Disclaimer: I do NOT own rights to any of the characters from Glee. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, I'm gratified to see that people actually bothered to read given my extended absence. Anyways, this is going to be a pretty short story (but then that's me talking and I rarely write a story less than 100k words), it's also going to be more romance oriented I think and it most likely won't include any graphic slash.

Season Two Spoilers abound in this story, you have been warned.

"Cuffed" by The Jellybaby Bandit

Chapter Two

Kurt realised as he stood by the Navigator that reaching the parking lot while cuffed to another person was the easy part. The soprano creased his brow and tapped the key in his free hand against his thigh while he tried to figure out exactly how he was supposed to drive home.

'Forget driving, how do I get in?'

"OK...", muttered the brunette to himself as he puzzled out the logistics in his head.

Puck meanwhile was staring in awe at the large black car. The jock of course, knew that Kurt had a car and that he had on occasion referred to it as 'his baby' – that and something about tiara's but the half-back had tuned out by that point so he wasn't completely sure what that was all about.

Puck had thought that Kurt would drive a small stylish compact – well, a chick car frankly – so to see him driving such a big car, and American too, not fancy French or Italian or whatever to match his no doubt expensive wardrobe was a definite surprise. Plus it was just a damn nice car.

"Cool ride du...", Puck paused for a second as Kurt threw the jock a dangerous glare and quickly rephrased the rest of his sentence, "... uh Kurt..."

"I know...", said Kurt enjoying the jock's capitulation perhaps a little more than he should, "... but how do we get in?"

Kurt scowled as Puck just shrugged and offered no constructive assistance whatsoever. It took a few seconds before the soprano slapped himself mentally, what exactly was he expecting? After all, this was Noah Puckerman they were talking about. Kurt would have to be mentally ill to expect actual helpfulness out of someone who thought that handcuffing themselves to another person was a legitimate way to win an argument.

'Idiot...'

Letting out a sigh of exasperation Kurt let go of his momentary annoyance with Puck's unhelpfulness and dragged the heavier boy over to the passenger door. Not happy about how crawling across the interior of the Navigator was going to wrinkle his pristine outfit, Kurt grimaced as he pulled the heavy door open.

Clambering in sideways, the brunette shuffled crablike across the centre console and deposited himself - with little effort as it happened – into the driver's seat. Not having any choice in the matter, Puck was left to follow close behind and ended up in the passenger seat, though his arm was held out to the side at a strange angle like some kind of weird salute.

Putting the key into the ignition, Kurt brought the Navigator to life, the stereo kicking in almost immediately playing the last track on the CD he'd thrown in during his journey to school earlier that morning,

"Jeans all black
Hair slicked back
Baseball cap
Still cute in my open toes

Mini skirt
Feet don't hurt
Just a flirt
Too cute in my open toes

Work or play
Night or day
Do my thing
Too cute in my open toes
Never too many open toes
A girl needs plenty open toes..."

"Dude turn that crap off...", moaned Puck as he reached first to plug his ears with his fingers before realising that he couldn't before the jock switched and reached outwards towards the volume dial with his free hand.

"Hand's off my baby Puckerman...", growled Kurt in warning as he put the car into reverse and backed out of his space. As a small concession though the soprano did actually turn the volume down slightly as it was hurting his own ears too.

The Navigator pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway as Puck drummed his fingers, already bored and deciding that riling up Kurt was probably the best entertainment the jock would find at that moment.

"Defensive much..."

Puck's smirk returned as he repeatedly taunted the brunette by reaching for the dial before withdrawing his hand at the last second, "... think I'll contaminate your - hey, what's the gay for 'pussy wagon'?"

Puck chuckled as Kurt rolled his eyes and flicked the half-back off as they turned a corner, earning an irate look from the car alongside whose driver obviously assumed that the gesture was for him.

"You're a pig Puckerman...", said the soprano as he tried his best to ignore the jock's childish antics, "... but then you know that right?"

As the Navigator had pulled out onto the main highway, Kurt had tried to ignore the strange feeling that had been gnawing at his gut ever since he'd agreed to this insanity. Intellectually of course, Kurt knew that leaving McKinley was the right move.

The soprano had tried to ignore the actions of his tormentor for months now. Kurt had had picked himself up and dusted himself off and painted on a fixed and happy smile time and time again. But rather than make his tormentor, and for tormentor Kurt meant Dave Karofsky there was no point sugar-coating it, get bored with his lack of reaction and pick a new target, the abuse had only gotten progressively worse and worse.

And then there was the whole thing with the kiss – something that Kurt just didn't want to think about.

No. In the end it all boiled down to one simple and undeniable fact. That outside of a few well meaning individuals such as Mr Schue and – strange as it was to even consider it – Coach Sylvester, nobody at McKinley, the school board especially, seemed to care enough about Kurt's welfare to actually make the bullying stop.

