Title: You Could Save me
Author: Fatebegins (http:// fatebegins .livejournal .com/)
Rating: NC-17 / M
Pairing: Puck/Kurt (Purt/Puckurt).
Summary: Puck is a bodyguard who takes on a privileged client. Sparks of all kinds fly.
Disclaimer: No Glee don't belong to me or to fatebegins, this history is not mine! But I have permission to post it here! (The original post: http:// fatebegins .livejournal .com/15730 .html )
Warning: AU, violence, angst
Review? Please? *puppy eyes*
*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*
The cold war had nothing on Kurt Hummel's cold shoulder.
During his time in the military Puck had encountered some of the toughest and coldest sons of bitches he'd ever met. His drill Sergeant, Sgt. Dillon would make Puck run drills until he vomited and passed out. Puck would come to, his clothes a mess, and his Sgt would be standing over him a rag in one hand and a bucket of water in the other. After he had properly "wiped himself off' Dillon made him run the drills over again until he completed them, ignoring his distress and existence . That summer, his first in the army, Puck had grown from being a scared seventeen year old boy into a man, through the iciest treatment manageable.
Puck would actually rather deal with Sgt. Dillon than Kurt right now. The younger man hadn't spoken to him for the past three weeks and now spent most of his free time in his bedroom after classes were over. When he did go out he no longer frequented public venues which meant that Dallas or Chad could accompany him. It didn't help that Puck caught Dallas and Kurt laughing by the indoor pool on more than one occasion, Kurt scantily clad in only swimming briefs. Chad also wasted no time in commencing daily story hours where he regaled the entire team with recounts of his 'awesome adventures' with the 'amazing' Kurt. Katie was the number one fan of that telecast, always listening avidly with her eyes bright and interested.
It was what Puck had wanted, some space to regroup his defenses, but he was suffering under Kurt's neglect. He'd gotten too used to his smiles and to the gently spoken words as Kurt filled him in on his daily activities.
Puck hit the punching bag with a series of vicious right hooks, ramming his fists and the flat of his palms continually against the smooth exterior. The heavy bag, meant to remain stationary, staggered back in a series of stiff inches, pushed by Puck's frustrated blows.
"Hope you're not imagining my face." Mike walked into the room, his brow raised in inquiry." You were supposed to walk the perimeters fifteen minutes ago."
Shit. Puck stopped, gasping for breath, his lungs on fire. "I lost track of time." He'd been working out for more than two hours, so caught up in getting out his frustrations that he slipped off schedule. He'd never done that in his life. In the army staying on schedule, performing task A at X hour, meant staying alive. Puck had carried that discipline back with him into civilian life.
"Unacceptable." Mike said, sitting on one of the empty machines opposite Puck. "As your co worker I'm pretty fucking pissed but as your friend, bro-" He looked up at Puck, his eyes taking in his sweat stained clothes and battered fists when Puck removed his gloves. His hands were shaking in exertion, spots of blood welling up to the surface. "What the fuck?"
"It's nothing." Puck toweled sweat off his brow. "I'll go do it now."
"Already being done by Mayhem." Mike said.
"Great, then I'll get a quick shower in."
"Puck, come on." Mike stopped him. "This isn't you. Whatever is going on just say it; I understand if you're just upset about Aidan but I swear to you, we'll get him back."
"It's not that!" Puck admitted. "It's this assignment."
"The assignment?" Mike was confused.
"Kurt Hummel specifically."
"The kid?" His look of confusion worsened. "Is he giving you a hard time or something? Being snobby around his rich friends with you?"
Puck had to smile at Mike's obliviousness. It seemed like everybody else in the house could just look between him and Kurt and know, but his friend was clueless. "Nah…nothing like that."
"Than what else is there?"
"The Hamptons party, at the Monahan house? I hooked up with him there."
Mike was silent for a moment, his expression carefully blank. "No shit."
"Yeah," Puck sat back down. If there was anyone he could talk about this with it was Mike. There was something about war that made men into brothers. "I saw him the first night I came back here with the contracts."
"His Dad know?"
"Hell, no," Puck shook his head. "I think he'd have me killed if he did and there'd be no way we'd keep our jobs."
"You fuck him?"
"No."
"So then what's the issue Puck? What's got you so tied up in knots?"
"I want to."
"Puck," Mike regarded him seriously, his eyes shadowed. "I know that this isn't real, that our asses aren't on the line but…we need this job. You need this money."
"I know that." He felt tired, defeated.
"But I also know that you're a good man." Mike stood, patting Puck on his shoulder as he headed for the door. "Whatever you do, I'm behind you one hundred percent."
