Chapter Eight

The plan was put into motion the following Monday. The first thing on the list: post-its.

It used to be a running joke between him and Kurt; how sickeningly sweet would it be if they left a post-it note on each other's locker every now and then, leaving a stupid message to brighten the other's day. It was always just teasing and Puck would never even consider it, but he got to know Kurt with time – he'd come to recognize the gleam in his eye when he really wanted something, but didn't want to ask for it for fear of being rejected. Apparently, the boy was an untreatable romantic.

And so, after the pep talk Blaine gave him, Puck snatched a stack of pink post-its from his mother's desk and set out to write the most painfully romantic set of notes the world's ever seen.

Two hours and five chewed-down pencils later, all he had was a load of diddly and a pile of squat. He'd tried everything: roses are red, violets are blue (and who the fuck thought of that, anyway? Violets were violet, that's where the name came from), describing Kurt's best features in the most flowery way he could think of, citing Kurt's favorite books…he even watched a rerun episode of Days of Our Lives with his mother to get some inspiration, and the result was still nothing.

It was a Friday, though – he still had two days to come up with the winning idea. There was no rush, he thought as he grabbed another piece of paper to practice on, wrote your eyes are like and got stuck.

He'd never once thought about giving up.

The perfect solution came to Puck's mind on Saturday night. The house was dark, save for the light from the TV where his Ma was watching talk shows before she fell asleep.

The whole scenery reminded Puck of something – one of their Thursday nights in Kurt's room, watching Project Runway and Puck complaining constantly, because an important football game was on. Kurt's "I don't mind watching football with you", his head comfortably settled on Puck's chest, his breathing slowing and eyes closing within five minutes.

And, just that easily, Puck was flying up the stairs to his room, grabbing a hold of the post-it stack, not even bothering with practicing before he started writing.

Remember when…

~*~

On Monday, as much as it pained him, Puck set his alarm clock half an hour earlier than usual. He actually got out of bed after the first ring, put on his clothes and ate his breakfast one-handed in the car, parking in the deserted McKinley parking lot. He checked his bag once more – he had everything he needed, which wasn't much - the post-its (all of them, he wasn't doing this like a pussy), tape and a lockpick. He used to know Kurt's locker combination, but the othery boy had probably changed it by now.

Puck got out of the car, enjoyed the total silence of his surroudings for a while, then pushed the door open and headed straight to Kurt's locker.

Ten minutes later, just as the first nerds started appearing on their way to the library, Puck finished his masterpiece and scurried off to hide and watch Kurt's reaction.

~*~

Part one of Operation Bring Kurt Back was a big, fat, fucking success. Puck had to admit – the Hobbit was probably right. Kurt's smile when he read the post-its was the real one: genuine, true, lighting up his eyes with a little glow and making him look so much more alive than he'd been since he came back.

Of course, it didn't last for longer than fifteen seconds, but the facts were still intact: Kurt was still inside that shell of a boy somewhere, hidden under the piles of crap the manipulating sons of bitches tried to drown him in.

Now it was up to Puck to dig him out and man, did he enjoy a challenge.

Part two, after a little consultation with Blaine and convincing Sam to help him, was a song. Not just any song, of course - Human, one of Kurt's favorites.

Naturally, there wasn't a way he was getting Kurt to come and watch a performance, which meant Puck had to steal two guitars out of the choir room on lunch break, snatch Sam, and find out where Kurt was eating. The latter proved to be the hardest; when the little shit hid somewhere, he was almost impossible to find.

With the break nearing it's end, Puck swallowed his pride and pulled out his phone, calling Mercedes.

"Aretha, start one of that freaky grapevines of yours. I need to find Hummel before the break ends." He didn't really wait for her answer; knew she would do it, curious what was going on.

Sam was looking at him from under the ridiculous blonde bangs all skeptical, but sure enough, two minutes later, Puck's phone came to life in his pocket.

"Schoolyard, behind the bushes by the basketball hoops," Mercedes barked into his ear. She could barely hold back all her questions, Puck could hear it in her voice, but now that she had a location, she'd be there in no time and find out herself.

"Schoolyard," Puck motioned to Sam, breaking off in a light run, not enough to get him too breathless – he still needed to sing.

McKinley's schoolyard was a very complicated piece of landscape architecture – a concrete rectangle that served as a universal field, a running track, three benches, ten trees and a bunch of basketball hoops with thick bushes at their base, which, according to Mercedes, was where Kurt was hiding. No wonder they haven't seen him before – nobody would even think about eating back there.

When him and Sam skidded to a halt a few feet away, waiting to hear a sound or see a bush rustle to indicate where Kurt was, there were only five minutes left. They spent three of them hiding behind a sports equipment storage shed, and finally, with the sound of the warning bell, Kurt in his hideous clothes stood up, brushed off his pants (and hey, was the new him supposed to do that?) and slung his bag over his shoulder, before taking off in the direction of the school.

