Puckmel/Hummerman? – The Trials and Tribulations of Becoming a Patchwork Family AKA Puckmel TaT

Thank you Mariekjepower, Kim and Serene80 for review and encouragement! Also everyone for the favs and alerts, I appreciate it. Unfortunately the frequency of updates depends on my annoying need to also earn a living, so daily or hourly updates aren't anywhere in the future ^_^

For those interested I've put a profile of the main players, where they come from emotionally and what I took and disregarded from canon for this tale on my profile page.

The outfit Kurt wears BTW is actually inspired by some of the less fortunate existing fashion designs of that year...

Chapter 6

The Date - Saturday Night's a Night For Fighting

Kurt's face hurt from all the - pretty obvious, probably - fake smiling he was engaging in. He was still winning the "most polite son"-award by miles though: Puck did an excellent impression of a thunder cloud made human. Kurt expected him to develop the ability to fling lightening any minute...

Puck was glowering nonstop, grunted when talked to and growled one word answers when pushed. The only non-hostile thing he did was inhaling insane amounts of food. At least he chewed with his mouth closed. Small favors... Why hadn't he taught this skill to Finn in their years of friendship? Then he could have said he'd done something useful with his life!

Kurt had to admit that he might have liked Deborah Puckerman quite a bit under other circumstances - if she hadn't stolen his dad from Carole and Finn from him (in a roundabout way). And if she hadn't spawned her oldest child she would have gotten extra bonus points. The other one, a nine year old girl that clearly came after Ms. Puckerman in looks rather than whoever Puck had gotten his unfairly spectacular DNA from, seemed much nicer. As far as his limited knowledge indicated; Kurt didn't have much experience with younger kids. Well, not that he had many close friends his own age either. And his main playmates as a child had been his parents and then his parent. The only serious flaw he had detected so far in the girl was that Sarah clearly worshipped her big brother. And she liked the color fuchsia a bit too much; but if he could forgive Mercedes for that he supposed it was acceptable in a nine year old.

He was still mourning that he had to binge that clever, rethoric masterpiece he had composed weeks ago for the event of Finn and Carole sitting here instead: about families combining and going on to greater things as a newly formed dynasty. It might have been slightly self-aggrandizing to compare themselves to the Kennedys and take all the credit for the merger, making it all about himself (though, really: it was!)... But it had been beautiful! Poignant! Something which would look good printed in his autobiography (he had written that part already, just in case).

While Kurt had zoned out his Dad had launched another charm offensive at Puck. Because the last four tries to engage him had worked sooo well. Apparently the latest effort involved- sports? Oh fantastic.

"Maybe we'll catch a game sometime, huh? I sell tires to a customer who's an assistant coach with the Browns; I'll ask him for some tickets."

"I support the Bengals," Puck made it sound like a declaration of war. Perhaps it was.

Kurt, as always, had only nebulous knowledge of anything athletic. Unless they planned to discuss figure skating for which he had a fondness as a spectator. Fit men contorting themselves and working up a sweat while wearing skin-tight outfits: what was not to love? He doubted the other men at the table shared his appreciation though. Well, he knew his dad didn't, and what were the chances of Puck adoring it? Perhaps if the women performed naked…

"Also, way to sabotage me, Mr. H!" Puck had ignored his dad's 'I'm Burt.' and glared - more - whenever he called him Noah. "If I accept a free ticket from a coach I can kiss my NCAA Eligibility goodbye before even getting into junior year."

Kurt had absolutely no clue what Puck was talking about. But his dad seemed to have an idea, because he looked remorseful and like he regretted his offer – and possibly his attempt at softening Puck up by name dropping. Kurt supposed the average jock would be more impressed than himself with mentions of NFL coaches. He did know who the Browns were though. Ha! Nobody needed to know that he would have had no idea whatsoever what kind of sport they played, until his vested interest in one Finn Hudson who supported them. Puck however was clearly immune to NFL name dropping. Or - just as likely - willing to cut his nose off to spite his face, or better, Kurt's dad.