"Who cares about this guy anyway?" Quinn patted Kurt's arm daintily. "He's just your body guard and it's not like you want to fraternize with the hired help anyway."
"Way to be a bitch, Quinn." Artie stopped typing for a few moments on his macbook.
"I'm just being honest." She shrugged, picking at her avocado salad. "Your Dad would flip out if he even knew about your bathroom escapades."
Kurt flushed. "Believe me, my Dad will never find out about that." He gave her a pointed glare and Artie laughed. "Ever."
"No worries." Quinn assured Kurt. "I won't say a word. My lips," She made a zipping motion. "Are sealed."
"They better be." Kurt warned. "Or I'll staple them shut!"
"The same can't be said for Tripp. I overheard him bragging about his conquest at Kellerman's . He was going on and on, you would think he sucked the president's dick." Artie grimaced. "The guy has no class. I don't know what anyone would ever see in him."
"He's gorgeous." Quinn commented, carefully selecting a miniature sandwich after buffing her manicured nails against the tablecloth.
Kurt made a face. "Thank you for saying that, Quinn, that makes me feel so much better."
"I'm sorry! But you know it's true. Tripp looks like he stepped off a Ralph Lauren billboard." Her gaze turned dreamy and she spun the layered sandwich display around idly. "Only he can wear pink and turquoise and still look heavenly."
Kurt gestured to his own pink and green argyle sweater vest, offended. "Hello!"
"You can totally rock it too, dear." Quinn remedied sweetly.
"The guy is a douche." Artie said. "Whenever we see each other he pats my head and calls me Kyle!"
"Your name is kind of complicated." Quinn reasoned.
"He's my freaking cousin!"
"Despite his flaws, Puck obviously likes him so this conversation is pointless." Kurt took a sip of his mint tea, feeling miserable. "If that's the kind of guy he goes for then it's no wonder he wants nothing to do with me."
"Don't be stupid. Tripp - no, Tristan Vanderbilt - is a grade A asshole and he's also a skank. If your bodyguard wants to chase that, then they deserve each other." Artie didn't like seeing his best friend so down. Kurt always seemed to be unhappy now, ever since that bodyguard had come into the picture. "And it's his loss if you ask me."
"I know that you think Noah is a bad guy but you don't see him the way that I do." Kurt held up a hand when Artie tried to break in. "When he's with his friends he's like a completely different person. He laughs and talks and he has the most amazing stories. He's a sci-fi addict and he actually watched The Box and liked it." Kurt looked down at his lap, remembering. "There are times when he's that person, but it only last for a moment and then he realizes he's actually speaking to me and not yelling he immediately switches back into an asshole." Artie rolled his eyes. "Noah is really kind and warm and funny." He insisted.
"Just not to you," Artie retorted. "I bet my beloved cousin sees that side all the time and the guy is an asshole."
"But he's richer than god." Quinn piped in. "That's enough for anybody."
Artie ignored Quinn, keeping his eyes on Kurt. "I know you really like the idea of this guy but I think you should back off. From what you told me, he's done nothing but be cruel to you. The only time he's not being an ass is when he conveniently has his hands down your pants. That sort of stuff may mean something to you but this Puck guy? That comes a dime a dozen for him."
"Right." Kurt whispered, pale.
"Oh shit." Artie's face turned apologetic. "Kurt, I didn't meant to hurt you-"
"No, it's okay. I know you're right. That's why I've been avoiding him for the past weeks." Kurt agreed dismally. "It's just harder to hear it said out loud."
The phone rang and Artie looked at Quinn expectantly, it was after all her house. The blond continued to munch on her cucumber sandwich so he picked up the phone. Kurt watched as his friend's cheeks went a dull red. Artie covered the mouthpiece of the phone after a moment.
"Quinn? There's a guy on the phone, Travis Morgan, says he's from Chase Bank." Arte wiped his palms on his jeans, something he only ever did when he was uncomfortable.
"So?" Quinn frowned. "Rosa's supposed to pick up the phone anyway but since you're in a hurry to play housekeeper, take a message."
Artie turned redder. "He…he says it's about a delinquent loans, several of them…" Quinn dropped her sandwich, mouth pressing into a thin line. "He refuses to leave a message. He's talking about turning the bills over to creditors."
"Okay." Quinn stood up shakily, brushing invisible crumbs of her tweed skirt. She waked over to Artie and took the phone from him, only to promptly hang it up.
"What'd you do that for?" Kurt asked dumbfounded.
"Are you crazy?" Artie looked at her incredulously. "You don't just hang up on people like that!"
"It's obviously a crank call." Quinn told them icily. "We have no trouble paying our bills and we certainly do not have creditors calling the house."
