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: I've been splitting my time recently between three different projects and it's stretching me kinda thin. So the plan now is – concentrate on one of my smaller projects and get it to a conclusion quicker so I can score it off my to-do list. Of course finishing one of my smaller projects will mean taking it from 5,000 words to probably 25 to 30,000 words so it's no mean feat! XD
So here it is – I give you the next instalment of my Artie/Puck friendship fic. I had originally intended for this entire story to be two chapters – tops – and then I'd kill it off. Yeah well – best laid plans and all that shit! LOL
And before I get the inevitable comment – I know Marc – I know! Rod for my own back etc. Three Chapters and it'll be done. Maybe four. Unless fate hates me. XD
"F&ck You!" by The Jellybaby Bandit.
Chapter Two
***WARNING SERIES TWO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY***
It was Saturday morning when Artie woke and stretched before getting himself ready for another day. At least on Saturday's there was no school – the morning was free from rushing about and desperately trying to get ready – not that Artie ever had to rush around getting ready .
Artie Abrams prided himself on his preparation – it was just something he'd come to focus on as a matter of course – after all, it wasn't as if he could just nip up from his chair and go back and get something if he'd forgotten it.
And so he prepared. Meticulously.
Today he had to prepare for Puck's arrival and try to work out exactly what they had in common which they could both sing about. Artie had a feeling that was going to prove to be tricky.
The way Mr Schue had described their task, he wanted different people within Glee club to start to collaborate together. Artie had no problem with that at all – at least not quite as much as say Quinn had letting Sam work with Santana – boy there was a cat-fight just waiting to happen.
Artie only hoped that when it did finally go down, that someone was there with a paddling pool filled with chocolate sauce.
Hey – a guy could dream right?
As he dragged a comb through his hair, Artie heard the telltale click of his clock radio and realised that he'd not switched it off. It didn't matter though as Artie didn't mind music in the morning – it was an adventure each time to see what would be playing.
"DJ: This is KACL 780 – all music, all morning – coming up soon some classic Barenaked Ladies but first, let's get a little Vampiric in this house - shall we?"
Artie smiled hearing the distinctive intro – despite years of not being able to – each time that he heard a song he liked, the urge was still there to want to tap his foot to the beat. Lima, Ohio might not have been the most hip place in the world to live – but it did have some of the best radio stations, or at least Artie liked to think so.
"I wake up
My shoulder's cold
I've got to leave here
Before I go
I pull my shirt on
Walk out the door
Drag my feet along the floor
I pull my shirt on
Walk out the door
Drag my feet along the floor..."
Artie wheeled himself across his room to the door to his walk in closet and pushed the assistance button his parents had fitted all those years before. The bespectacled boy drummed his fingers against the wheel with his right hand as he sang along with the radio,
"Then I see you
You're walking cross the campus
Cruel professor
Studying romances
How am I supposed to pretend
I never want to see you again?
How am I supposed to pretend
I never want to see you again?..."
Artie opened one of the cabinets which had been specially converted to be the right height for him when in his chair and pulled out a pair of suspenders which he clipped into place before rolling back out again, the door closing automatically behind him with a soft hiss.
"Walk to class
In front of ya
Spilled kefir
On your keffiyah
You look inside
And turn to the door
Drag your feet along the floor..."
Artie checked the clock on the wall and saw that it was about the time that Puck said he'd be there – well not actually – Puck had said something about Artie being around now but that he'd be there, when he got there.
"Then I see you
You're walking cross the campus
Cruel professor
Studying romances
How am I supposed to pretend
I never want to see you again?
How am I supposed to pretend
I never want to see you again?..."
At least Puck had narrowed it down a little to agreeing to work on Glee during the day and Artie was fairly confident that the jock would keep his word. He certainly hoped so as the jock had mentioned something about not being free at night because he'd be tapping a Cougar or something and that was something Artie just did not want to think about.
"In the afternoon
You're out on the stone and grass
And I'm sleeping on the balcony
After class
In the afternoon
You're out on the stone and grass
And I'm sleeping on the balcony
After class
In the afternoon
You're out on the stone and grass
And I'm sleeping on the balcony
After class
In the afternoon
You're out on the stone and grass
And I'm sleeping on the balcony
After class..."
At the exact moment that Artie rolled to a stop by the clock radio and hit the off switch he heard the unmistakeable sound of someone rapping heavily on the front door.
Artie wheeled himself into position to receive his guest, knowing that his Mom would send Puck straight through back to see him.
"Hey Puck...", greeted Artie with a smile, "... you found us OK then?"
Puck looked at weekends – well, exactly like he did during the week at school – dressed in his usual attire of a washed out pair of jeans and classic rock tee, paired with an old beat up pair of All-Stars.
Puck nodded in greeting to the bespectacled boy as he set set the guitar case in his hands down by the door.
"Uh... yeah...", the jock glanced over his shoulder in apparent thought, "... say you wouldn't have a pool that needs cleaning would you?"
Artie furrowed his brow in confusion before gesturing to his legs.
"Not really no..."
Artie would have sworn that the expression on Puck's face was regret as he shrugged his shoulders,
"Ah well – guess not."