True, Kurt's entire life had revolved around his friends, his school and of course, Glee. And yes, it was a lot to give up, no matter how bad the victimisation had become but Kurt really had liked the atmosphere during his 'spying mission' to Dalton. The thought of being enrolled at an institution of learning where there was a clear, zero tolerance anti-bullying policy was a major boon.

Also, Blaine being around all the time couldn't hurt.

Kurt was aware that there were bound to be adjustment issues of course, no doubt he'd be ahead in some classes and behind in others to begin with, but given time the soprano was also sure that he'd get used to being at Dalton. Given enough time being at Dalton would become the norm for him – even though he would miss terribly his friends, his school and of course, Glee.

Puck had hit the nail on the head during his earlier speech, whether intentionally or just by random chance Kurt didn't know. And as much as the soprano might have claimed at the time that he was 'simply transferring', Kurt knew that deep down in his heart he was repeating a well worn lie.

Puck had been right. Kurt was running away because he couldn't take it anymore, but could anyone really blame him for that? He was making the right decision. Right?

As the Navigator turned the final corner and the Hummel house appeared on the horizon, Kurt came to a conclusion he'd been trying to ignore for days.

He wanted for Puck to convince him that it'd be safe to stay at McKinley.

He didn't want to go.

Puck could tell that Kurt wasn't really all there, the brunette was clearly deep in thought about something. Truthfully, Puck was glad for the enduring silence it as it gave him some time to try to think of a way to convince Kurt not to leave McKinley.

'Shoulda maybe thought of that before handcuffing myself to him...'

Puck didn't know why, but for some reason he felt it was important that he succeed in his self-appointed task. The thought of a McKinley High without the sometimes snippy, most times sarcastic soprano, just didn't sit well with the half-back. If Puck didn't know any better he'd say that he actually liked having Kurt around, not that he'd admit it to a soul of course.

The drive to Kurt's house was relatively short and was conducted entirely in silence, broken only by the sound of muttered cursing when Kurt found himself cut up or blocked by another driver.

Finally after what seemed like an age, the Navigator bumped up the curb and onto the Hummel's drive and Puck was shaken from his thoughts. The jock had been to Kurt's house before of course, he'd just never been inside.

'I just mostly nailed garden furniture to the roof... and then there was the eggs incident... the dog poop incident... the teepee incident...'

Speaking of the myriad of incidents, which the jock was certain that Kurt remembered vividly, Puck suddenly became worried that Kurt's Dad would be home. Or at the very least that Mrs Hudson, or Mrs Hummel, Puck figured she would be now following the wedding, would be there to run interference for him. Finn's Mom had always had a soft spot for the half-back, ever since Puck had befriended Finn by defending the docile boy against some older and meaner bullies back in Grade School. There was one thing Puck was always guaranteed when Finn's Mom was around and that was adoration oh and usually cookies...

'That's two things stupid...'

"Uh... Kurt?", asked the jock deciding to ignore the little voice in his head that seemed determined to berate him and instead casting a worried glance at the darkened house half-expecting to see a curtain twitch at any second, "... is your Dad, like, home?"

"Huh?... oh no - my Dad and Carole are away in Maine this weekend. It'll just be us...", replied Kurt as he pulled his key out of the ignition, "... why, scared to be alone with the homo? I'm not contagious..."

The condescension in Kurt's voice was clear to hear and it rubbed Puck the wrong way,

"Get over yourself Hummel...", snapped the jock, ignoring the momentary flash of fear that passed over Kurt's features, "... Just because Karofsky has a problem with you doesn't mean you get to judge me by the same standard."

Under normal circumstances Puck would have then chosen to make a dramatic exit and let Kurt feel sorry for himself on his own time. Unfortunately the fact that he quite liked his left hand and had various very useful things he could do with it, meant that option wasn't available to him.

So instead, Puck settled for crossing one arm over his chest and glaring the soprano into submission.

Kurt remained silent after Puck's outburst and tried to calm the panicked beating of his heart. For a moment, the brunette had honestly thought that Puck was going to strike him and he'd had flashbacks of the many attacks on his person from Karofsky over the prior months. It truly was a testament to just how shot to pieces his nerves had become that Kurt now jumped at the slightest provocation like a battered housewife.

Despite that however, Puck had actually made a valid point, Kurt couldn't keep tarring every jock with the same brush as Karofsky. Sure the half-back had been responsible for a good proportion of the poor treatment Kurt had received in years gone by, but in the year since Glee had started up, well things had changed - they'd gotten better.

Puck had actually shown himself not to be a completely amoral asshole for the most part, there was a soft chewy centre to the self-professed badass.