"... Not all of us can afford college tuition and support our kid's right to look like a freakishly expensive one man bad taste party all through high school."

Alright, so Puck graduating from one word answers didn't really improve the atmosphere. Kurt should have suspected.

"Noah! That's uncalled for."

Puck snorted, "You do see what he's wearing, do'ya Ma? The silver things all over his jacket look like freaking drain pipes coming out of him! And that much overload of shrill zigzag pattern at once is probably illegal. Crime against humanity or something – we should call Den Haag. You really trying to defend that? Love must be blind…"

The little sister giggled, then hid her face while continuing to steal glances at Kurt's outfit. Which wasn't nearly as outlandish as Puck made it out to be, honestly. Even if his dad had winced and kind of looked like he wanted to agree. He had even tried to get Kurt to change before they left the house! Kurt had of course refused. Burt Hummel made jersey sweaters look like an exciting new step towards high fashion with his usual attire. What did he know?

Kurt lifted his chin, "Well, not all of us can be fashion-conscious, can we?"

His silver-black brocade dinner jacket was fabulous and the protruding silver accents on it looked in no way like drain pipes! Really. Though now he knew finally what the detailing had vaguely reminded him of... Anyway. Just because Puck was a Neanderthal who couldn't appreciate vintage Balmain, or Missoni and its legendary zigzag pattern on his long top and Wellington-inspired boots even if they bit him in the ass, didn't mean his outfit wasn't high fashion. It might be too adventurous for Lima or high school - or the whole Midwest - but that wasn't Kurt's problem.

Besides, now that he was in the Cheerios and finally had his shot at something vaguely resembling popularity his opportunities for fashion had dwindled: he was mostly in the uniform at school. There was no way he'd miss the chance at an outing like that to look fashionable!

"Well," Puck mimicked him, "at least if you ever go blind no one will notice your outfits suddenly getting weirder cause you can't see the patterns or colors anymore. Unless the guide-dog can't stop howling and refuses to let you leave the house you'll look the same as now..."

There was a desperate noise from Sarah's place. The little girl had snorted her soft drink through her nose when she started laughing, spraying half the table. Only the table. At least now Kurt had an excuse to stop eating his subpar, surely non-organic meal with the dish having been sprayed. He needed to lose weight for the Cheerios anyway. Sadly Puck as the one human - for a given value of humanity - directly in the line of fire or drink had somehow avoided the shower. Damn.

Ms. Puckerman looked apologetically and slightly amused at the Hummels, stood up and held out her hand to the girl who ineffectively wiped at her sprayed sweater while still leaking carbonated beverage out of her nose.

"Come on Sarah, let's go clean you up."

The other boy watched his mother and sister leave for the restroom. Kurt was momentarily struck by the fondness on his face, it seemed very unlike Puck... It was weird to see him care so obviously about his family. Kurt didn't like it. As soon as Puck turned back though – towards the Hummels – any trace of fondness or goodwill had vanished from his features. That was better.

His dad, with admirable stubbornness, started a new line of communication, "So, I was won-"

Puck cut his dad off, "You know, the lawn furniture on your roof? I was behind that one."

Puck gave his dad a blinding smile, showing off all his teeth. Kurt was reminded of a great white shark. They could cast him in bronze and add him to Carmel High's absurd school statue. He'd fit right in, with a dying seal pup between his toothpaste-ad teeth...

"What the- you little punk! Why would you do that?"

"Felt like it. Also, your son is a spiteful spoiled little snot so it needed to be done. What with your epic romance with my ma I thought you should know: spirit of full disclosure and shit."

Kurt couldn't quite pretend to himself Puck's casual judgment didn't hurt. Stupid of course, what did he even have in common with Puck other than Glee? And dating parents, sadly. So what was the boy saying: it had been Kurt's own fault, he had brought that on himself? Typical victim-blaming. Why had he ever thought Puck had grown beyond that?