Artie cleared his throat before he wheeled over to his desk. Picking up a sheaf of paper, he turned to speak to the half-back,
"I uh – I was going to do some searching for a song for us last night – but I realised that Mr Schue wanted us to do something with meaning to both of us."
Puck nodded and unsnapped the clasps on his guitar case before lifting the instrument out.
"I remember dude – whatever we choose though it better be a badass tune..."
Artie snorted as he shook his head at the jock – the few weeks Puck hadn't been around, while markedly less dangerous to the wheelchair-bound boy's health – hadn't been half as amusing.
"Fo' shizzle my nizzle...", reassured Artie with a smile.
"Word of advice?"
Artie raised a curious eyebrow at the jock – who'd have ever thought he'd be accepting advice from Puck?
"Lose the Snoop-Doggy-Douche shit...", said Puck with a serious look on his face, "... you're like the Martha Stewart of gangsta..."
Puck set his guitar down on the large bed and perched himself on the edge as he waited for Artie seemingly to make a decision on how to get things moving. Artie however was still reeling from Puck's sudden attack on his gangsta skills.
"Alright – well – ignoring your ignorance of my fly gangsta skills...", Puck snorted as he shucked off his shoes and pushed himself back on the bed to lean against the headboard ignoring the raised eyebrow from the wheelchair-bound boy, "... I figure what Mr Schue wanted out of this whole duet exercise was for us to all start getting to know each other. Other people we don't usually collaborate with that is."
Artie looked at Puck to make sure the jock was following his train of thought – after all it'd be a long day, if Artie left Puck behind at any point.
"Sounds fair enough. So what? We play twenty questions til we know each other or should we rent a copy of Beaches and bond?"
Artie paused to considered the proposal – the first proposal that was – no way was he going to watch Beaches with Puck, he'd rather hack off his legs with a rusty penknife.
Not that he'd feel it of course but it was the sentiment that counted.
Actually Artie admitted, playing twenty questions would be an easy way to get to know the jock – and once they found some common ground they could then try to choose a song. Of course, there would have to be ground rules though – Artie wasn't a complete idiot.
Artie wheeled himself to the door to his room and swung it shut with a thump. Seeing the raised eyebrow from the half-back, he clarified,
"If I'm going to be spilling my deepest darkest, then the last person I want hearing is my Mom."
Puck smirked as he replied,
"What? Don't want Mommy dearest knowing how often you jack off or somethin'?"
Artie blushed – he had never been good with the whole sexual teasing thing – as Puck chuckled at his discomfort.
"You do jack off don't you?", asked Puck with a horrified look on his face, "... everything works right?"
Artie couldn't believe he was having this conversation – in fact that wasn't true – he could believe it, he just didn't want to.
"Of course I do! And yes everything works!"
Artie's indignant expression sank into one of mortification as Puck smirked at him – having gotten the wheelchair-bound boy to lose his composure as he'd clearly intended from the outset.
'Damn you Puck...'
Returning to the matter at hand, Artie tried to change topic away from his own masturbatory habits and back onto the half-back.
"Do you want my Mom knowing how many chicks you've screwed?"
Puck smirked and scratched at his chin thoughtfully – as if evaluating Artie's Mom for hotness – the thought both concerned Artie and made him feel a little nauseous,
"Maybe..."
Artie wrinkled his nose in disgust – of course he'd goaded Puck so he had nobody to blame for the horrible images now in his mind but himself.
"I'm so going to need therapy after this..."
Puck chuckled again and stretched out on the bed with his hands behind his head,
"Chill dude – so who goes first Professor?"
A knock at the door prevented Artie's reply before his Mom appeared bearing a tray with -
'Oh for God's...'
"I thought you and your friend might like some lemonade and cookies hon'..."
Artie got over his initial embarrassment in short order as he snorted at Puck whose eyes had lit up at the mention of the cookies.
"Here let me get that for you Mrs Abrams..."
The jock shuffled off the end of the bed and crossed to help his Mom set the tray on the desk.
Artie watched on in silent horror as the jock proceeded to check out his Mom in the most obvious of ways – obvious to him anyway – thankfully for Artie's own sanity, his Mom remained oblivious to the half-back's lecherous ogling.
Artie Abrams was no fool though.
Intellectually, the wheelchair-bound boy understood that at 34 years old, his Mom was still in the prime of her life and that she had always been a very good looking woman. Though she continued to call herself 'Mrs Abrams', Valerie Abrams had not actually been married to Artie's Dad in almost five years.
After the car accident in which Artie had lost the use of his legs and ended up in his chair, things hadn't gone so great between his Mom and Dad. The bespectacled boy could remember so clearly, the nights spent lying in his bed and straining his ears while listening to the hushed angry voices in the next room.
It had been in Artie's nature to blame himself for the breakdown of his Mom and Dad's marriage. Just like it was in Artie's nature to blame himself for his condition. Of course, neither issue had in fact been Artie's fault – he had just ended up being the catalyst that threw into relief so many other incompatibilities between his parents. In the end, having all their differences brought into the harsh light of day was what pushed them apart.