The phone rang again. The shrill calls blaring through the silent room as the three of them all sat looking at each other. Quinn looked at Kurt. "How about we go over to your place?" She said, her voice brittle with fake cheerfulness.
Kurt's heart ached for her. He had had no idea that the Fabrays were having financial troubles. "Quinn-"
"Is that okay? Quinn cut him off, her blue green gaze focused solely on Dallas. The bodyguard had been standing quietly against the wall through out the entire exchange. His expression remained stoic. "Dallas?"
Dallas looked at Kurt , his hazel eyes seeking permission and Kurt nodded. "I'll give Don a call."
*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*
Kurt didn't bother opening his eyes when he heard the sound of the car door opening. It had been a long weekend, culminating in the surreal situation at the Fabray home. Kurt got the feeling that Quinn was hiding something and that her family was in financial trouble. The seat dipped as Dallas took his usual spot next to him. Dallas wasn't one for early morning chatter, well, any kind of chatter, really. Not like Kurt was in the mood for speaking anyway. He was still reeling from the disastrous Halloween night even though it had happened weeks ago. The conversation with Artie had brought it all back to the surface.
After Puck had left him in the bathroom, Kurt had stayed in the empty room for several long moments and tried to collect himself. The last thing he had wanted was to come out and face Puck with a tear stained face. So Kurt had carefully fixed his hair and wiped his eyes; he shouldn't have bothered. When he had exited the room he'd found Puck directly outside of the door - but he wasn't alone.
Tripp Vanderbilt, dressed as Tom Cruise from 'Risky Business' in an open collared white shirt and skimpy briefs, was plastered to his side, giggling and writing across Puck's palm with a sharpie. Kurt didn't have to see the numbers to know what they were. Puck was getting Tripp's phone number, so he could properly 'blow off steam'.
Kurt's heart had clenched. Why wasn't he good enough? The ride home that night had been silent. Kurt squeezed into a corner by the door and Puck occupying the opposite end of the car, his expression stony. Almost an hour later, from his living room window, Kurt had watched Puck on the phone. He had seen the older man smile and laugh before hopping into his car and peeling out of the driveway, no doubt on his way to visit Tripp.
Kurt had never felt so humiliated, so hurt in his life. Kurt had given into his hormones and even though the hand job had been awesome-he was 18 and hormonal, alright- Kurt had felt empty afterwards. He'd hoped that the physical connection would have led to more and while his feelings ran deeper, Puck was still the same asshole he always was. Kurt had decided then and there, while Chad had watched him with awkward pitying eyes, that it was time to put Noah Puckerman behind him for good.
"Good morning." Kurt sighed. Just because Dallas wasn't talkative didn't mean that Kurt forgot his manners.
"So you do remember how to speak to me?"
Kurt's eyes flew open. Noah Puckerman was sprawled across the car seat, smirk firmly in place as he looked at Kurt.
"Where's Dallas?"
"He's on ground duty today."
"I specifically asked for him." Kurt crossed his arms petulantly.
"Well, you can't always get what you want."
Kurt didn't answer, opting instead to close his eyes. He was too tired for another round with Noah Puckerman. His ego had taken enough hits.
"Listen," Puck began. "I think I've gotten the message, so if you could slow the cold front down a bit it'll be much better for the team."
"For the team?" Kurt snorted. "Right, I don't want to be around you." He cracked open an eye. "I thought you'd be happy with that."
"I'm happy when I can do my job." Puck stressed. He couldn't bring himself to admit the truth, his practiced speech about maintaining amicability between them dissolved.
"Or when you're with a random fuck."
"Is this about Tom?" Puck sighed. "I told you-"
"His name is Tripp." Kurt snapped. "And it's not about him! I just…I want to know, I think I deserve to know that, since you and I, w-we…" Kurt gathered up his courage. "The night of Finn's party, did you and him…?"
"Did we what?' Puck knew what Kurt was getting at but feigned confusion. He had hoped to avoid this conversation.
"When you left later on, after, where did you go?"
"Kurt." Puck suddenly didn't want to say it.
"Just tell me" Kurt insisted quietly.
"You know the answer."
Kurt shut his eyes. He had known but hearing it still sent shards of hurt through him; made him ache.
"Kurt-"Puck began. He saw the shift in the younger man's expression.
"Why can't I be enough?" The words were out before he could stop them.
"We're not in a relationship, Kurt. I'm free to do what I want with whom ever I want… If I ever did fuck you, it would be no different." Puck sought his eyes. "In the past month, I've learned a lot about you, if things were different maybe…" Puck was surprised to hear his own voice playing back, his own words. Words he had vowed never to say. "But they're not. You're you and I'm me."
