gentled the kiss, smiling as Noah made a whiny sound, and sat back to look down into the dark eyes.
They stared at each other, soft smiles underlying the silent conversation between them – the sort of things that new lovers thought and whispered only to scream or groan later into receptive ears. Seriously, though, the girl's bathroom was not the place to be caught making out or even just eye-fucking each other as they were doing now and Kurt slid off of Puck's lap with a little grin.
"Come on, stud, let's get you all dry and shiny for Glee," Kurt murmured now, his voice a little husky, thanks to the fact that he was slightly hard just from kissing Puck.
Noah felt as if he could look at Kurt forever because every time he looked at him he felt like he was seeing another previously unseen facet. Kurt's face was smooth, composed but for the wash of pink on his cheekbones and his plump, smiling lips. Noah would never be able to explain how it is he'd gone from being a lover of women to this… totally besotted with a slender, pale-skinned, blue-eyed boy with the voice of an angel and the temper of a_ He couldn't think of anything equivalent to the fury that Kurt could unleash but the closest thing was watching a volcano erupt. First the smoke, maybe a little rumbling of the ground, just slight things you were inclined to ignore. Then would come the eruption… and all this drew Noah like nothing else.
Now he slid his hand up Kurt's surprisingly well-muscled thigh and stopped with his middle finger just an inch or so from the noticeable bulge in Kurt's jeans. That was another thing; how in hell did Kurt fit himself into these torturous jeans, packing what Noah knew now was a whole lot of boy? He watched the color deepen in Kurt's cheeks and then smirked.
"Do you know what I want to do to you right now," Noah said, his voice low and his eyes intense, watching Kurt like the predator he was known to be.
Kurt didn't often see remnants of the old Puck in Noah these last few days; now though he had a feeling that this was the version of Noah all those Cheerios had got quite up close and personal with, and the pulse jumped in his throat. However, he cleared his throat, smoothed out his expression and rose from the other boy's lap unhurriedly.
"I have a very good idea, Puckerman. Right now, however, all you'll be doing is drying yourself off and changing into this shirt that I have for you."
Noah straightened up in the chair kept conveniently in the girls' bathroom and tugged on Kurt's hand. Kurt didn't come closer but he did smile at the jock. Noah huffed in slight irritation and then took the towel, scrubbing it all over his mohawk and then looking back at his boyfriend.
"I'd ask why you have a shirt for me in your ladybag but I guess you'll tell me you're always prepared." He secretly felt smug that Kurt did, indeed, think of him while packing whatever mysterious stuff went into that satchel he was never without. It gave their… thing… a level of intimacy he'd never, ever had with anyone else.
Kurt pretended to sniff haughtily and stared down his pointy nose at the other boy. "Well, of course, I'm always prepared. A certain person, whom I will not name at the moment, used to take great pleasure in dumpstering me. All this," and he made a gesture to his face and body, "takes time to perfect. I couldn't go through the day with the remnants of yoghurt cups and pieces of banana peel all over me, could I?"
Noah sat forward in the chair, handed Kurt the damp towel and then slipped out of the damp, sticky tee-shirt, glad that he had left his letterman jacket in the choir room, along with his back-pack. He murmured thanks when Kurt handed him a black tee-shirt that was probably a size too small and slid into it before getting to his feet.
Kurt's eyes ran appreciatively over the boy in front of him, unaware of the gleam in his eyes and probably the way he bit his lip as he watched Noah fiddle with one of the short sleeves. My boyfriend has a body that doesn't stop, ran through his mind, not realizing that Noah was watching him watch him.
"Like what you see?"
The flirty question snapped Kurt back to what they were supposed to be doing: getting out of there and heading to Glee club, and he snorted delicately.
"If I didn't, you wouldn't have got the chance to do what you did last night, now would you?"
With a saucy little twitch of his shoulder and a smirk on his lips, he took up his things and sauntered out of the bathroom ahead of Noah. Of course, Noah took the opportunity to eye the jeans-clad ass in front of him and followed Kurt.
The night before had found them in Noah's room, door locked, panting and groaning into each other's mouth as they jerked each other off to quite satisfactory conclusions. Kurt had stared, dazed, into Noah's eyes as he caught his breath, wondering how come, barely two months after breaking up with Blaine, he had found himself in this position.
Now, as he headed towards the choir room, Noah striding beside him, he smiled to himself. I guess this could be classified as a whirlwind relationship, he grinned to himself, throwing a quick glance at Noah. "I'll meet you in the choir room. I've a book to get from the Library that I need for an assignment."
Noah slid an arm around his waist and pulled him in for a kiss that should have stayed chaste, given where they were but there was no one around by this time so he went for it.