His dad stared at Puck, clearly trying not to lunge over the table. Kurt wondered if he should remind him of his blood pressure? He refrained: it would upset his dad even more. Besides, Puck didn't need more ammunition.

Puck sprawled even more in his seat and beamed. The ruthless part of Kurt admired the other boy's calm composure: his father could be really scary when angry. The loving son-part wanted to see Puck eaten by a great white shark for antagonizing his dad when he'd clearly tried hard to engage the jock. The other son-part, the one who wanted his dad to himself or Finn and Carole on the other side of the table, wondered if Puck could actually be successful with his strategy and crossed his fingers under the table in silent support.

"And you tell me now, on our first meeting to get to know each other's families... What? You think I'll just give up on Deborah now? Go back with my tail between my legs because her oldest kid is a bully? Because he doesn't like me?"

"Sure. That works for me." Puck smiled again, the picture of easy charm - as long as you ignored his eyes glittering with malice. "Don't think you're quite that easy though Mr. H, eh? But who knows? Or maybe you're just that desperate. Going after my mom, after- what? eight years? of not getting any?"

Kurt gasped. His dad was rhythmically clenching and unclenching his fists under the table, Kurt could see them trembling. When he spoke he sounded surprisingly calm though.

"You think someone wanting to be with your mom has to be desperate? Hmm. That's an interesting opinion from a supposedly loving son. A son helping out around the house, helping her raise his little sister, babysitting..."

Suddenly Puck looked furious. "You know nothing about me and my mom, asshole! Nothing 'bout my family! You're not the first douche bag going after my mom or sister. None of them are in the picture now. You'll be history soon enough too. And if not I'll make you."

Kurt was suddenly reminded of freshman!Puck's face when he'd destroyed that hockey guy and grabbed his dad's arm. He wasn't sure whether for protection or to protect. Clearly his father had finally landed a hit too. Kurt wasn't really sure what exactly had Puck so livid. His dad probably didn't know either. He could feel his father's tightly clenched muscles; he seemed as unnerved as Kurt by the focused menace rolling in waves of off Puck.

"I really hope we're not at death threats yet, son."

"Don't call me that! You're not my father, or my rabbi. And you'll know when I'm making death threats. But if you lay one hand on my ma - or Sarah - there won't be any threats or warnings."

Holy crap. That was pretty much a death threat. In his admittedly limited experience. At least a threat of bodily harm...

Was Puck insane? That was way beyond teenage strategies for running the new partner off!

Did he mean it?

If someone told him about this, he'd scoff, calling macho posturing. But having just seen it... he wasn't so sure. Or rather: he was. Unsettlingly so. Hockey guy bleeding on the floor flashed through his mind.

Puck had gotten taller and much more muscular since then. Physically he was by far the most mature boy in their year: he'd seen him being mistaken for a student teacher, absurd as the image of Puckerman as an educator was. What kind of damage could he inflict now? When he'd collected himself after his locker room briefing and the other boy had stormed off Kurt had realized that Puck hadn't really done anything to him other than manhandling him and being scarily quick about it. He hadn't really tried to hurt him. Kurt's dad was two inches smaller than the jock and while stocky and solidly built, not exactly into doing sports for several years now (rather than watching which he was very much into, unfortunately) and certainly not into martial arts or boxing. Puck had been doing some kind for years if Kurt remembered correctly from overheard conversations the guy had had with Matt and Mike. Well, Mike; Matt hadn't ever done much talking in Kurt's vicinity; or anywhere reportedly. And there was Puck's rumored involvement in some kind of underground fighting ring... It didn't sound good at all. It sounded rather terrible, to be honest.

Kurt was pulled out of his worried musings by Ms. Puckerman and Sarah returning. They interrupted his dad's and Puck's glaring match and Puck switched gears unsettlingly fast, grinning at his little sister.