Puck glanced at Sam, nodding once, then counting four down on his fingers. Coming out from behind the shed, they started playing, Puck immediately pitching in with his voice, and Kurt stopped dead in his tracks. He turned – there wasn't a trace of the old him anywhere on his face or in his eyes, but Puck wasn't known for giving up. Taking his voice higher and playing louder, he was fully prepared for when Kurt broke off in an almost-run.

Thankfully, Puck could multitask.

Sam breathing heavily behind him, they chased Kurt back to the school, through the hallways, and by the changing set of his shoulders, Puck knew they were getting somewhere.

Just before the door of Mrs. Auldron's History class shut in their faces, Kurt turned and his eyes met Puck's. There was the tiniest of green sparks dancing in the blue orbs; Puck recognized it as mirth.

So what if the fucker was laughing at him. Puck was acing this shit.

Part three was a little tricky to figure out. Kurt wasn't into flowers, chocolate or stupid plushie teddybears, and Puck had to wrack his brain and relive every conversation he'd ever had with his ex-boyfriend to finally, finally experience a moment of clarity on a sleepy Saturday night.

The thing was, Kurt wasn't into material shows of affection at all; he'd always liked cuddling better than being given a silver bracelet, and a hand on his heart meant more than a new outfit, as surprising as it was. Puck always promised himself he'd remember it for later (and no, he wasn't thinking of taking Kurt on a trip to New York and proposing on the most random of sidewalks with a candy ring, thank you very much), since it wasn't something that was apparent.

And now, he figured with a devilish grin, now was his chance.

~*~

The next time he was at Gloria's was a week after his sort-of date with Alona; the guys decided to take the meeting out and get some hot tea and pancakes, since it was getting colder and colder outside.

Throughout the whole evening, Adrian always made sure he was sitting as close to Kurt as possible, watching him like a hawk and making him fidget in the unfamiliar clothes they made him wear again.

Although, maybe, he was starting to get the point. There was a lot of customers inside Gloria's, many of them girls, and Kurt noticed there were looks pointed this way he'd never attracted in his designer outfits. Wearing a loose t-shirt and pants obviously gave him some sort of a vibe, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't flattered.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad – he could try to wear more 'masculine clothes' once in a while.

And, he also had to admit, they were really, really comfortable.

Just before eight, the heavy wooden door swung open again, letting in a gust of fresh, cold air and a bunch of girls, wrapped in jumpers and scarves. Kurt immediately recognized Alona's blonde hair and Jenna's slanted eyes, and when the remaining two girls shed some of their clothes, they turned out to be Emma and Naya. The former looked around the room, caught sight of him and turned away, trying to hide her face – Gloria obviously told her about Kurt's progress. It did sting a little when she walked away without saying hi, but she still was a lesbian and Kurt was just starting to see how wrong that was.

One way or another, Emma was soon forgotten when Alona came closer, wrapped her arms around his waist and dove in for a kiss. He barely managed to keep up, and wasn't entirely comfortable with Adrian's gaze he felt burning on his back, but when she smoothed a palm over his cheek and smiled, everything else was forgotten.

"Hi," she smiled, her cheeks pink from the cold outside, and Kurt couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey."

"How've you been?" she hopped up onto a barstool next to him, ordered a lemon tea and started playing with the ends of her scarf. Kurt frowned; he hadn't really seen her nervous in the couple of weeks he'd known her.

"Everything's great," he smiled when he realized he's supposed to answer; saw her sit up a little straighter. "How about you?"

She shrugged. "Nothing special. I kind of missed you," she mumbled, and Kurt could swear that was a blush, making it's way up her neck and to her cheeks. He smiled in reply, not quite knowing what to say.

Gloria set down Alona's mug and the girl flinched, before dropping her scarf and laughing, apparently at herself. Shaking her head like she couldn't believe she was acting like this, she turned to Kurt again.

"So, I basically just wanted to ask...if you want to be my boyfriend."

Kurt felt like all the air was sucked right out of his lungs for a second. His mind took him to the time when he'd heard almost the same sentence for the first time – choir room, a few days after they ended up kissing behind a bus at Sectionals, everyone already gone, just him and Noah sitting on the floor by the drumset. The giddy, careless feeling that made him want to fly was unfamiliar in the scarcely lit café full of Dalton students.

He blinked. That wasn't what he was supposed to be thinking about – there was a beautiful girl sitting opposite him, a girl he'd lost his virginity to, and she wanted to date him. To help him change and become a new person.

"Of course I want to be your boyfriend," he smiled shyly and caught Gloria's gaze; her eyes were sad, but she didn't say anything.

Seconds later, he had a lapful of happy Alona to deal with, and even though her hair smelled like coconut, not cinnamon and cologne, it was an amazing feeling.

~*~

Lying in his bed with Alona was strange – not bad, just...strange. Dalton beds were big, and even if they weren't, she was wrapped around him so tight it wouldn't have mattered.