'Thank you Nana for teaching me that it wasn't my fault...'
Greg Abrams had been a varsity football player – a man-mountain standing 6'4'', so strong that Artie was convinced he could have lifted their house. Of course that was just a childish recollection of the man Artie had known and idolised.
In reality, Greg Abrams was a insurance adjuster who just couldn't handle the thought of having a son that would never walk, never mind play football as he had.
Artie's Mom and Dad had fought hard to keep their marriage together – but it just wasn't to be. It was on Artie's tenth birthday, some 18 months after the accident, that his Dad had left his Mom. His Mom had organised a surprise party for him in his backyard with a clown and a bouncy castle and cake and ice cream – everything that a ten year old boy could possibly want.
It should have been one of Artie's happiest memories.
Sadly though, Artie's prevailing memory of his birthday party was of his Dad's arrival midway through Koko the Clown's performance. His Dad had been steaming drunk, having been out drinking from leaving work the prior day and had proceeded to get into it with his Mom, right there in the middle of the lawn.
When the Clown had tried to intervene and calm things down as his Dad had been spewing some truly terrible things, his Dad had laid poor Koko out with a single uppercut to the chin, leaving the man lying prone on the steps to the inflatable castle.
Balloon animals never really did have the same ability to make Artie smile after that day.
His Dad had moved out of their house the next day and within a couple weeks it seemed – at least to Artie's ten year old recollection - had filed for divorce. His Mom got to keep the house and his Dad had never missed an alimony payment in the years since. And as an added bonus, Artie now got to travel three hours to Cincinnati every second weekend in order to see the man and his 'new' family – his Dad having remarried a couple years back.
It was all screwed up to Hell but that's life.
Shaking himself out of his revelry, Artie focused again on his Mom. Valerie worked part-time as a Pilates instructor at the Country Club Spa and with her long blonde hair which was usually tied back in some kind of bun and her thin, 5'7'' frame, Val Abrams was still regularly the envy of girls half his Mom's age.
That didn't mean of course, that she was free to be ogled by just anyone.
"Why thank you – Puck was it? And please – call me Val."
"Val – short for Valerie?...", the woman smiled warmly at the jock and nodded.
"Yes that's right? Is Puck short for something? Or do you just like Hockey?"
"Noah Puckerman, but everyone on the football team always calls me Puck."
The jock flexed his guns a little as Artie watched on in growing disquiet as his Mom seemed to be seriously flirting with Puck.
'Oh this is just sick...'
"Oh, you play football? Y'know Artie's Dad used to play too?"
Artie was going to be sick – there was no doubt about it – he could feel the urge to start hurling in Linda Blair-esque fashion all over his bedroom. And that would be a terrible thing, as he was sure he would never get the green out of his carpet.
'Puck is hitting on my Mom... ewwww...'
"Well Mom...", Artie hurriedly cut in and distracting the pair who had seemingly forgotten he was even there, "... we have a lot of work to do so..."
The woman seemed to collect herself as she glanced between her son and the boy the same age as her son, standing next to her before she cleared her throat and looked slightly abashed.
"Yes – well... you boys holler if you need anything..."
Artie aimed a glare at Puck behind his Mom's back as he correctly predicted the jock was about to open his mouth and say something laced with innuendo.
"We will...", promised Artie as he escorted his Mom to the door, "... and thanks for the cookies."
The woman nodded before disappearing off down the corridor leading back to the kitchen. Artie meanwhile closed the door over and with a long suffering sigh turned to face the smirking jock.
"What?", asked Puck – a cookie lodged in his mouth sideways leaving him looking like a that kid from iCarly with the huge mouth.
'I suppose that kid looks like a bit like Sam Evans ... if you squint...'
"You're a dick."
Puck snorted cookie crumbs all over the carpet before he started coughing loudly. Artie wheeled himself over to the desk and poured a glass of lemonade from the pitcher before offering it to the wheezing and red-faced jock.
"Thanks...", said Puck accepting the proffered glass and draining it dry.
Artie rolled his eyes at the jock before taking another swipe at him – verbally if not physically – for daring to flirt with his Mom.
"What the Hell was that about anyway? I thought you were supposed to be gay or something!"
Artie realised quickly that he'd made a mistake. The friendly, teasing light that had been in Puck's eyes died a death as the jock set the glass down on the table and stalked away from Artie to go stare out of the window.
"Uh – Puck? Look I'm sorry, I know I -..."
"Shove it Abrams..."
Puck's tone was cold but held none of the fire or anger that Artie was expecting to hear. The jock was careful it seemed to keep his back fixed to Artie, so the wheelchair-bound boy had no way of telling what expression was on Puck's face.
"You were being serious about that then?"
Puck's shoulders seemed to slump a little as the jock turned to face Artie. The strain was clear to see on the half-back's face as he aimed a glare at the contrite Artie. It was something Artie had never before considered – that Puck could have problems of his own and stuff to deal with just like everybody else.
'He's a human being too...'
"You really think I'd joke about that shit?"
Artie felt terrible for having said something to get back at the jock that had clearly had a more profound effect that he had intended.
