A/N: Okay, this is chapter 2. Nothing much happens here, but I'm still introducing you to the story, so don't give up on me just yet, ok? Lemme know what you think.

P.S. There'll be a lemon in the later chapters, but can't tell you when exactly. :)

Town of Hummelville

Chapter 2

Kurt had a problem.

It wasn't one of those usual problems – like finding a matching scarf for your Prada shirt or hiding every food that wasn't organic away from your Dad's hungry eyes – this problem was actually quite a serious one. His father, stepbrother and stepmother were out of town, he had to miss one of the few events that he had been looking forward to (Rachel could destroy everything that was to be merry about a Glee trip, but at least he could count on spending more time with his friends rather than swimming in the dumpster or cleaning slushy goo off his designer clothes.) and to top it all, he couldn't walk ten meters in a straight line no matter how hard he tried... Well, now that he thought about it, he might not be able to walk ten meters in a zigzag pattern, either, given how things kept quivering in a funny haze before his eyes because of the fever. Oh, Kurt was really, really sick and he knew it. He didn't have a single muscle left that didn't ache at least a little, his body kept shaking despite the two blankets and he was so crabby he could beat up practically anyone who dared to irritate him with his fluffy slipper if it weren't for the fact that he was too exhausted to even sit up... It was all quite marvelous, yes, and it somehow kept getting better: the one person that his lovely family and unbelievably thoughtful friends had left behind to take care of him, was a 17-year-old MILF-ophile who knew 98 more words, other than "badass" and "guns" and who was currently unhealthily fascinated by the large flat-screen TV on the opposite wall to pay any attention to what the sick singer was trying to tell him. And what Hummel was trying to tell him was:

"Get the hell out of my house."

Did he mention he was really crabby? Frustrated? Full of petulance?

"You're not very nice." Puck pointed out absently as he scanned the line of DVDs, his index finger resting on his chin thoughtfully as if he was trying to make up his mind if any of them was worth his attention. A small groan came from Kurt's direction at that statement as the boy turned his head to the side to glare at the back of the jock's head.

"I'm no very nice? You're an intruder and you refuse to leave! I can go call the police right now."

"You won't even make it to the phone, Princess. And besides, I just went and got you all the medicine you needed from the drugstore. The least you can do is try and not bite my head off."

Kurt resisted the urge for a facepalm only because he knew it would make the haze worse… and because Puckerman was kind of right. Even if his fried brain desperately tried to ignore it, the pile of bottles and pills on the top of the table, just a reach away, was a painful proof that, yes, the jock had, in fact, called the doctor, written down the list of the needed medicine and gone out to the pharmacy to get them, all in spite of Hummel's smartass remarks ('Oh, do please wander away instead of coming back' and 'Don't hope that I will give you your money back' were some of the most popular). In the end of the day, he didn't mean either but that wasn't the point. He didn't want Puck around. Not only were they not friends (well, how could it not be so when the danger of 'catching the gay' was exalted enough by their mutual membership in Glee?), but Kurt had very little reason to trust the footballer – and why would he be otherwise when the closest interaction the two of them had ever had was of the jock giving Hummel a lift to the dumpster express.

This whole situation was just so wrong. So, so, so wrong! The mere presence of the Jew was making the smaller boy feel uneasy and even slightly anxious; he wanted to be left in peace. At least then he wouldn't have to strain his already hoarse voice to speak and his nerves wouldn't have to endure the torture that was Noah Puckerman in his purest form…

Kurt snorted under his breath at the thought, dropping his arm over his eyes with a sigh. Oh, for Gaga's sake, these pills better start working soon so I can send this Neanderthal back to his cave, or else I swear, I will lose my battle against insanity…

"Yo, Hummel?"

Kurt didn't even bother looking at the jock, giving up a tired 'hmm?' instead.

"Is there anything in here that is like, homo-proof?"

