Kurt, standing behind the liquor store (sadly without any liquor), finished one smoke and dug around in his jacket pocket for another. Finally braking the silence of almost ten minutes, Quinn raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "Noah Puckerman?"
"What?" Kurt scoffed, scratching the back of his leg with the opposite boot.
"He's a jock," she said scornfully and Kurt wondered if she really was as happy about being kicked off the Cheerios during freshman year as she always said she was.
"He plays football," Kurt agreed, "but he's actually pretty cool."
Quinn scoffed. "Of course you'd say that. You're sleeping with him, after all."
Kurt didn't want to correct Quinn and tell her that he'd fooled around with Puck a few times but they hadn't slept together yet. She'd just call him a naive child or something. He was just waiting for it to feel right - and to have some time alone with Puck somewhere other than under the bleachers or in the back of his car.
"What's your fucking problem with him, Q?"
Shaking her head, she said, "You wouldn't get it. You don't see what an asshole he can be," and walked away.
Kurt watched her go and figured maybe he'd have to ask Puck about what she meant the next time they hung out. It wasn't like he was going to stop seeing Puck just because Quinn had a problem with him. In fact, he little warning made Kurt all the more eager to see Puck again. Maybe Kurt would sneak him in after the next time his Aunt Mildred drank herself to sleep.
He rubbed his chest a little, grinning at the ache in his freshly pierced nipple and decided sneaking Puck in absolutely hadto happen.