'I know that!" Kurt cried, frustrated. 'Don't you think I know how crazy I sound? I barely know you but when I'm around you, the real you, I feel like I've known you my whole life." Puck was silent, he honestly had no idea how to respond to Kurt's admission. "I hate that you slept with him. That he knows you in a way you'll never let me know you."
"Shit, Kurt!" Puck's voice sliced through him. "Stop talking like this."
"I'm not like you, okay? I can't just roll with the punches, when you say things…and do things...I feel it. I think it's just better for everyone if we stay away from each other.
"Why do you care about what I say about you?"
Kurt was silent. Mutinous.
"Kurt?"
"I don't…I don't know."
"You've got to move on, alright?" Puck didn't push. "And when you do… I think we could be friends."
"Thought you had enough friends?" Kurt asked sarcastically and Puck grinned.
"It that a yes?"
"Fine," Kurt whispered. He'd agreed to give up anyway. He had two and a half more months with Puck and as much as Kurt hated to admit it, the other man was right, they couldn't go on with things the way they were.
"Here's the thing. I can be an asshole sometimes." Kurt gave him an incredulous look. "Okay, most of the time." Puck conceded. "But I'll try and be easier on you."
"Okay." Kurt nodded, biting his lip. Puck followed the action involuntarily. Why did he find everything the kid did so fucking sexy?
They looked at each other warily.
Puck broke the silence. "So how's Bennett doing? I think I actually miss her lectures." He quirked his lips up into a small smile. "Every time I get a headache I think of her."
Kurt rewarded his efforts with a tiny laugh and Puck's heart swelled in his chest.
*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*
"Hold up." Puck grabbed Kurt's arm. "Where are you going? We've got to be at the car in five minutes." They had been shopping all morning and Puck would go crazy if he had to sit still through another round of Kurt trying on a myriad number of expensive outfits. It wasn't so much the clothes aspect as it was the fact the Puck had been half hard all morning after Kurt had tried on tiny denim cut-offs.
"I have to use the restroom." Kurt explained. "There's one up ahead." Kurt pointed towards the end of hall. "I'll be really fast, I swear."
"Fine." Puck conceded, walking behind him.
Kurt stopped when he reached the door, glaring at Puck when he tried to follow him inside. "I can go to the bathroom by myself."
"I'm supposed to watch you at all times." Puck spoke slowly as if he was talking to a very small child.
"No. Way." Kurt said annoyance flaring within him. He didn't exactly need to use the bathroom as much as he needed to check his hair and touch up his lip gloss and mascara. Yeah he used mascara, so what? It really brought out his eyes and he had noticed, in the couple of weeks since their makeshift truce, that Puck really liked his eyes. The older man was always staring at them. Puck would tease him if he knew or worse accuse him of trying to manipulate him again. Kurt accepted that Puck didn't want to be with him, he really did, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to make sure Puck knew what he was missing. "I refuse to be subjected to that kind of humiliation."
"It's not like I haven't seen your dic-"
"Noah!" Kurt squeaked, outraged. He was one step away from stamping his foot.
"Fine, fine," Puck moved over to the side of the door, waving Kurt in. "But I'll be right out here if you need me."
"Yeah, sure; I'll holler if I fall into the toilet." Kurt rolled his eyes. "You can come in and save me from drowning."
"Such a comedian." Puck smiled despite himself. Katie and Chad were right about one thing; Kurt had a wicked sense of humor.
*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*
Kurt walked into the bathroom and hurriedly placed his bag on the window ledge. He'd have to be quick before Puck barreled on in. It was only a matter of time he thought with a smile, his bodyguard tended to get fidgety when left alone too long.
Halfway through carefully applying his lip gloss Kurt got the odd sensation that he was being watched. His skin crawled under the invisible gaze. Kurt turned around swiftly and looked over the empty room; there was no one there. His gaze landed on the six stall doors, four doors were open, the last two closed. His trepidation worsened.
Kurt took half a step back, involuntarily, as he was hit with a sense of foreboding. In all the time that passed between Puck arriving and now, he'd gotten so caught up in his love/hate drama that he'd forgotten the reason Puck was hired in the first place. There were people after him, people who wanted to hurt him. Kurt knew he had to get out of there and fast.
Kurt shoved the lip gloss into his pocket and walked hurriedly towards the door. He passed the first closed stall and released a relieved breath, he was just being silly. Kurt passed the second stall and he slowed his steps down to his normal pace, laughing sheepishly at his own paranoia. Kurt's hand was hovering above the door knob before he realized that he'd forgotten his bag on the window ledge.