Kurt let his eyes shut, his jaw clenching as he fought down the rage deluge that was rising from the tips of his toes up, up to his currently heating cheeks. This was unbelievable. Unbelievable. So the jock comes here, stays against Kurt's will, buys Kurt medicine, against Kurt's will and now offends his choice of movies… which, by the way, is also against Kurt's will.

"There're a lot of high-quality musicals in my collection but considering all the cells in your body that perform any kind of 'clever' activity are congregated either in your mohawk or in certain other body parts that I shall not name, I'm afraid you won't be able to appraise any of those masterpieces."

The sick singer glanced at Noah, and, espying the slightly puzzled frown on the taller male's face, he mentally congratulated himself. Mission accomplished. Recovering from the brain glitch almost instantly, the jock shook his head and proceeded to head to the sofa that Kurt was currently occupying, only to plop down at the smaller male's feet, nearly squishing them.

"What are we going to do, then?"

"We are doing nothing. You are hitting the road and I am staying here to enjoy my ceiling and the other views that this couch provides."

"Why are you being so hostile?"

Letting out a loud sigh, Kurt pushed himself in a sitting position and pulled his knees to his chest, noting to himself that the action didn't make him feel nearly as dizzy as he guessed it would. Apparently, the pills were starting to take effect.

"I don't know, Puck. Could it be because you've thrown me in the dumpster and executed all sorts of random terrors on me for the better part of my school years?" he suggested snarkily, cocking his head to the side as he folded his arms on top of his raised knees. Noah just rolled his eyes with a snort.

"That was before. What is important is right now." He stated wisely and Kurt arched both brows incredulously, his cracked lips twisting with slight irritation.

"Come on, Puckerman. Tell me why you're really here."

Fixing his brown eyes on the sick boy's sallow face, Puck leaned back against the sofa and slid his arms across its back with a bored huff. Whatever was going through his head right now, he seemed pretty confident that his next words would be passable enough for 'the princess' to buy them and it made Kurt's fingers itch all the more for that fluffy slipper. Hummel was not stupid – far from it, actually – and he had spend enough time in Glee club to know exactly which expression the jock used when a big, big lie was about to leave his mouth. And even if the smaller singer wasn't so aware of that little detail, you didn't need to be a genius to figure out what was going on (As a matter of fact, being informed about all the latest gossip was all that was required to spot the quite obvious 'Best Friend Quest' in which the jock had embarked. And Kurt just happened to have the perfect flock of blabbering friends, better known as The-Female-FBI, to have his currently fairly dizzy head filled with all sorts of useless data.) It was ok if those were Puck's motives to be doing this – really, it was. Because if it hadn't been this way, then Hummel would have a reason to not hate the muscular Jew, which would, irrevocably, lead to the end of the world as we know it…

Drama and tragedy aside though, Kurt wanted to see if Puck would have at least the decency of being honest about his intentions. Just so, even if it was probably going to infuriate him beyond belief later on.

"It was the right thing to do, you know, cuz I'm not just one hell of a sex shark, but I'm also, like, a really responsible and compassionate citizen." Noah paused, scowling for a moment in his quite amusing attempt to concentrate, and then added. "All the usual stuff, really. Homeless people. Hungry kittens. Street littering. Ill gay kids..."

Kurt choked.

"Puck, I might be sick and un-combed, but that doesn't make me a retard. I know this is not why you're here." He stated, willingly reigning the un-amused bitch that was currently throwing a tantrum inside of him. "And I most certainly am not a social problem!"

Well, you're gay and society has a problem with it, so what does that make you? Kurt chose to ignore the obnoxious thought that involuntarily popped into his head and let his features twist into a sulking expression instead. If he had been a tall, bulky footballer (see: Frankenteen) he would've already grabbed Puck by the collar and thrown him out like a filthy dog. However, fate obviously didn't give amazing taste for fashion, brilliant brains and unparalleled music talent all in one package with muscles, so poor Hummel was left with his only, albeit quite deadly weapon: his ability to smartass talk Noah out of spending another minute in the house.

