Story: Redeem Yourself

Rating: T (Safe side)

Word count: 2,100

Pairings: Puckurt, Finchel, Samcedes, Bartie, one-sided Brittana, Tike

A/N: Well hello again! I'm surprised this story got as many hits as it did! I'm sure to disappoint, that's what usually happens after the first chapter LOL Sorry. ANYWAY. This chapter and the next one will be a continuous part. Then I'll get into random days and snippets and junk.

Also, fair warning, there's swearing and the PoV switches. You'll know which part is which, but when I have PoVs here, it'll be just Kurt and Puck. No one else. That'd be too confusing. Anyway, enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee.

This bet will be the death of me, McKinley.

I've already seen so many freshman I know I can get it on with (not to mention a few of the older teachers here looking nice to tap) but here I am, telling everyone that I'm not interested because I have someone else I'm going for. And when they say who, I don't have the courage to say who or why.

Seriously, how does the guy do it? How does he prance around this school like a King (Queen?) because he's out of the closet, and have the courage to be like that? If I were to scream at the top of my lungs right now, that I was gay, I'd be getting a slushie to the face every hour of the day. And that would not look cool with my Mohawk right now.

I see him down the hall with diva Mercedes. He does this face routine every morning, lotions and all (yeah, he's definitely gay) for about 20 minutes before class actually begins, and when it does, he takes five more minutes to make sure his hair is perfect and not messed up before closing his locker and locking arms with the diva. Now, I'm not one to complain, but come on, dude. You can't be serious about your appearance that much. Does that mean I have to be the same way?

A few years ago, I'd be walking down the hall, seeing him by his locker, and when he would slam that door, confident that he looked so great, BAM! A slushie to the face. Oh, it felt so great to do it to him! Then I started to feel really bad when I actually joined Glee club, and one thing led to another—I stopped throwing grape flavors in his face, stopped getting ice chunks in his hair, and actually became friends with him. I'm not saying I hang out with the dude, but I can appreciate his lifestyle.

The other guys, well, not so much. There's Azimio and Dave, coming down the hall. They're gonna make his life a living hell for the next year, I can see it in their eyes (can people actually do that? Because, if they can, is it like a superpower?). I also know because, well, they just told me they were going to do it.

More chicks are coming for badass Puck, to get with me. "So I hear you're looking for me?" Word spreads fast here at McKinley when it involves me, what can I say?

"Sorry, babe, you're not my type," I say to her. I don't even know who she is, but she's smoking hot. Damn, what I wouldn't give to tap that, too!

I hate the first day of classes now.

"What do you mean, not your type?" I shrug her off. She'll get the hint. She'll go away. And she does. They always do this little grunt thing when I do that. I probably just shot down their dreams, whatever. I need to get to Kurt before the guys do. This hallway though! The one place he has a locker, it has to be the busiest hallway!

I need to prepare myself for the worst. This is gonna suck, isn't it? Mother of all cougars, help me.

0o0

Why did summer have to end? I was finally getting used to my daily showtune medleys when I woke up at a decent time (I can't seem to remember if it was one or two in the afternoon) when Finn had to remind me that school was starting. It's the last year, my Senior year. I've already had a pretty good high school life—I've come out of the closet, went to Regionals and Nationals with the Glee club and my friends, and I've been Prom Queen, against my will.

Okay, so maybe I should be paraded as the popular kid here, but a popular kid being gay in Ohio is like finding a potato in Alaska—it just won't work. Mercedes is the only girl here that keeps me here, the place I despise so much. They do their best to keep me here and safe, don't get me wrong, but their army of two won't really work against an army of 1021 here in Lima.

She's talking up a storm about her dating life—I thought she was dating Sam. I guess my suspicions were false. "All these fine boys coming through those doors, why do they always have to be a freshman? Couldn't I just find one hot boy out of the bunch that's my age? Or even a hot teacher? Hell, I'd like some action too," she's truly a diva.

"Don't think about it too much, Mercedes. You don't want to be infected by the Neanderthals here," I hear her laugh and sigh; we're complete opposites but complete each other's world. But it's true, they're all very unintelligent here. Take Azimio and Dave, for instance. I see them down the hall in my mirror, and I know they're scheming. When I close this locker door, they'll come storming down the hall, push me into the lockers, and think they accomplished something.

Yes, think.

I don't think they have the capability to think, but maybe their brains actually have a function. What they don't know, however, is that once I close this locker door, I'll lock arms with Mercedes, and have her on the outside. That way, they can't touch us, because it'd be some kind of harassment on their part. Plus, it'd be discrimination against a minority (unless Azimio did it, then maybe not).

I hear a phone ring—it's Mercedes'. "Hey girl, what's going on?" It must be Tina. "Wait, wait, she did what? And he said what?" She has a big smile on her face, then all of the sudden starts busting out into a laugh. I'm a little scared. "Girl, that is crazy! Hey, I'll tell him right now, alright? Alright, peace." She quickly hangs up the phone. I seriously need to start timing her and her phone calls, they're insanely fast.