Kurt looked back over his shoulder across the large, empty room, torn. The distance that was now stretched out before him seemed like miles. He didn't want to go back into the bathroom, he still felt uneasy but there was no way in hell he was going outside to tell Puck to get it. Kurt would look like a fool in front of him, like the helpless rich, brat Puck often accused him of being. Kurt squared his shoulders determinedly and with one last glance at the exit, turned back into the room. He had just reached the bag when he heard the first click of a lock being slid out of place. Kurt turned around, his eyes widening as the first now unlocked stall opened slowly. A burly man stepped out. His broad shoulders blocked the exit door as the last locked stall opened, a slightly smaller, bald man emerged. A scar covered half of his face, stretching from his ear and slashing down to his mouth. When the scarred man smiled, his lips distorted, twisting into the eerie grin of a jack o lantern.
"We've heard about you." The man with the scar spoke first his voice was soft, lisping. "We're going to see a lot of green when we bring you in."
Kurt tried to scream but let out a choked croak instead.
"I think I should tell you right now, you scream and we'll cut your pretty little face into ribbons." The burly man's hoarse voice sent shockwaves of pure terror through Kurt. "There's no reason why we can't inspect the goods or have a little playtime before we hand you over."
"Please…" His voice shook with fear. These men were huge, bigger than anyone he'd ever seen. How had he missed them when he'd entered?
"Good idea, Lyle." The scarred man pulled out a blade that had been strapped to his ankle. "What do you think, Kurt? You feel like playing nice or are we going to have to convince you?" The blade gleamed under the fluorescent lights.
"Wanna have some fun, pretty boy?" Kurt looked at the shorter man, terrified when he threw a large black object his way. It hit his legs with a thud. Kurt looked at the heavy material, afraid.
"Step into it now." Lyle commanded. "All nice like and we'll get out of here and no one gets hurt."
It was a harness. Kurt immediately looked up and felt a wave of nausea run through him. On the ceiling of the bathroom, two of the tiles had been carefully pushed aside, leaving a small gaping hole, large enough for the men to lower themselves in through.
Kurt looked toward the door, measuring the distance, wondering if he could run-
"You're not going anywhere."
Kurt's mouth went dry, fear paralyzing him. He flattened himself back against the sill, his mind not registering the pain of the wood digging into the sensitive skin at his back. They advanced on him, smiling.
*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*
Puck drummed his fingers against the wall impatiently. Kurt was either trying to piss him off or trying to lure him into the bathroom. The second option didn't make much sense considering Kurt had been adamant about wanting to go in alone.
He pushed off the wall, either way he was tired of sitting outside and twiddling his thumbs. Puck paused right before he opened the door, his hand lightly touching the smooth metal. It was the quiet that alerted him.
As clichéd as it was, there was too much that could happen in silence. Puck felt every muscle in his body tighten. He had survived by going on less. Puck looked around, his gaze falling on the gilded Dior shopping bag. He ripped it open and unscrewed the bottle cap off the scented lotion Kurt had bought. The door had squeaked when Kurt had entered before. He poured the white crème over the hinges, rubbing horizontally down the rusted bolts. Puck applied a small amount of pressure and the door crept forward soundlessly.
Puck was hit with a bolt of pure rage. He could see Kurt at the far end of the room, his eyes luminous with fear, barely visible past the bulky bodies of two men. One of the men was gripping Kurt's arm, painfully, if the pinched look on Kurt's face was anything to go by. Puck felt a twist of pride when Kurt landed a sharp blow to the man's face. He was glad that Kurt wasn't a wilting flower even though he was easily subdued afterwards and he got his arm twisted back viciously.
At Kurt's cry of pain, Puck called open every once of self control he had to stop himself from charging over there. He knew he had to take time to assess the situation and to see every angle and know how many he was up against. He gave himself a window of five seconds. Puck's jaw clenched when he saw their point of entry, the fucking ceiling. That told Puck several things, their guns, if they came in with any would be strapped to their underarms or backs, the front and feet were too risky. Knives would be a better option, and Puck could dismantle them quickly, especially when they'd be coming from ankle, wrist or thigh straps. Shorter guy was left handed, it would be easier to come up from the middle.
He could feel the moment Kurt spotted him. Saw his blue eyes fill with relief. Fortunately, the two dumb assess weren't watching his face.
"Why can't we just fuck him now?" Shorter guy was saying.
"Not enough time, the bodyguard will get suspicious." The other snapped. "Scale back up, he's harnessed."
Puck was done waiting. "Here's what's going to happen. First, you're going to get your filthy fucking hands off of him and second I'm going to fucking rip you to pieces."