Kurt moaned as Noah sucked his tongue into his mouth and Kurt's hard on that had gone away came back to life. He tore his mouth away from Noah's and panted at the grinning boy. "Will you stop that!"
Noah grinned unrepentantly and rubbed his own crotch against Kurt's quickly before letting him go and stepping back. "Hey, I can't help it. I may have switched teams but I'm still a stud!"
With a hard pat to Kurt's backside – he studiously ignored the indignant squeak – he strutted down the hallway, secure in his badass self. Kurt stared after him, simultaneously turned on and slightly annoyed… and then he shook his head. Moving off down the other corridor that led towards the Library he muttered to himself about tigers and not grabbing them by the tail.
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As Puck approached the choir room he saw Tina and Cedes outside the door and he raised one eyebrow in inquiry as he approached.
"Ladies, any reason why you're out here and not in there?"
It was a little odd because Glee usually started on time because Schue was almost always on time. However, Cedes answered him with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
"There's just way too much drama in this school and too many leaders of this damn club!"
Tina nodded but clarified for a now very curious Puck. "Rachel and Santana are going at it again. The others don't know whether to take sides or not."
Puck frowned. "So what's Schue saying?"
"Oh, he isn't here as yet_ Well, he was but he got a message that Figgins needed him for a meeting with Sue. God knows she's probably on another mission to destroy the club."
The three of them nodded knowingly, all really tired by now of the ongoing feud between the two coaches. For some unknown reason, Sue had taken an instant dislike to Will, citing everything from his butt-chin to his curly hair as being offensive to her. Will, nice guy that he was – though a bit clueless – tended to shrug off everything Sue threw at him, which pissed her off more, everyone realized. Now she was trying, once again, no doubt, to get Figgins to do what she couldn't – annihilate the Glee club.
"Yeah, she's shit out of luck this time. I think Schue finally convinced Figgins that this year we have a real shot at bringing home a trophy," Puck said now in his usual laconic, couldn't give a shit tone. When he glanced down the hallway as if looking for someone, Cedes raised one eyebrow at him and asked, "Where's your boy?"
Just to mess with her he asked, "Which one?"
Mercedes struggled to hold back the laugh and mock frowned at him, glaring from beneath lowered brows. "The only one I care about, white boy!"
He held up a hand in mock surrender as Tina giggled. "Okay, okay, jeez. He's getting a book from the Library; he'll be here in no time, Aretha, so you can cool your tits."
He hopped out of the way as she playfully swung her bag at him. "You leave my 'girls' out of this, you perv!"
They laughed as they strode into choir room, barely noticing the air of quiet hostility. Puck sauntered up the risers to his usual seat and Mercedes took hers down in the front, Tina sliding over one to leave room for Mike to join her.
Puck looked around the room and then picked up his letterman jacket, frowning as he realized he'd left his cell phone in the pocket as he felt it bump against his leg. He shrugged it off, although he was sure that he had instead left it in his back pack, and then relaxed as he waited for Kurt to return.
He nodded at Finn and the guys, and then glanced up when he heard his name. He turned to Quinn and raised a brow, waiting for her to speak.
"Weren't you wearing one of those hideous heavy metal graphic tees this morning?"
Puck shrugged and then threw out a devil-may-care grin. "Uh-huh, one of the dicks on the hockey team probably didn't like it, threw a slushy at me and then ran like the little bitch he is before I could wipe that shit out of my eyes."
There were exclamations all around but the loudest was Finn's.
"Dude! Did you see who it was? I can go kick his ass right now; Schue isn't here yet."
Puck tamped down on the urge to laugh, looking at Finn's earnest face, so outraged on his behalf. Puck held up his hand as Mike and Sam chimed in with their obvious approval of that idea.
"Nah, it's cool; I'll get the bastard another time… soon." He smirked and no one there had any doubt that he would. Puck could fuck up a guy real good before the fool even saw it coming. Still, it was good to see the guys pulling together like that, willing to get revenge for one of their own.
Santana piped up in a sickeningly sweet voice that fooled no one. "So, what happened? You came prepared with another shirt just in case?"
Puck eyed her suspiciously as she got up and came to sit way too close to him, her breasts brushing one of his impressive biceps. He shook his head, "No, Kurt had it for me… packed it with his stuff this morning."
The silence in the room was so tense all of a sudden, he looked around, taking in the various expressions on the others' faces. He realized then that maybe, even after all the emotional drama that had gone down, they hadn't taken his feelings as serious. Maybe they'd thought he would get into Kurt's pants and then move on, calling it an experiment or something. He rolled his eyes and then turned to look at the door as both Kurt and Schue came into the room.