"Hey squirt, how's your nose?"

The girl wrinkled said nose. "Weird. Having drinking stuff up there hurts!"

"Duh, I could have told you that. Then you wouldn't have to try yourself, sprog."

"You made me, Noah! It's your fault for saying funny things when I'm drinking. Mom, can I have ice cream for dessert?"

"Sure sweetie. Anyone else?"

His dad and Puck wanted some too. Puck had gone back to stony silence and only interacted with his sister, keeping up some surprisingly good-natured banter with her. He ignored everyone else. The adults carried the conversation alone and were rapidly verging on being ridiculously mushy, even with the occasional gagging sound or disgusted snort (Puck), pained sigh (Kurt) and giggling (Sarah) from their embarrassed and mildly to extremely disapproving offspring.

Finally though it was time to leave and end the ordeal. Dad settled the bill, assured Deborah she could pay at their next collective outing which prompted a not exactly quiet "Not gonna happen!" from Puck and then they were on their way out of the restaurant.

"Son, go on already. I need to talk to Debbie for a moment."

"About her son threatening to destroy you? Yeah, good idea. Don't touch her in any way while Puck's watching for god's sake! I really don't want to be an orphan during the rest of my high school career. Or having to tell Glee club that we're a member short for Regionals because Puckerman's in prison for murdering my dad."

"At least you're still joking." His father ruffled his hair, despite knowing how much Kurt hated that. "See you later."

Kurt watched his father approach "Debbie" who sent a sullen Puck onwards to her car with his sister. He climbed into the Navigator and put on some therapeutic Lady Gaga, closing his eyes and wailing along. From the Puckerman's Volvo on the other side angry hard rock blasted over the parking lot. Something about Russian hookers, Western European journalists and not giving attitude or having attitude or something and drinking? Seemed Puck had a similar coping strategy for the evening, if less taste. Kurt upped the volume and closed the window, immersing himself fully in his own choice of sound until his dad would come and force him to change volume and music.

At least it was over. Even if they stayed together, despite their children obviously being not in favor of the relationship or each other. The adults couldn't be stupid enough to try this again with both families. Maybe they'd keep their relationship between themselves in the future. That would be something at least...

A/N: An explanation for the non-US-Americans among us (like me, actually): when Puck refers to Burt screwing up his chances for a college scholarship he refers to an athletic one. It's a pretty much unique US-system: athletic scholarships for higher academic institutions (who actually earn money and even have TV stations for the more popular college teams in cases. Some sports like American football also use college teams to recruit pro-players since they don't have league systems from amateur to pro to premier through which players can graduate to the highest one. They also can't contract players right after high school: so people who hope for a professional sports career want to go to and play in college despite being completely disinterested in - or unequipped for - getting a degree). They typically also allow for much lower grades than regular admission to the college. Hence why canonically dumb and academically lazy Finn deluded himself into thinking he could get via football into Ohio State University, one of the best state universities with rather high entrance requirements. And incidentally one of the biggest, most successful football programs: making the selection of a mediocre quarterback with a record for most sacks even from their home state very unlikely for the limited scholarships...

For students from a financially disadvantaged background or with mediocre grades an athletic scholarship might be the only chance to go to college. They are handled by the NCAA for the colleges and require a very strict amateur status that is monitored with much paperwork. A free hamburger or game ticket by a coach or recruiter years before graduating can mean you won't be eligible much later, if it comes out. NCAA Eligibility is an important thing to maintain for anyone hoping to get an athletic scholarship. Puck here is both sincere in his worry if very cautious and rude: implying Burt would deliberately ruin his chances by engineering something that will make Puck non-eligible. Kurt of course has no idea how it works or what it even is that's talked about, since he has zero interest in sports or athletic scholarships. If this were junior or the start of senior year and he'd still be crushing on Finn he might learn about it by virtue of being extremely interested in Finn's business and plans.

Next up: the aftermath, or possibly round two