The men froze simultaneously and Puck could see them warring with themselves about turning around. The burly one decided to face him first. As soon as he spotted the slight movement, Puck sent his booted foot crashing into the short guy's ankle, dodging the taller one's fist and not taking time to gloat in the sounds of the bone breaking. With the two moving apart Puck shoved Kurt back hard, sending him flying back and away from the fight; freeing him from his attackers grip as well.
Puck lunged at the tall one's middle, slamming him back against the wall and punching him in his esophagus, pressing the heel of his palm across his windpipe. He gasped for air and Puck kicked his feet out from under him, waiting until he staggered, his knee bent, before bringing his steel heel down across the kneecaps, white bone broke through the surface of his skin, blood leaking out red and vivid across the white floor. The man let out a scream of anguish, grabbing his leg in disbelief. Puck found and unstrapped his knives in seconds and held the bleeding mans palms down against the drywall.
Puck could see the instant the man figured out what was awaiting him. He began shaking his head, half formed pleas whispering across his lips. Puck smiled at him, then plunged the knife down, tearing through the skin of his palms,bypassing the bone, not stopping until the tip of the steel was embedded in the sheetrock. He repeated the action swiftly for the other hand, the man had passed out cold. The entire fight was over in less than a minute. Puck didn't spare him a second glance. He'd watched the shorter man go for his other ankle and knew he had a knife. It didn't matter.
"C'mon fucker," Puck taunted both hands out, beckoning him forward. "Let's see how well you fight one legged." The shorter man stared at him, his panicked gaze touching on his crucified friend, eyes wild and grip slippery on his knife. Puck could feel the adrenaline coursing through him. All he could see, all he kept seeing was Kurt in pain, at the mercy of this piece of shit.
"Fuck you." The man lunged forward crookedly, his injury greatly hindering his movements. It wasn't even a contest. Puck sidestepped his frenzied swipes, swooping low to land a punch into his diaphragm. The man staggered back, doubling over and Puck brought his knee up, shattering his nose with the force of his blow. The minute the man was down, Puck was on top of him. His fist flying, landing blows left and right.
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Puck came back to himself, Kurt's cries breaking through his murderous haze. The man below him was spitting up blood, thick and viscous . His eyes were already swollen shut and his jaw misshapen.
Kurt looked at his bloodied knuckles, the splattering of mucus and fluid. "Just stop." He whispered.
Puck stopped.
*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*
When Puck had finally left the bathroom, leaving the police to clean up the mess and question the two men, he found Kurt waiting in the backseat of the car. Puck's heart twisted. Kurt sat in his seat, looking small and stunned amidst the scattered shopping bags littering the limo floor.
"Are you okay?" Puck asked worriedly, his palms coming up to cradle Kurt's face. "Did they hurt you? Are you hurt-"
"I'm fine." Kurt gave a tremulous smile. "I'm okay, Noah." He leant into the older man's touch, relief making him weak. "They mostly just said stuff." He shuddered. "I was so scared…I t-thought that..." He was unable to continue.
"Hey." Puck pulled him against his chest. "It's okay." He kept up the soothing litany until Kurt stopped shaking. He realized after a couple of minutes, that Kurt had fallen asleep. It wasn't uncommon for victims to give in to the oblivion of sleep after a trauma .
Puck's face was grim. The two men had known to enter from the ceiling, had been prepared. They had known Kurt's name and had spoken of a pay off. That meant they had known before hand that Kurt was going to spend the morning at the shopping center. Puck shuddered, furious with himself for letting Kurt get accosted by those two bastards. Kurt stirred against his chest, yawning before settling back down and Puck unconsciously tightened his arms around him. Puck could feel every individual rise and fall of Kurt's chest as he slept. Kurt looked so young and innocent, a shock of dark hair falling across his face. So incredibly beautiful and he'd almost lost him.
Puck decided two things in that moment of realization. He realized he was done shoving Kurt away. He still didn't want to pursue anything, but that didn't mean he could continue being an asshole just to protect himself.
The second thing Puck decided, as the car drove them back to the Hummel's residence, was that he would kill anyone who tried to hurt Kurt or die trying.
*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*
Puck yawned, watching Josh Hartnett and Bruce Willis pretend to be cold-blooded hit men on the plasma screen television. 'Lucky Number Slevin' was an amazing movie. Lucy Liu was one hot chick and everything was high definition. That was a high point of working for the Hummels.
There was a soft knock at his door. Puck muted the television and got up. It wasn't uncommon for one of the guys to want to hang out or discuss logistics at the end of the day. Puck opened the door to find Kurt Hummel looking back at him reticently, dressed in tiny, soft cotton sleep shorts and an over sized powder blue tank.