Kurt's eyes went immediately to the Cheerio almost sitting in Noah's lap and his face froze though his steps never faltered. His eyes slid to Noah's, however, and he let his lips curve into a little smile that no one could doubt as anything but intimate.
Noah felt his face warm slightly at the look that Kurt was giving him as he strode to his seat. Kurt lowered one eyelid in a saucy wink before sitting beside Mercedes, his head up, shoulders back, crossing his legs and altogether giving off an air of someone who had absolutely everything under control.
Santana saw the exchange between the two boys and her blood boiled. She had put her plan into effect before the others came into the choir room and now, anger goading her, she gave a soft laugh that was still loud enough to draw the attention of the others – except Kurt.
"Baby, you know I would have… taken care of you," she said now in a blatantly seductive tone as she pressed a breast harder against Puck's arm. She stroked up said arm to rest her hand on his shoulder, looking up flirtatiously through her lashes at his disinterested face.
While Schue, clueless and oblivious to the tension in the room as usual shuffled papers and muttered about Regionals rules, Mercedes grasped Kurt's hand and squeezed it gently. He smiled at her, though, unconcerned. Unlike with Blaine, for some reason he was confident that none of the Latina's games would work on Noah.
Kurt knew very well that the vindictive Cheerio was boiling mad at what she saw as Puck's defection. Her continuing glares at him and snide remarks sailed over his head and slid off his back as he maintained an air of cool indifference. This only served to rile her more and Kurt thought briefly how much like her cheerleading coach she was – a bitch to the last.
Suddenly, Santana rose from the spot beside Noah, an object in her hand. He looked at her, puzzled, wondering why she was holding it as if it were evidence in a court of law. He didn't have long to wonder; the Cheerio strode down the risers to sit beside her too-quiet girlfriend, all the time making odd little humming sounds.
Then…
"By the way, Kurt, have you seen the latest picture on your Puck's phone? Oh," she widened her eyes dramatically and put a hand to her lips before giggling in faux innocence. "Maybe this isn't the sort of thing somebody like you would appreciate."
She tapped rapidly at the screen and then held it up to show Brittany, tacitly inviting her to join in on the so-called 'joke'. Brittany however, took one look at the screen, paled, and the bit her lip.
Everyone in the room now was riveted on the little play unfolding before them.
"Guys, we need to start setting up rehearsal schedules for both Sectionals and Regionals," Schue's voice startled them into staring at him blankly. He didn't continue though, going back to spreading out reams of paper on his desk and muttering to himself. All attention immediately went back to a smirking Santana who had gotten up again to walk towards Kurt.
"Wanna see?" She came to a halt before Kurt and held the phone out but suddenly Mercedes grabbed it from her, glaring hugely at the slender girl.
"What shit is this, Santana?!" Mercedes's voice ripped through the room, causing even Kurt to flinch at the extreme volume. Mercedes lurched to her feet and Santana took an involuntary step backward. No one said a word as they watched the two girls face off against each other.
"What does it look like, lardo? It's a pho-to-graph," Santana stated, insultingly slow. "What the fuck does it look like?"
"Santana, please!" That was Schue, finally picking up on the fact that things were not their usual state in the choir room. Everyone, including the Latina ignored him.
"Listen up, you skanky whore, I don't know what your problem is, but you better get over it… and real soon. I have no time for this. Now sit down and shut up or you will feel my size 8-wide up your skinny behind!"
"Mercedes, please!"
"Mr. Schue, please!"
Everyone gaped at Kurt who had now stepped into the fray. He turned his attention to the two girls squaring off in front of him and he put a hand on Mercedes' substantial arm. She ignored him for all of five seconds before glaring at him, huffing and then re-taking her seat.
Kurt folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the Latina who barely came up to his shoulder. She could be intimidating but she did not frighten him. He would never hit a girl… well, he had been brought up never to hit a girl… but he would make an exception in her case if it became necessary.
Santana glared at the boy towering over her and gritted her teeth. "Well, don't you want to see what it is?"
Kurt affected an air of boredom, stared at her for a few seconds and then held his hand out, palm upward, for the phone. She glanced quickly at the screen that had gone dark after so much time had passed, tapped it to get it to light up again… and handed it over with an air of triumph.
He stared down at the phone, just barely suppressing the urge to grimace, and studied the photo. It showed Santana in Noah's letterman jacket… and what seemed to be nothing else.
Everyone held their breath waiting and wondering what was on the phone. They couldn't know what was on it but they knew Santana; it had to be something probably illicit and definitely in poor taste. Everyone watched Kurt's face and waited for his reaction.