"I – I guess not...", admitted Artie as he gestured to the bed and Puck shuffled over to take up his previous position with the minor change that he drew his knees up protectively to his chest.
"I guess you'll want to count that as Question 1 huh?"
Artie was surprised to hear a note of bitterness in Puck's voice and it took him a second to work out the reason behind it.
Puck expected him to use the information against him. To turn the tables on his erstwhile bully and get some revenge on the boy that had tossed him out of his wheelchair on more occasions than he could count.
"I won't tell anyone if that's what you're worried about."
Artie snorted as Puck raised a single challenging eyebrow in patent disbelief.
"Sure you won't. I just gave you the scoop of the century and you won't tell a soul."
Artie shook his head as he picked up a cookie from the platter and bit into it – his Mom's cookies really were the best. As he chewed Artie had a thought – not one he particularly liked – but one that might help convince Puck of his sincerity.
'Quid Pro Quo...'
Artie swallowed his bite of cookie before taking a deep breath and biting the bullet.
"One time I let my math tutor suck me off."
Puck smirked before the smirk died once again and he waived off the attempt to share embarrassing secrets.
"Nice try Abrams – but some chick giving you head doesn't come close to equalling 'Puck likes dick'..."
Artie swallowed around the lump of cookie which had gotten lodged in his throat. He had half-expected Puck's response but had hoped that the jock wouldn't press him to make a further admission.
'Shit...'
Oh well – he'd come this far – and the assignment was to get to know each other better.
"Jeremy is a strange name for a chick don't you think?"
Puck's breath caught in his throat. Had Artie just come out and said what he thought he had said?
"Holy shit!"
The jock stared at Artie in shock as the bespectacled boy ducked his head and refused to meet Puck's eyes which were wide with incredulity. Puck continued to turn the admission over in his mind - Artie Abrams let his male math tutor give him head – and he'd just admitted it to him. To him. To Puck.
"Holy shit!", Puck repeated – his brain stuck in a loop.
The wheelchair-bound boy's tone of voice was slightly bitter as he replied,
"You said that already."
Puck shook himself free of his initial shock as he took in the slumped shoulders and embarrassed air around Artie.
'He did it to even the score...'
Puck's posture straightened at the realisation and he considered the new information.
"What the Hell dude?"
It was all Puck could think to say – Artie's admission was a shock yes – but it needed an explanation. Some kind of reasoning to explain exactly how and why it had happened.
If they were truly going to be playing twenty questions to get to know each other then this would be as good a place to start as any.
"That your Question One?", asked Artie with chagrin.
"Who says we have to count?", asked Puck, "... let's just talk – no holds barred – what do you say?"
Artie lifted his eyes to meet Puck's gaze – the jock could see the fear mingled in with the embarrassment and felt a gratitude towards the wheelchair-bound boy for offering to make himself as vulnerable as Puck had been.
It was a classy thing to do. And brave.
Damn brave.
"Brass... or maybe granite...", mumbled the jock with a rueful smile.
Artie's expression was one of confusion as he found he had to ask,
"Huh?
"You're balls Abrams..."
Artie couldn't help it – despite his embarrassment at his admission – he chuckled at the jock as Puck smirked.
Several seconds of silence passed between the pair as they tried to re-evaluate exactly where they stood with each other.
Both boys had ended up revealing very personal secrets to the other – secrets that neither had ever thought would end up seeing the light of day.
It was Puck however that broke the silence with a clearing throat,
"Uh – I'll go first if you want."
Artie shrugged, which Puck assumed to be assent to the suggestion.
"You uh – know I was in Juvie obviously. Well there was this kid there, scrawny little cocksucker...", Puck grimaced at his slip of the tongue and noted that Artie hadn't missed the slip either, "... sorry guess I shouldn't use that word anymore huh? There was this scrawny little kid called Shaun."
Artie nodded thoughtfully before he posed a question of the jock,
"So you and this Shaun?"
Puck screwed up his face like someone had just force-fed him a lemon and shook his head vehemently,
"Fuck no! I hated the little shit – always mouthing off at me and calling me a moron."
Artie tried to stifle the grin that wanted to break out on his face and was largely successful – all apart from the telltale twitch of his upper lip.
"OK so – what then?"
Puck sighed and dropped his gaze from the wall above Artie's head to the bedspread and noticed for the first time the subject matter on the duvet cover.
"Dude – what the fuck?"
Artie blushed and looked supremely embarrassed as he tried to defend his bedspread,
"It's the periodic table!...", Puck snorted in amusement, "... I had some trouble remembering it alright!"
"So you thought - 'I know, I'll stitch it into my bed so I never forget' – what the Hell is on your pyjamas, your school timetable?"
Puck's eyes widened noticeably as Artie didn't immediately respond but instead his eyes darted for a second to beneath the pillow the jock was leaning against.
"Oh... this is too good...", crowed Puck now thoroughly enjoying their get to know you exercise, "... they're under your pillow aren't they?"
Artie groaned and ran his hand over his face in agitation as Puck shuffled around and lifted the pillow before starting to chuckle loud and long.