They left Gloria's with the rest of the guys and Jenna sometime after nine, Grant determined to sneak the girls in and 'have some fun', as he put it, which made Kurt stop listening. Amazingly enough, though, they did it – Grant and Sebastian pieced together a plan that involved Kevin distracting the doorkeeper, two long coats and a lockpick (for what, Kurt wasn't sure), and, minutes later, they were saying goodbye on the landing, sneaking into their respective rooms.

Kurt and Alona, of course, ended up in bed again. He had no roommate they had to worry about, nowhere to be the day after, and, as a teenage boy, definitely no problem with having sex.

The thing that kept him up at – he glanced at the clock – four in the morning, was something entirely different.

He was probably acting like a girl, and, according to his new mentors, that wasn't something he was supposed to do, but...he was thinking about how sleeping with Alona made him feel. Not that he had much to compare it to; his previous experience with other people went as far as making out and a few innocent touches – with a guy, so it didn't count now, anyway.

There was something, though, about the way her breath hitched when she was on the edge, the way she whispered his name in the dark afterwards. How her lips made his skin burn and tingle, how his hips hurt with the effort of keeping them on the bed when she closed her lips around the head of his cock. He could still feel the orgasm in the tips of his fingers.

The thing was, there was no way it could ever be like this with a man. It wouldn't work so smoothly and beautifully, their bodies wouldn't fit together like a machine constructed by mother nature and just waiting to be assembled. A guy's hands wouldn't be so wondefully smooth, his lips so soft, and he couldn't imagine the itch of stubble on the sensitive skin of his abdomen.

No guy – not even Noah, who didn't even really exist – could make him feel this way.

Ever.

~*~

After he made things official with Alona, See the Light started to feel like the greatest group of friends he'd ever had. They knew exactly what was going through his head and helped him without even asking; they took him places – even though it was only in Westerville - introduced him to people, and asked about Alona every single time he ran into one of them in the corridors.

On Fridays, the all headed out to Gloria's, drinking anything hot she put in their hands, eating cookies and playing guinea pigs for her experiments with new flavors. She was always nice to them; treated them like they were her own sons, ignored the traces of sadness that always crept into her eyes and settled in the wrinkles on her face.

With Christmas coming near, Gloria was testing eggnog recipes and, on one or two rare ocassions, let all of them have a sip. Kurt hated the taste of alcohol at first, but when it burned it's way down his throat and into his veins, it relaxed him and made him feel at ease.

It was one of the 'tasting' evenings when he noticed how strange had Adrian been acting. He talked to Kurt about everything, threw his arms around his shoulders in a 'guy' way, like they were the best of friends, which, being in the same group and coming from similar backgrounds, they kind of were, at least at Dalton.

Which is why he was surprised when Adrian started sending him strange looks that apparently meant something. Kurt couldn't figure out what - he just frowned and kept talking about Finn's night basketball incident, laughing with every second word. When he turned back to Alona, though, she was also looking kind of...weirded out. Kurt didn't let it faze him; he'd dealt with a lot worse than just strange looks.

"And then he jumps over the fence and starts banging on the front door, shouting 'let me in, let me in!' and I was laughing so hard I couldn't even come down the stairs—" and then Kurt realized what the whole weird staring thing was about.

Adrian's hand, warm and steady, landed on his, guiding it from it's positiong high in the air back to the tabletop.

Carole alway used to say that when he got really excited about something, Kurt talked with his hands. Now that he thought about it, a lot of people thought it was funny how he tried to imitate the size and shape and mood of every word he'd said, but nobody's ever called him out on it.

If he tried to picture himself, it probably looked more than a little girly.

And okay, he was dating Alona, and his silent conversation with himself about feelings and sex had settled his orientation for him, so he didn't really see the point of keeping his hands down like every other person – he wanted to have some individuality. If it was only Adrian with him, Kurt would give him a piece of his mind – but one glance to the left revealed Alona's face, half-hidden by the shadows of the room, and he figured that for her, he could try.

For the rest of the weekend, both on Saturday and Sunday, special See the Light meetings were held. Apparently, the group's birthday was coming up, and Marcus and Sebastian were trying to pitch an idea of a celebration to the headmaster, but needed some ideas first. Each one of them was supposed to write what a good celebration had to entail, and Kurt was pretty sure almost everyone's first thing written on the list was 'girls', judging by the absolutely identical wrist movements.

He wrote down a couple of ideas of his own, threw them into the growing pile on Adrian's chair. Adrian started unfolding them one by one, mostly nodding approvingly and adding one or two things to the list of seriously considered possibilities – not that Kurt understood why were they making such a big deal out of this.

"Guys, please, this is serious, we don't have time for jokes, okay?" Adrian scowled when he read the next piece of paper – by the triple folding and handwriting shining through, Kurt recognized it as his own.

"We're not going to have a fondue fountain – unless any of you wants to step out and admit to being a fag."

He never noticed when they started throwing around slurs, but after that, it suddendly started to be pretty often.

The first time he'd said 'fag', he was sitting among the others in a circle and they all heard him; he couldn't take it back, even if the small something in his stomach kept twitching and fluttering until he'd forgotten about it.

Maybe it had always been that way. Maybe he just hadn't noticed.