Puck was surprised. After the attempted kidnapping and the subsequent event, Kurt had avoided him. The avoidance wasn't obvious to others, Kurt still spoke to him and Puck accompanied him to school - along with Dallas now - but Puck could feel the subtle shift away. Kurt no longer wanted to know him on a personal level and had stopped sharing with him the insignificant events of his days. He knew that Kurt must be horrified at his brutality. Kurt was constantly skittish around him now and it…made him feel hollow. Puck accepted it.
His surprise must have shown on his face because Kurt blushed.
"Sorry…" Kurt apologized. "I couldn't sleep and I saw that your light was on. So I thought…"
Puck stared back at him blankly. The only thing his mind could process at the moment was that Kurt was coming to his bedroom in the middle of the night.
"Kurt, why are you here? "
"I just… I was thinking about things and…." Kurt trailed off then brightened. "I brought ice cream!" He announced, holding up a pint of Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby. "We could share?" He suggested excitedly then realized his words and sputtered. "I mean, no, not share but eat it together. Not that I'm feeding you or anything but we can take turns, I only have one spoon." Kurt let out a shaky breath, his nerves were making him crazy. "Um…you can have the whole thing!"
Puck chuckled, amused, and found himself stepping aside to motion Kurt in. A small part of him- okay, a huge part of him- was relieved that Kurt wasn't completely disgusted by him.
"Wow, I love what you've done with the place." Puck followed Kurt's gaze as it took in his scattered clothing and various pieces of equipment that littered the space. The room was a mess.
"Yeah," He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's not like I expected you to come barging in at -" He squinted at the clock. "One forty five am."
"I couldn't sleep." Kurt explained.
"You said that already." Puck took in Kurt's rumpled hair and bare face. Kurt still managed to look absolutely gorgeous at this time of the night. Puck smiled at him softly. Kurt caught his look and gazed back, a tiny crease in his forehead as he tried to decipher what the smile meant.
"I don't have like, horrible bed head, do I?" He patted his hair nervously. "I knew I should've checked myself in the mirror." He muttered more to himself then Puck.
"You look fine, Hummel." Puck motioned to the pint. "Now, I thought you said there was ice cream?"
"Of course," He handed over his offering with a smile. "What are you watching?"
" Lucky Number Slevin."
"Oh! I love that movie. Josh Hartnett is a solid actor."
"He's not too bad on the eyes either." Puck found himself teasing the younger man.
"Well, true, but still a great performance." Kurt sat down on the settee, folding his legs under him. Puck hesitated for a fraction of a second and then followed, sitting down beside him. "Morgan Freeman is actually my favorite actor. I think I've seen everything he's ever been in."
"No shit, have you seen the Bucket List?"
"Well. No, but it's on my list of things to do."
"The Bucket List is on your bucket list." Puck grinned. "You're one of the most dedicated fans I've ever met."
"Shh. This is the best line." Kurt stared at the screen seriously, his lips moving to speak along with the actor. " How do you justify being a rabbi... and a gangster?" Kurt's voice was high and gravely as he spoke Slevin's lines then pitched to a low rumble as he spoke as the rabbi. " I don't. I'm a bad man who doesn't waste time wondering what could've been when I am what could've been and what could not have been. I live on both sides of the fence. My grass is always green. Consider, Mr. Fisher... there are two men sitting here before you, and one of them you should be very afraid of. Where's my money?'"
Puck burst into laughter. "Amazing! Now that's a talent."
"Don't make fun of me." Kurt looked at him, pouting. .
Puck's gaze drifted down momentarily, ghosting over Kurt's slender, toned legs. He forced his back gaze up. "I'm not." Puck assured him. "It actually feels pretty good to not be the only person who does that during a movie."
"It is a good movie." Kurt felt giddy at the sudden camaraderie. When he'd knocked on Puck's door he hadn't known what to expect. Surprisingly it turned out Puck was in the best of moods at two am.
"One of the best," Puck agreed, then impulsively snagged the spoon from Kurt's hand. "But I think ice cream will make it even better."
"I knew you had a sweet tooth!" Kurt accused. "Rob told me you stop by every morning and get a blended hot cocoa. I didn't believe him but now I do."
"Lies, all lies." Puck said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Isn't there a confidentiality code or something in the restaurant business?" Kurt shook his head, laughing. "Nothing is sacred anymore."
"The least you could do is bring me back a mocha swirl." Kurt chided snatching the spoon back to scoop the ice cream into his mouth. He realized that the spoon had just been in Pucks mouth the moment it touched his lips. Kurt hoped that it was too dark for Puck to see him flush.
"Now that my secret's out I just might." Puck gave him a sideways glance. "That'll be three fifty, kid, those drinks won't be coming for free."