"You gotta be shitting me...", Puck glanced over his shoulder at the mortified figure of Artie as he grinned, "... Spider Man?"
"My normal ones are in the laundry alright?"
Puck replaced the pillow and got himself comfortable again whilst Artie continued to sputter.
"Sure Abrams – or should I say – Spidey!"
"Oh God...", groaned Artie – this experiment had gone horribly, horribly wrong, "... can we please get back on track?"
Puck continued to grin at the wheelchair-bound boy as he gestured for Artie to ask his next question,
"Sure thing – shoot."
"So you and Shaun never? If not then how?"
Puck wrinkled his nose in disgust and shook his head before sighing. It felt strangely nice to have someone that Puck could talk to about all this shit – ever since getting out of Juvie there hadn't been anyone that the jock could open up to.
'Never thought it'd end up being Artie Abrams though...'
"Shaun just – the little bastard made me think...", said Puck with a wry smile, "... like, lie awake all night just thinking think. And I realised that there was a chance – just a small chance – that I might be attracted to another dude."
Artie had remained quiet while Puck had spoken which the jock appreciated more than he'd admit. Not having the bespectacled boy throwing out question after question meant that the jock could admit to things on his own terms and at his own pace.
"So this other dude? He have a name?"
Puck's stomach twisted in a knot – of course he'd known that he would never be able to have the conversation he was having without having to admit to the subject of his sudden lusting – but what would Artie think of him? He'd treated the boy so badly over the years after all.
"Uh yeah...", Puck ran his hand through his newly reacquired mohawk in agitation, "... he does."
Artie waited patiently for several seconds before it became clear that Puck needed a final nudge,
"Well?"
The jock sighed before quietly muttering almost so softly that Artie couldn't hear him.
Almost but not quite.
"Kurt."
"Kurt? As in Kurt? Kurt Hummel? That Kurt? Our Kurt? The Kurt?"
Puck rolled his eyes as Artie continued to hyperventilate and refused to answer such a stupid serious of obvious questions. How many other Kurt's did both of them know after all? It wasn't like it was that common a name in Western Ohio.
"Oh wow – this – this is big Puck!"
The jock grimaced as he nodded – Puck had gone over it in his mind for damn near two weeks now – he knew very well exactly how big a deal it was.
Noah Puckerman was hot for Kurt Hummel. Stop the presses. Cancel the Superbowl. The world was going to end.
"Yeah..."
Artie seemed to be getting carried away on a wave of euphoria – a euphoria that Puck knew would lead to nowhere – he'd already struck out with Kurt already after all.
"So are you going to tell him? Is it just Kurt or do you think you like other guys too?"
Puck's shoulders slumped and he rubbed tiredly at his eyes – 11am and he was already exhausted.
'Stupid Mr Schue and his Glee assignments... get to know each other... it'll be fun... yeah right!'
"No and No. It's just Kurt."
Artie's voice was laced with disbelief as he replied,
"No? Why not? I thought - "
Puck looked Artie in the eye and the wheelchair-bound boy instinctively knew that there was more to the story as his voice trailed off and the jock spoke.
"Because I already did!"
Artie didn't know what to say as he took in the slumped shoulders and look of defeat on Puck's face. What had started out as a Glee assignment seemed to have morphed into a weird confessional where each boy had offered up their biggest, baddest secrets to each other.
"Oh..."
Puck's wry grin was the only response to Artie's shocked response,
"Yeah..."
"I assume given your less than enthusiastic expression that it didn't go well?"
Artie watched as Puck snorted before chuckling – it wasn't an amused chuckle however, more tinged with regret if the wheelchair-bound boy had to put a name to it.
"You could say that – he called me a mouth breathing Cro-Magnon with all the appeal of a weekend break at the Bates Motel and told me to leave him the Hell alone."
Artie winced at the biting response the jock had received from Kurt. It wasn't completely unexpected though – Puck had systematically terrorised a number of kids during his life – and Kurt Hummel was one of the most picked upon.
It was only natural that Kurt would react with a certain degree of scepticism to Puck's sudden, inexplicable change of heart.
"I had to look up the Cro-Magnon bit...", admitted Puck softly, "... I suppose I can't really blame Kurt really."
Artie truly felt bad for Puck. Sure they'd had very little interaction in the past besides Puck being Puck and of course performing together in Glee – but the jock was a human being with feelings – and it appeared as though Kurt had thoroughly trampled all over Puck's feelings.
'He wasn't to know better though...'
Deciding to change the subject and try to get Puck's mind away from the mire it was lodged in, Artie chose to fall on his own sword.
"OK. My turn."
Puck looked up and Artie could see the gratitude in the jock's eyes for his actions. Who knew – perhaps after this assignment was over he and Puck would end up friends?
'Don't push it Abrams...', the wheelchair-bound boy reminded himself.
"Jeremy – your math tutor?"
Artie nodded slowly – he had never told a soul about his encounter with the older boy who had been tutoring him in advanced calculus – it felt strange to be talking about it now.
"Yeah. He was 17 and I was 15...", Artie's eyes glazed over as he drifted off into his memory, "... I – I'd never expected that I'd have a girlfriend – what with the chair and everything. But I'm still a guy and I have urges just like everyone else."