Steadying his breathing and now no longer afraid that Puck would actually harm him anymore, Kurt realised that the notion extended beyond just the current situation. In fact the jock had begun to show a surprising amount of maturity ever since the whole 'Babygate' thing the prior year. Sure Puck had lapsed obviously, when he'd driven off with that ATM and ended up in Juvie – the half-back had still not explained exactly why he'd done that – but Kurt suspected there was probably more to that story than anyone knew. Even for Puck that whole episode was completely out of character.

Sighing and also wilting under the half-back's continued glare, Kurt replied softly,

"I'm sorry... that was unfair..."

"Yes is was...", replied Puck through clenched teeth though the jock didn't push it any farther which Kurt was grateful for.

"Let's go inside...", said Kurt motioning with his free hand to the steps leading up to the porch and into the main house.

Getting out of the Navigator much as they'd gotten in, both boys wandered up the path towards the porch. Kurt giggled as he realised, that from a distance it probably looked to people that they were walking while holding hands.

"What?", asked Puck glancing down at the tittering soprano.

"Huh? Oh nothing...", dismissed the brunette though the jock was clearly not convinced.

Kurt reached into the satchel which was still on Puck's shoulder and fished out his keys before unlocking the door. Crossing the threshold, the soprano called out,

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Kurt didn't expect an answer of course, but it was a force of habit - Kurt hated surprises.

"I thought you said nobody was home?", asked the jock as he let Kurt's heavy bag drop with a thud at the foot of the stairs.

"There's not...", replied the brunette as he dragged Puck behind him in the direction of the kitchen, "... I just don't like surprises is all..."

Coughing and holding his hand over his face as they entered the kitchen Puck muttered,

"Freak..."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the jock as Puck immediately pulled the refrigerator open and dove inside. Several seconds of silence passed with Kurt just watching the half-back unsure of what he was doing before Puck asked over his shoulder,

"Hey what gives Hummel? Where's the beer?"

Kurt rolled his eyes as he replied as if speaking to a simpleton,

"Uh... my Dad had a heart attack less than two months ago?"

Puck's head appeared from the fridge as he glanced at the soprano in apparent apology,

"Oh yeah - sorry, I forgot - how's he doing with that?"

If Kurt was surprised at the jock's surprisingly genuine inquiry the soprano's face didn't show it.

"He's doing much better, though it's easier to keep him in line by not having temptation in the way...", said Kurt gesturing into the refrigerator with his free hand, "... so no beer. There's some grapefruit juice in the jug in the door if you're thirsty."

The jock's nose wrinkled in disgust at the suggestion causing Kurt to let out a high pitched giggle. Changing the subject, Kurt suppressed his giggling as he asked,

"Hungry?...", Puck nodded emphatically reminding Kurt of a Bassett Hound with the big flappy ears, "... OK, move over..."

Kurt hip checked the soprano out of the way and quickly began pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and setting them on the counter.

"Uh - what's wrong with ordering Pizza?", asked the jock holding up an aubergine and examining it doubtfully.

"It's processed food and I happen to like my complexion...", explained Kurt as he began picking up his chosen ingredients and passing them off to the jock, "... right, that worktop over there... mush..."

Kurt expertly herded Puck reluctantly away from the menu's pinned to the fridge with a magnet, appropriate considering who lived there in the shape of a treble clef. If the soprano had to describe the jock's expression it would be close to Mr Schue's patented 'you shot my puppy' look.

The soprano giggled again and received a huff of annoyance from Puck in return as the jock set down his load on the countertop.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Kurt tried to work out how he was going to cook with a clearly cook-averse Puck attached to his wrist.

"OK... I'm going to need your help here."

Puck didn't cook.

It was an immutable fact that the jock survived on breakfast burritos and pizza. The half-back was responsible for half the weekly takings of the local Taco Bell, and Puck didn't care how much beef was actually in their burritos, even if it was all filler it still tasted good.

"Uh... I don't cook...", insisted the jock as he shook his head emphatically actually looking afraid for a second of the large gas range that Kurt was firing up.

"Nonsense...", replied Kurt as the soprano picked up a chef's hat and popped it onto Puck's head, "... there, now you look like a chef..."

Puck rolled his eyes at the brunette, but was at least a little pleased to see that Kurt seemed to be getting past the whole 'you shackled yourself to me' thing and starting to loosen up a little. If the soft smile on the smaller boy's face was any indication, then things maybe weren't as dire as the half-back had expected.

"I look like a douche...", maintained Puck though he made no move to tear the hat from his head, the less he could antagonise Kurt the better the jock figured his chances of convincing him to stay would be.

"And so what if you do?", asked Kurt gesturing around somewhat wildly with the knife that had found it's way into his hand, "... who's here to see other than me?"

'Dude has a point...'