"For tomorrow? You're still going even though you haven't gone to bed yet? That'll leave you with four hours of sleep!"
"Yep, I know." Puck was watching the television where Slevin was trying to talk his way out of the Rabbi's office. "Your intel was correct, I do go everyday. I think I'm a sugar junkie."
"Wow, that's amazing." Kurt said. "I don't think I could function on so little sleep."
"It's a habit from the military." Puck shrugged. "I was so used to sleeping in shifts, it never really wore off. All I need is four hours."
"How long were you in the army?"
"Almost nine years."
"But you're only twenty seven!" Kurt blushed at Puck questioning look. "I mean…I read my Dad's background check on you."
"Then you should know that I went in at seventeen."
"I know that." Kurt nodded uneasily. "What you did to that man…it was scary. It was like you were a whole other person."
"I am that person, Kurt. It was me in that room." Puck didn't even have to ask what he was talking about. "They hurt you."
"But still-"
"I went too far, obviously. I was stupid and that's why we have to wait for information but I don't regret it."
Kurt shivered delicately, the fervor in Puck's voice was intense. "Did you do things like that in the army, when you were younger?"
"No." Puck had expected Kurt to leave. "I mostly toured on goodwill missions until I got shipped to the middle east at twenty one. Last stop was Jordan."
Kurt shuddered. "That must've been horrible." He'd read about what happened there.
"It was I guess…" Puck's eyes had taken on a faraway look and Kurt got the feeling that he was no longer in the room, that his mind was somewhere else. "The first day was pure hell. No body tells you how much fucking sand there is. I'd only trained on American bases in the south and was shipped out to Europe and Latin America before hand. So that was the biggest shock." He chuckled slightly, the sound was hollow. "There was a sand storm, my unit got caught up in it…thought that was the end for all of us. They don't train you for that shit. Mike, he got it the worst; spent half the night vomiting up sand and blood."
"That's…" Kurt didn't know what to say. This was a side of Puck he couldn't relate to, that no one who hadn't been with him would understand.
"I thought he was going to die that day." Puck still hadn't looked at him. "It's the weirdest feeling, looking at your best friend and saying goodbye while he's still alive, you know? But it had to be done."
Kurt acted on pure instinct and put his hand on Puck's forearm comfortingly. "But you guys got through it." Kurt could feel the muscles tense beneath his fingertips but Puck didn't shrug him off, surprisingly. If anything he moved into the touch.
"Too many days and nights like that one." Puck finally looked at Kurt and Kurt was startled to see the depth of emotion in his grey eyes. It was like all of Puck's guards were down, like he was an open book but his secrets were written in a language Kurt didn't understand. "It's shitty when you keep having to say goodbye."
"It's good you had each other." Kurt looked down and saw his slender, pale fingers atop of Puck's brawny forearm. "That you had someone and didn't have to go through it alone." Kurt looked up to see that Puck was watching their hands as well.
"Yeah…sometimes it's worth it."
"Well, were you always on a mission or overseas?" Kurt asked. He was afraid to break the spell but now that he was finding out intimate details about Puck, he couldn't help himself. He had to know. He wanted to know everything about the fascinating man. Piece the picture together.
"I was on leave a couple of times." Puck took the spoon back and stuck it into the ice cream container. "I had some friends I still kept in touch with…family, as well."
"Family?" Kurt was surprised. For some reason he'd just assumed that Puck was alone, an orphan or something. Why else would he go into the army so young?
"Yeah. My mother lives in Lima, Ohio." Puck snorted. "We're not very close or anything."
"No brothers or sisters? You're an only child?"
Puck tensed and moved away. "It's almost three." He shut off the T.V. and looked at Kurt expectantly. "I think you should get back to your own room."
"Oh…okay, sorry." Kurt was taken aback. He got to his feet clumsily, his fingers fumbling on the half meted ice cream container. "I'll just...um, take this back downstairs-"
"Kurt, I swear I'm not trying to be an asshole." He opened the door and stood next to it. It was obvious he wanted Kurt to go. " But some things are personal."
Kurt hesitated by the door and Puck gave him a small smile.
"Good night, kid."
Kurt smiled up at him impishly and then on pure impulse, stretched up on his toes to press a chaste kiss to Puck's lips, taking the older man by surprise. "Night, Noah." He was gone before Puck could react.
Puck shook his head, flopping down on his back on the king size bed. He knew he would sleep easy.
*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*'~'*
When Kurt woke up the next morning at eight am, he opened his door to find a cup of mocha swirl, still hot, sitting in front of his door. He looked around the hallway, it was deserted. His gaze landed on Puck's closed door and a warm smile spread across his face.