Puck raised his hands in a defensive posture as he spoke,
"Not judging dude..."
Artie smiled slightly as he continued to relate his tale,
"Jeremy was gay, is gay, I guess. I knew this – it was never a problem – he was good at Calculus which is what I needed help with. We – we used to joke around a little when we were working, I always think better when I'm relaxed y'know?"
Puck nodded in apparent understanding before motioning to Artie to throw him another cookie, which the bespectacled boy did without thought.
"I'd – I'd never been kissed. Never had a girl show any interest in me. So when Jeremy did – I just, I guess I latched onto it. I know now I'm not gay or bi or anything like that. I was just – lonely."
Artie sighed and poured himself a glass of lemonade which he held in his hands and sipped from every once in a while.
"It only happened the once – I cancelled my tutoring sessions after that – Jeremy knew why though we never talked about it."
"Wow dude...", said Puck scratching his chin, "... that's wild."
Despite their reservations at the start of the exercise, both Artie and Puck found themselves relaxing into their conversation as the hours ticked by. Puck, Artie discovered was a far more intelligent guy than he had ever given him prior credit for – and they had indeed found several points of commonality in their likes and dislikes.
Their most recent discussion had been the breakdown of Artie's relationship with Tina and her subsequent taking up with Mike Chang.
"... sucks Dude... but fuck her, plenty more fish in the sea...", commiserated Puck.
"Sea's a lot shallower when you're in the chair...", sighed Artie.
Both boys had between them long since polished off the mountain of cookies and drained the pitcher of lemonade when the door to Artie's bedroom opened and Val popped her head around the jamb.
"Sorry to interrupt boys..."
Artie looked up and smiled at his Mom – he was actually grateful for the interruption as he was dying for a bathroom break and the discussion about Tina had been emotionally draining to say the least.
"That's alright Mom – what's up?"
Val looked a little uncomfortable as she glanced at Puck – who to his credit also looked a little chagrined. One of the topics of conversation that both he and Puck had covered that afternoon had been the difference between admiring someone else's Mom and hitting on someone else's Mom.
"I have to leave for my shift hon', will you and your friend be alright on your own?"
Artie ignored the mocking grin on Puck's face at the babying – it was a side effect of the fact he was in the wheelchair that his Mom sometimes forgot that Artie was as old as he was – in many ways she still saw the broken little eight-year old boy he had once been.
"Of course Mom – we'll be fine – have a nice shift."
The blonde looked unhappy to have to leave but nodded before smiling,
"There's money in the jar if you and your friend want to phone for pizza – I'll be home about eleven."
"Thanks Mom."
The door closed again softly, quickly followed a few seconds later by the sound of an engine in the drive which then disappeared into the distance.
"Sorry again dude – about the whole Mom thing...", mumbled Puck with genuine honesty.
The more Artie talked with Puck the more he came to understand the boy behind the bravado – he was perhaps just as confused and lost as the rest of the world – he just hid it behind a brash exterior was all.
"That's cool – as soon as you're gone I'll tell her your gay...", joked Artie earning himself a glare from the jock.
Artie checked the time on his cell and raised an eyebrow.
"It's four-thirty – you said you had something to do tonight?"
Puck shrugged – he had told Artie he was going to be tapping on of his Cougars that evening – the truth was however that he had zero interest in doing so.
'Hummel has fucked me over...'
Since coming out of Juvie and having had his revelation about Kurt, the jock had agonised over what he was going to do. It was a big step to take to admit that you were attracted to someone of the same sex.
A number of different but equally pertinent questions had arisen. What would happen if Kurt rejected him? What would happen if he said yes? Would he want the world to know? Could Puck tell the world? Did he want the world to know?
As it happened – none of the questions Puck had considered were the right question – there was one question the jock had overlooked.
What if Kurt already has someone?
Blaine. Fucking Blaine. What kind of a name was Blaine anyway? Fucking third rate magician's name is what! The jock wished he could stuff the Private School dick into a glass box or encase him in ice for thinking he could take what was his!
Puck had been full of hope as he'd returned to McKinley. He'd thought things through – he'd take his time and execute his plan perfectly. Stage one was to get Kurt to let his guard down a bit – the brunette was always so tightly wound around him that it would be impossible to convince him he was being honest about his feelings otherwise.
So after he'd come back and reasserted himself – in his absence some of the jocks had gotten ideas above their station – Puck had set about his plan.
He wasn't going to change who he was obviously – he was still Puckzilla – but a more caring, gentle Puckzilla.
'Jesus I sound like a detergent...'
So Puck had decided that he would start small – it was the little things that Kurt would notice more than the grand gestures – he would also accept little changes easier than big ones.
Puck had arrived early for school for perhaps the first time in his entire life as he stood talking with Finn though his attention was fixed on the bank of lockers by the door to the Geography classroom.
'Kurt's locker...'
"So I flexed the guns and told them... if you think you can take me – make a move – otherwise I'm eating this pudding."
"Wow dude – Juvie sounds bad...", Finn's expression was a mix of concern for Puck's welfare and also awe from the storytelling, "... oh, I have class... you coming..."