Kurt stared at the pic for a little while longer, noting the tech details of the photo… including the time. Suddenly he turned to the risers, looked straight at Noah and smiled.
Noah automatically smiled back and then it fell as Kurt looked back at Santana but clearly directed the next statement to him.
"Babe, I suggest you wash that jacket carefully before you put it on again." With that he took his seat, still holding the phone and stared insultingly at Santana with one elegant eyebrow raised as if to say, 'Well?'
Santana hadn't realized that she had raised her hand to slap Kurt's smirking face until she felt her wrist grabbed and twisted down to her side. She cried out in pain and stared at Mercedes who had been watching the interplay as if she had, indeed, suspected how Santana would react.
"Hell to the naw, bitch! No one touches my boy… but his boy!"
She turned away as if unconcerned but spun back at the sound of Santana's outraged scream and Brittany's, "San, no!"
Mercedes's eyes widened at the sight of Finn holding the madly struggling Latina, her feet off the ground and her legs flailing as if she was still trying to kick Mercedes. A stream of invective poured from the struggling girl's mouth and it was only Schue's wincing that convinced them that yes, she was cussing up a storm in Spanish!
The others stared at Finn and Santana as Schue hurried forward with a horrified look on his face.
"SANTANA! Pull yourself together or I will see to it that you are thrown out of the Cheerios. Stop it now!"
For the first time ever the kids heard a tone of authority in Schue's voice and even Puck looked surprised. Kurt looked at their choir leader with a faintly skeptical air and then turned his eyes towards Santana.
Her feet were on the ground now and she was straightening her clothes and smoothing her ponytail as if nothing had happened. The high color in her face and her heaving chest gave the lie to her studied demeanor and then she stalked over to go and sit beside Brittany. A low murmur ran through the choir room and Schue clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.
While all of this was happening, Brittany had sat there with a stricken look. Now, as Santana took her seat beside her and tried to look as if she had not just suffered a humiliating set down, Brittany stood as Schue spoke.
"Mr. Schue," she interrupted him. "I don't feel good. Can I go?"
Santana turned concerned eyes up at her girlfriend; Britt usually told her if she wasn't feeling well.
Schue stared at her, nonplused, and then looked at Santana who usually saw to Brittany as she was prone to getting lost between corridors. "Uh, Santana, will you_?"
"No, not Santana," came Brittany's quiet voice and she ignored the stricken look on the Latina's face.
Across the room Quinn leapt up. "I'll take her home, Mr. Schue. As it is, I don't think anyone is in the mood for practice right now."
She said it in such a quiet yet respectful way that Schue found himself nodding. The general shuffling and movement drew attention away from her as she hurried over to Brittany and took her hand. The blonde hugged her backpack to her chest and stepped past her ex-girlfriend, her head down and generally looking like a kicked puppy.
Puck and Kurt left the room with Mercedes pushing Artie's chair, Finn, Mike, Sam and Tina carrying up the rear while Finn complained that everything had made him hungry again.
Slowly the room emptied out, leaving Schue staring at the papers he had been trying to organize so he could give it to the kids to peruse. The competition season was coming up and the administrative stuff had to be handled along with all the rehearsing and making of costumes, fund-raising, etc. They did not have time for personal, petty dramas and vendettas and he was heartily sick of it after these three years.
He looked up as Santana rose slowly from her seat, a faraway look on her face.
"Santana? You okay?" He had seen lots of different expressions on this girl's face, most of them unpleasant, but he honestly couldn't say what he was seeing now.
She looked up at him almost as if she didn't understand the words he'd spoken and then she blinked as if coming back from somewhere. She didn't smile or frown but Schue knew that he was looking at someone who was on a mission. Determination was there, deep in her eyes, but Schue realized he had no idea what that mission could be. He was clueless most of the time but he knew that Brittany's refusal to have Santana take her home was a pretty significant event.
Santana gave him a wisp of a smile and then shook her head, her ponytail swinging. "I-I don't know, Mr. Schue," her answer finally came, her voice low.
"Do you need a lift home? Or should I call somebody?"
She blinked and then it was as if the real Santana, the one that had tried to scratch Kurt's eyes out, slowly filled her eyes. She smirked full out, now.
"I can take care of myself… but thanks for asking," and with that she swung out of the room, her super-short cheerleading skirt flipping from side to side.
Will stared at the door before shaking his head. Not for the first time he heaved a sigh and a prayer, thankful that his teenage years were long past.
God, maybe the name should be changed to Drama Club, he thought now as he tiredly returned to shuffling all the papers Figgins had given him back into his satchel. Things could not be anymore melodramatic if it were.
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TBC
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