"But wow, Puck, using me to get your best buddy back must be the most elaborate plan you've ever come up with. You should be proud."

The jock's mouth twisted to the side with mild irritation as he dropped his arms off the back of the sofa and rested his elbows on his knees with a soft grumble.

"Shut it, Lance Bass! So maybe I'm doing this to make it up to Finn. Why do you care?" he fixed his now slightly angered chocolate orbs on the smaller male and added in what appeared to be sincere strain to sound casual. "It's just a couple of days and you obviously need someone to take care of you. It's a win-win."

Kurt shook his head, a series of small tuts rolling off his tongue as he eyed the man before him with a generous amount of condescension. Years of being shoved against lockers and slushied in the face had taught him surprisingly little of when to shut up – something that had successfully baffled and at the same time irritated his torturers ever since… well, ever. Because, really, a victim wasn't supposed to talk back, a victim was meant to be quiet (or screaming, it was optional) and then thoroughly thankful when left alone. The resident queer, however, was nothing like that. He knew it got him in trouble far more than it made him feel better about himself but he couldn't help it – he needed at least the satisfaction of messing with those Neanderthals' heads, perplexing them with words that were more than two syllables long and then, eventually, having them yell "SHUT UP!" in his face when they couldn't think of anything better to say.

Sometimes his tongue would help him out of a predicament, but far more often than not it earn him far worse of a torment than his bullies had initially planned for him. It was awful not knowing when to stop pushing.

And right now, when all alone in the basement of his own house and in the company of the very same guy who had contributed to the better part of his high school sufferings, Kurt really, really didn't need to go too far.

"Poor Noah, did you honestly think you could just come over and force your presence on me just because I'm too weak to fight you?" he asked as he bowed his head a little, contemplating the other student from underneath his lashes with mock innocence. "Haven't you ever paused even for one moment to deliberate over the drawbacks of this... situation?"

Puck's lips parted in confusion as he scanned the shorter singer with swiftly accumulating suspicion.

"What drawbacks?" he uttered quickly, flatly and Kurt barely resisted the urge to sneer at the way the first traces of worry started to streak the jock's tan face.

"How do you think your schoolmates will react when they find out you've spent the past couple of days with the resident queer?"

A blank stare. Ha! Kurt barely desisted from bursting into a wicked snicker at the sight, knowing that – ugh-oh! – he had just hit a undefended spot. Strike one!

"Willingly sacrificed your time to helped him recuperate from a sickness? What would that do to your bad-boy status, hm, Puck?"

Strike two! Kurt's lips broke into a sneering smirk as he felt his chest swell with confidence, the words now falling out of his mouth too easily, almost giving him no time to breath.

"Somebody might figure that the infamous cougar-killer of Lima had only put on the 'stud' image to hide that, in fact, he's much more of a pony, begging to be - should I really say it? - ridden by another guy."

HOMERUN! The hundreds of fans residing in Hummel's head all burst into loud applauses and victorious cheers at the way the jock's eyes popped wide and shocked, features twisting into an expression that Kurt, along with his whole club of admirers, were never going to forget.

"Why, you little…" the smaller singer's smile immediately dropped off his face as Puck's own one turned livid. Kurt barely had the time to squeak before he found himself pushed down on sofa, the jock's hand pressing on his chest to keep him down. The warm feeling of satisfaction was gone in an instant, replaced by startled pallor and quite pathetic vulnerability, the last part seeming to frighten Hummel far more than the not-so-unusual perspective of being hit. Way to go with that mouth again.

"Nice one, Puck, harass the sick kid." Kurt let out a quivering chuckle, trying to sound cocksure despite the fact that his breathing and heart-rate were rapidly accelerating. "Does it make you feel more like a man? You know, being able to manhandle-" he clamped his mouth shut as he felt the hand on his body press harder, reaching the point where it was starting to hurt.