"I was the baddest mother in there...", said Puck with a smirk, "... and are you kidding?"
Finn rolled his eyes before exchanging a fist bump with Puck and heading off down the hallway.
Puck's attention was distracted a moment later as a loud banging sound drew his attention across the hall.
'What the?...'
Puck growled as he saw Kurt sitting prone on the floor, his locker door swinging open above him. It was only once he'd stopped and actually looked that Puck had realised just how much shit Kurt was forced to put up with on a daily basis.
Usually Kurt was able to shrug off whatever baggage he was lumbered with and carry on. But ever since his Dad had ended up in the hospital – thankfully he'd gotten out whilst Puck was locked up – the strain of keeping his chin up seemed to be getting to him.
Puck could see the cracks appearing – and so it seemed could the bullies who had redoubled their efforts at seeing they were getting a response now.
"Kurt? You OK?"
Puck had missed the part where he'd crossed the hallway and offered his hand to the brunette. The jock's heart ached a little when Kurt looked at Puck's hand like it would bite him before scrambling to his feet under his own power.
"What do you care? Sorry you didn't get to me first?"
Puck didn't have an answer for the accusation – it wasn't like the jock could just say 'hey no, I sort of want to kiss you now so it's all cool'.
Life just wasn't like that – life wasn't a TV show – it wasn't fiction.
"Would you believe me if I said I was sorry?", asked Puck trying to lace his tone with sincerity.
Kurt paused and looked Puck in the eye, seemingly trying to weight up the jock's question.
"No. No it wouldn't."
Puck's face fell as the soprano dismissed his apology out of hand. The jock had known that getting Kurt to change his view of him would be difficult, but he didn't expect it to hurt quite so much.
"Let me prove it to you then."
Kurt's expression was a mix of confusion and anger,
"Prove it? Prove what? What the Hell is there to prove?"
"That I'm sorry."
Kurt sighed and Puck swore he could see the sheen of unshed tears in the brunette's eyes. The urge to reach out and offer comfort was something Puck was not expecting to feel and caught him a little off guard.
"Why should I care if you're sorry? Sorry won't change five years of persecution Puck. Just – just leave me alone. If you want to prove that you're sorry just – stay away."
That same pattern had repeated for several days – Kurt would get beat down on by one of the jocks, usually Karofsky who had taken a special dislike of the soprano – and Puck would stand by and watch. The urge was there of course to simply go take Karofsky and his Hockey stick and introduce one to the other as a form of suppository but it wasn't what Kurt wanted.
The brunette had been quite clear about things and if that was what Kurt wanted then Puck wasn't going to go against his wishes.
'You should just tell him...'
The thought had been niggling at Puck since the initial encounter with Kurt on his first day back. Kurt was obviously wary of the jock's intentions towards him – he had offered the soprano a helping hand and an apology for his prior behaviour without explanation as to why.
Maybe if Kurt knew the reason why Puck was different now he'd be more open to it.
'Or he'd run screaming for the hills...'
And so Puck had kept his distance and watched in concern as Kurt seemed to lose a little bit more fight each day.
Until he couldn't take it anymore.
Kurt had had a particularly rough morning, Karofsky had first pushed the soprano into a bank of lockers and had then followed it up a few minutes later with a slushie attack. Puck had no idea what it was about Kurt that riled up Karofsky so much – but the motivation behind the continued attacks was irrelevant – it was the effect they were having on Kurt that Puck wasn't prepared to accept anymore.
Kurt looked defeated – something that Puck had never before seen on the brunette's face. It appeared that he was giving up – and that fact had been confirmed for Puck when he'd heard that Kurt had gone on a reconnaissance trip to the Dalton Academy.
Enough – Puck decided – was enough.
Kurt was beat down.
There was no other way to describe the way he was feeling these days – the way he'd been feeling for too many days now.
Ever since he'd come out of the closet at McKinley there had obviously been the problems with homophobes – however the past couple of months, ever since his Dad had gone into the hospital – Kurt had begun to wilt under the pressure.
There was only so much persecution one person could take before they can take no more and Kurt was fast approaching his limit.
The brunette had spoken with Mr Schue about his situation – the Glee club mentor had actually been very understanding and had spoken with Principal Figgins on his behalf – and yet nothing had changed.
Each day came and each day so did the never ending torrent of abuse, from being pushed into lockers, to being punched in the kidneys, through slushie attacks and pee balloon raids in the parking lot it all came and went and never ended.
And each day nobody stepped in and made it stop a little part of Kurt died inside.
If there was one bright spot in everything, it was the lack of attention Kurt had been garnering from one of his most voracious tormentors – Puck.
Since coming back from Juvie – the half-back had been almost – decent towards the him. He'd even offered Kurt an apology for his prior actions – which Kurt had thrown back in his face. The brunette regretted his actions in hindsight, but in his defence he had just been thrown face first into his locker by Karofsky, so he was entitled to be a little angry.
Of course that didn't mean that he was entitled to take that anger out on Puck.
And yet he had.