I glance over at her and see her eager face. "Okay, spill, what's going on?"She dishes, like she always does. Seriously, she can't keep her mouth shut. When Finn told her to not tell the world about him getting some fantastic gift for Rachel (seriously, he hid it from me, of all people), she gabbed to everyone—including Rachel.

"So, apparently, Santana tried getting it on with Puck over at the entrance today," I glance over at the doors. They're not there anymore. "and you'll never guess what he said to her." She was just about to tell me when a hand slammed my locker shut. Luckily, these precious hands of mine are fine—my hair might be a little blown around from the wind. Damn the air sometimes.

An arm was between us. "Hey, diva, beat it," it's Puck. What does he want? And what did he do to Santana? For that matter, why is he talking to either of us? What is going on? I look at Mercedes.

"Oh, hell no, Puckerman, you best not be telling me to go away," I knew it. She'd always go ghetto on someone if they told her otherwise. He looks over at her.

"Look, I need to talk to my homeboy here. Can I have a few minutes with him?"She looks over at him, then at me. I hope my pleading look of "please don't go away" is working.

She looks back at him. "You have five minutes, then you best be gone when I come back." She whips out her phone and starts dialing away. No, Mercedes! Please don't leave! Puck leans against the lockers where Mercedes just was. Please ring, bell. Please ring.

0o0

I'm right next to him. It's now or never. I see him fumbling around with his looks, and holding a lotion bottle in his hand. Moisturizing cream for the face? All you need is some soap, not lotion. Totally not using that stuff when I "come out" here (that stuff smells really good, though). "What is it that you need, Noah?"

Him and Rachel are the only ones to call me by that name here. It's not that I don't like the name, I'm just not used to it. Even when I'm in bed with a lady, she uses "Puck" as the name of choice. I don't mind. It's kind of like a signature for me, like Zorro or something.

"Dude, you look fine, why are you so worried about your looks?" He gives me this stern look. I know this look. Girls give this look all the time. If they can't worry about their looks, then there must be something wrong. He turns to his locker and starts turning his lock. I called it. I stop him though and put my hand on the locker. "Kurt, I need some help."

His eyes shift over to me and he raises an eyebrow. "Are you finally getting rid of that jock jacket? Because you definitely need a new fashion sense, and that look is not flattering on your figure." Wow, really? I always thought the jacket was what brought the chicks to me, and…wait, I need to focus.

"What? No, it's not that. Look," I breathe in. I need to make this look as believable as possible. When I exhale, he turns to me. I know he's uninterested, because I don't give him any attention either. This is awkward, isn't it? "There's something I need to say."

He stands there, and he is going to say something. "Please don't say you have a sexual disease. Or you knocked another girl up during the summer." I shake my head and lean in. I have to look hurt, or sympathetic, or something, right? I should've practiced in the mirror.

"No, dude, I'm…" I pause. I can't take this back. Once it's out, it's out. There's no turning back. I look right in his eyes. "I'm gay." I whisper it, just so the two of us can only hear it. For a minute, it's like the whole world is staring at my back, as if they heard it too. I've never experienced this before. What is this? He is just standing there, looking at me.

Finally, he speaks. "No you're not. Bi, maybe, but not gay." He saw right through! Damn his gay senses! I can't give up now!

"Dude, yes I am!" I almost shouted it—that would've been bad. I am actually offended that he can blatantly say who's gay or not. Even though I'm not gay, what if I was? I would've been crushed! And that never happens!

He is turning his lock again, and he has that smirk on his face. I know this smirk. He always does it when he knows he's right. "No, you aren't."

"How do you know?" He opens his locker, but looks at me first when the door swings in front of my face.

"Because you're thinking of getting with that girl in the middle of the hallway next to the set of green lockers later, aren't you?" Damn, this kid was good. He did this when I was with Quinn and Santana. He was actually the first to know I was sexting Santana when I was with Quinn. He's quite a cunning one.

I lean towards him again, whispering: "Look. I want to prove it to you. How can I do that when you think I'm looking to score with a chick?" That's believable, right? I don't know, this bet sucks. Azimio is definitely going to win. But I don't want Kurt to leave. I have to win.

Kurt opens another lotion, this one for revitalizing something. It smells really good, too. He must be loaded with those lotions. "I don't know, Noah. You'll have to figure that out yourself. Might I suggest not liking women first?" I feel someone tap my shoulder, followed by a clicking of a phone. Damn it.

"Excuse me, you're in my spot." The diva is back. I look at Kurt.

"This is a secret," he looks at me, and I know he'll be watching me walk away right now. I hear Mercedes ask what went on, but he's not saying a word. He says a little white lie. So maybe I didn't get the job done right away, so what? I have a whole year to win this bet.

But this school year is going to suck.

0o0

That was weird.