Puck shrugged and decided to take the advice of the voice in his head. Deciding that cooperation was the name of the game, Puck resigned himself to playing along with this sudden cookery class,

"Alright then Sensei... what do I do?", asked the jock picking up a cleaver from the block in front of him and giving it an experimental swing through the air.

"Well...", answered Kurt, reaching out and plucking the deadly weapon from the jock's hands, "... you can start by peeling that onion.

Kurt Hummel was a freaking awesome cook.

"Dude...", the jock paused at Kurt's glare and swallowed his mouthful before starting again, "... Kurt this is freakin' awesome... what's it called again?"

"Moussaka, it's Greek...", replied the brunette just before popping his fork into his mouth. The pair sat side by side at the large butcher's table in the Hummel's kitchen given that they could not sit any farther apart.

"Wait...", said Puck setting his fork down and suddenly looking a little green around the gills, "... I know there's meat in it, but... it's not got actual Moose in it has it?"

Kurt's melodic laughter echoed in the kitchen as he took in the half-back's worried expression.

"No Moose, I promise..."

The jock looked inordinately relieved as he picked up his discarded fork once again and began shovelling his meal into his mouth. Through a mouthful of Moussaka the soprano was able to interpret Puck's next words,

"OK cool. Well either way, you'll make some dude a great wife someday that's for sure."

Kurt decided, though he didn't really know one way or the other, to take Puck's statement as a compliment and not be offended at being referred to as someone's 'wife'.

'This is still Noah Puckerman after all... I'll have to make allowances...'

"Oh hey...", said Kurt suddenly realising he'd forgotten to mention something earlier to the jock.

Puck paused, his fork halfway to his mouth and a look of apprehension on his face,

"You lying rat bastard...", said Puck setting his fork down again, "... there is Moose isn't there..."

"What? No...", answered Kurt smirking at the relieved look that once again adorned Puck's face, "... I meant to say we could stop by your apartment if you need to pick up clothes and stuff..."

Puck shrugged and spoke around a mouthful of his meal,

"Nah, it's cool. I can live out of my bag for a week if I have to..."

The pair were interrupted a moment later as Kurt's cell, which had been sitting on the counter behind them vibrated and then went silent.

Acting on instinct, Kurt pushed himself to his feet before his brain kicked in and he remembered about the cuff on his wrist,

"Aaargghhh...", cried Puck as the jock dropped his fork and was yanked to a half standing position. The taller boy watched in helplessness as the contents of his dropped utensil splattered down the front of his pants, "... what the Hell dude?"

For once, Kurt didn't scold the jock for his use of the word 'dude', he was too busy looking apologetic,

"Uh – oops?"

Puck just looked at Kurt, who looked at Puck right back before the jock snorted and began to chuckle. Kurt's high pitched giggling joined in a moment later before Puck began to laugh outright drawing the soprano into laughing right alongside him at the absurdity of it.

Moments later, the pair shuffled in the direction of the sink where Kurt passed a damp cloth to the jock and Puck wiped down the stain on his pants leg.

Kurt meanwhile snatched up his cell and having checked the message, quickly pocketed it his smile dying away to nothing.

"That your boyfriend?", asked Puck.

Kurt glanced up and seeing Puck looking at him and expecting an answer, the soprano mumbled,

"Huh... oh, I'll answer it later."

Puck shrugged and handed the cloth back to the soprano who rinsed it out under the faucet and hung it up to dry.

"Uh... what now?", asked Puck, tapping his toe against the leg of the chair.

Kurt glanced up at the jock from where he'd been apparently deep in thought. As if shaking himself from a bad dream, the soprano glanced at the clock on the wall before a wide smile split his face.

"I know just the thing - you'll love it Noah..."

'That can't be a good sign...'

Kurt dragged the unresisting Puck into the den and flicked on the large flat-screen TV before sitting himself down at the end of the couch and leaving Puck with no option but to sit beside him.

As the screen flared into life, Kurt picked up the remote before getting himself more comfortable by tucking his legs under him, Indian style.

Puck watched in silence as Kurt quickly surfed from channel to channel before settling on one unfortunately familiar programme.

"Oh God no...", muttered the jock about to protest.

"What I say goes...", sang Kurt in a childish voice while stuffing the remote down the side of the couch where Puck couldn't reach it, "... remember?"

"But...", protested Puck, for once showing a petulant childish side which he usually kept hidden behind his badass rep, "... not America's Next Top Model..."

Kurt giggled as he smirked at the half-back before turning back to the screen,

"And it's a double bill too..."

"Just, kill me now...", muttered the jock as the opening credits began to roll.

A/N: I aim to release a chapter a week I think on this new fic, as I say I have most of it mapped out if not actually written. What I'm releasing now is the stuff I've had written for several weeks now.

I hope you enjoy and please help save the fairies and REVIEW!