Kurt had told Puck to stay away from him if he wanted to show that he was truly sorry. What had surprised Kurt was that Puck had done exactly that. It had been almost a week and a half and aside from a single interaction between them in Glee when Kurt had asked Puck to pass him the sheet music, Puck had kept his distance.
That wasn't to say Kurt wasn't aware of Puck's presence in his life though. One thing that being the target of school bullies drilled into you was the mantra of always keeping yourself aware of your surroundings.
And so that was why Kurt was instantly aware that Puck was watching him, but not interfering. It was almost comforting in a way – even though a part of Kurt wanted to scream at the jock for not stepping in and helping him.
But then Puck was only doing what Kurt had asked of him.
When Mr Schue had read out the list of competition for Sectionals, Kurt had been intrigued by the sound of Dalton Academy. And so, skipping his afternoon Chem class, Kurt had made the journey out to the Academy and had engaged in some not so subtle espionage.
What he'd found there had been more than he had ever imagined.
He'd found tolerance.
He'd found acceptance.
He'd found Blaine.
Blaine was unlike any other boy that Kurt had ever met – the one obvious difference being that he was openly gay – but aside from that Blaine was confident in his skin.
The ease with which he talked about things that Kurt himself had only dreamed of experiencing, a nurturing, challenging environment to learn in. A zero-tolerance policy towards bullying of any kind – those were the kinds of luxuries that Kurt, being in the public school system had been denied for so long.
Kurt had no illusions from the beginning about his friendship with Blaine and was well aware of the fact that from the outset, the other boy had designs on him romantically. But whilst that was certainly one facet of their emerging relationship, Blaine had also been there for Kurt to serve as a guide and as a mentor.
It was that side of their friendship that Kurt had come to rely on more, with their mutual romantic interest in each other being merely an extra benefit.
The pressure at McKinley was getting to be too great for Kurt and so he'd made a drastic decision to speak with his Dad. His Dad's eyes had filled with tears as Kurt had relayed his reasons for wanting to transfer and also at how happy his son was to have found someone like him that understood what he was going through. The tuition for Dalton Academy was steep of course, but they had worked out that if Kurt used the money in his College fund now, that they would be able to afford it.
Kurt felt it was worth every cent.
Having worked everything with the older man, the pair had journeyed up to the Academy and had filled in the required enrolment forms.
In just seven days time, Kurt Hummel would join The Dalton Academy.
Puck had decided that he'd pull Kurt aside after the Glee club meeting that afternoon and tell him everything. The jock would give Kurt the whole unvarnished truth and let him decide what he did or did not want to do with the information.
The jock could only pray that the choice Kurt made would be one he could live with.
Puck had arrived early for Glee – his nerves had gotten the better of him and he just couldn't sit in the lunch room and pretend that he wasn't the most nervous he'd ever been in his entire life.
So as each member of the Glee club trickled in in the minutes following the bell signalling the end of lunch, Puck was there to witness their entrance. He ignored the curious looks he got from the other gleeks for his unusually prompt appearance.
The one person Puck wanted to see however did not show. Not right away at least.
Mr Schue had just finished giving a twenty minute lecture about unity or something else equally as boring before bringing the class to a close – Puck had long since tuned him out so had no real idea what was being said – it was usually something along those lines though.
The door to the Choir Room had opened and Puck's breath had hitched as his eyes met Kurt's – Kurt looked happy.
As everyone had packed up their bags and left, Puck noted that Kurt had remained behind and was talking softly with Mr Schue by the piano.
Puck was a little confused when Mr Schue's face suddenly fell before he squeezed Kurt's shoulder and said something softly before leaving the room.
Puck cleared his throat softly noting that Kurt jumped like a skittish animal and it caused a pain in the jock's chest.
"Uh – can we talk?"
Kurt looked a little confused but nodded his assent and took up a seat opposite the jock.
The next fifteen minutes were spent with Puck trying to put into words what he'd come to realise – both about himself – and about his feelings for the brunette. To say that Kurt was shocked was an understatement.
"... and so – that's it – I think..."
Puck closed his mouth and waited for Kurt's response – he'd tried his best to explain everything – from Shaun to the revelation to the apology – everything.
"I- I don't know what to – really?", asked Kurt in shock as Puck nodded, "... it seems so unlikely."
Puck chuckled and was warmed slightly by the fact Kurt wasn't freaking out completely and also hadn't shot him down in flames immediately.
"It's true. I just – no pressure or anything but I wanted you to know."
Kurt nodded and swallowed thickly,
"Thank you for that – but there's something you should know too."
Puck didn't like the answer.
A/N: Wow – this has gone a long way off the reservation and gotten a Hell of a lot more complicated than I first envisaged. This was supposed to be boys club together to sing song – and then I got caught up trying to write the motivational back stories to the reason for the song choice!
I wrote this all in one sitting over the course of seven hours – it's now 5.30 in the morning and I started writing at 10pm. I'm not convinced that I know really where I'm going to take this story any longer. I think this is just some random bunny I have to get out of my system.
Musical credit is Campus by Vampire Weekend.
Sorry if it's complete crap. If it is, please feel free to tell me.
T-J-B