"Hummel…" Puck began, his voice deadly low and Kurt cringed, features already settling into a painful grimace despite the fact that the jock's free palm was resting on the back of the sofa, rather than curling into a fist.

"Please, get off." The countertenor mumbled piteously before remembering to act tough "O-or I'll… cough in your face!"

Surprisingly enough, Puck just burst into a benevolent laugh at the threat, startling the boy far worse than the punch he had been so anxiously anticipating.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Princess, I'm not that stupid. Finn's going to have my face pulverized if he comes back to find his brother lacking even one precious hair."

"O-oh." Kurt blinked stupidly, feeling the pressure on his chest ease gradually. "Then may I ask why you're on top of me?"

"I have a suggestion for you and I want to make sure you take this very, very seriously." Puck's eyes darkened a little as he moved away from the smaller male, the bully inside of him reflecting somewhere in the brown depths of his orbs as a reminder of who Hummel was dealing with. The countertenor swallowed with a certain difficulty but didn't make a move to sit up despite having been released from the hold. If it weren't for all those years that he had been modulating his brain to believe that the Jewish footballer was in fact a genderless and devoid of brains (and sexual attributes) creature, he might've found their current position quite ambiguous (especially after the pony comment from 5 minutes ago) but right now this was the last thing that he was thinking about. Plus, it would be a really bad idea to point anything of the sort out at this moment, considering Puck was obviously doing his best not to do what he usually would in this sort of situation.

"Isn't it quite dangerous to make deals with someone as perilously gay as me? You never know when the homo-germs might decide to infest your body…" and there he goes again. Big mouth. Huge. Kurt so needed to buy a roll of that shiny duct-tape…

No painful outcomes followed the remark though, as Noah seemed in quite good-natured mood today and merely chuckled again, withdrawing to his side of the sofa.

"I'm such a stud, Fancy, that even your gay germs drop dead at the contact with my sexy, lady-killer body." He pointed out with a wriggle of his (quite shapeless according to the more fashionable of the two) brows and Kurt barely resisted the urge to groan out loud. This was getting old.

"You're going to beat Rachel at being sickeningly full of yourself one of these days, you know that?"

"Look, Hummel." Puck said, completely ignoring the smaller boy's last comment. "I know you and I don't get along very well - that having to do with you being so openly girly and me being a sex shark - but in times of need-"

"Your need, you mean?" Kurt clarified, pushing himself up in a sitting position with his left leg tucked under the right one as he adjusted a pillow behind his back. Now that the danger seemed to had passed, his brain had switched to smartass mode pretty much by itself and judging by the way the jock was trying to reign his vexation once again, it seemed like Hummel would be getting away with it for a lot more than just a little longer.

"In times of need," Puck reiterated, scowling with irritation at being cut off "We, as Glee members, should stick together. You help me gain some brownie points in front of Finn, and I'll help you get better."

"I'll recover on my own, thank you very much." Kurt pointed out icily as he pulled his blanket to himself and wrapped it around his shoulder without glancing at the other student "Seriously, Puckerman, you can go home. I'll tell Finn you had been a lovely baby-sitter all along and no one will know the truth." He paused to throw a mindless look in Noah's direction. "That's all you want, right?"

"That wouldn't be fair."

"Fair? Since when does Noah Puckerman care about 'fair'? There must be like a gazillion things that you've done to losers such as me that prove you don't know what this word means."

The room fell silent for a couple of minutes then, all the while Kurt expected from the jock to stand up and leave (maybe do something nasty to him beforehand), but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Puck took a deep breath before turning to the countertenor and enunciating with determination that made Hummel's brows disappear in his bangs:

"No. I can do this. I won't bully you and I'll do everything you ask, so when Finn comes back, you'll have to tell him what an awesome guy I am." He paused to muse over his next line for a moment and then added in a lower voice "But you can't tell anyone."

Kurt's stadium of fans all smirked smugly at the thought.

A/N: Please, be nice. T_T