Dear Puck,

Dude, what up with the hair in season three? Please return it to its season one/two glory. Thanks.

Sincerely,
A troubled fan

P.S. Sing more, yes?

Effect of a Summer Epiphany Ch.7

Kurt is pretty sure a demon from the depths of an unfashionable closet is about to wreak havoc on his fabulous head because there is some serious phantom pains going on. Yes, phantom pains. It's those pains before a headache where you are pretty sure it hurts but then you momentarily forget about it so you think it never really existed and oh whatever. He thinks he is starting to get a headache and for once he is okay with Glee club being cancelled. Not that it happens often though, Mr. Schuester doesn't seem to have a whole lot going on except for Glee.

Anyway, he was peacefully making his way out of the student parking lot Finn-less since he is once again with Rachel, it's almost like they're attached at the hip, but his progress towards home and a relaxing mug full of hot tea is interrupted by Puck waving him down. Confusion and curiosity bubbles up inside of him so he gives an acknowledging wave before pulling up next to Puck's truck. A pale finger pushes the down arrow button on the driver side door causing the electric window to retract, an eyebrow arching in question accompanies its decent.

"Heeey Kurt, you know your way around under the hood, right?" Puck greeted cheerfully

"Yes," he answered skeptically. Now what did the little, okay not really little, jock want of him.

"I was wondering if you could take a look at my truck, it's not startin'." Duh, car assistance. What else would it be when speaking about his auto skills?

"Aw, my poor damsel in distress."

"Hey! It's not my fault. Now are ya gonna help or make fun of me some more?"

"Oh I suppose I can lend you a hand." Puck's lips formed a smirk.

"Right here in the parking lot? Ooo dirty. I like it."

He was shot an exasperated look as Kurt's window was rolled up, his smirk staying while the car was turned off and the slender boy slid out, closing the door behind him, then giving a dull stare complete with hands on hips.

"Just pop the hood."

"I don't know what that means but sounds kinky," he purred. "You are trying so hard not to smile right now, I can tell."

Yeah, he's totally caught.

Kurt struggles to stave off the quirking up of his lips, ultimately losing but trying to hide it by walking around the front of his vehicle to the truck. Puck pulls the lever in the cab of his truck then watches as Kurt undoes the latch and lifts the hood. It's like a scene straight from Transformers. Well, almost. There is no Camaro, there is no sunshine, just gloominess what with the dark clouds covering the sky, and no Megan Fox. He does however have Kurt in tight pants, a white, baggy, off the shoulder sweater, if you can call it that since the things like paper thin, with a black tank top underneath. Wait. What the hell? Where does this kid get all these giant sweaters and tight pants? They are so opposite. It's weird man.

"Well, all I can really tell is that your distributor cap is loose."*

"How are you gonna tighten it?"

"Screwdriver."

"I don't see how alcohol is going to help here."

"Seriously?" the slender teen deadpanned.

"It was a joke."

"Oh...So I'm going to get that screwdriver." Kurt took the few steps to the back of his Navigator and opens the hatch.

"From where? Your ridiculous and out of place yellow utility belt?"**

"No, I happen to have a toolbox back here. I like to be prepared." He explained loud enough for the other to hear.

After closing the hatch, he walked back with the tool in hand and ducked back under the hood, trying not to get his clothes dirty because he just can't have that. Puck leaned against the front fender and watched the cars continue to file out and away from the school. It lasted a mere two second before rain began drizzling down from the sky.

"Perfect," Kurt muttered, sarcasm clear, but he was at least thankful that he rolled up the window and closed the hatch on his baby. Water damage is not something he is willing to deal with but dang it! It couldn't have waited five minutes? He hurriedly tightened the last screw and then it was like the bottom of the sky just fell out, water cascading down on them.

Getting drenched didn't really bother Puck, it's just water, but Kurt looked pissed with his fluffy hair pelted down and clingy sweater. A sweater that's white. And wet. Damn he has a flat stomach. Some chick from the 80s is probably looking for her tank top too because seriously? Who wears those huge, cut-off shirt anymore? Well Kurt apparently. It's all good though because damn he has a flat stomach.

"That should work, start it up."

The tan boy jerked the door open and threw himself inside before hastily closing the door in hopes of keeping the interior relatively dry. It started easily, filling Kurt with pride, making him triumphantly shut the hood. He was all ready to get his butt home and into something warm when Puck was getting back out of his truck. Why would he want to get back out into this? Kurt feels like a drowned rat for a lack of a better simile.

His interrogation of the other ended before it started. Being unexpectedly led and guided behind your car that's in the back of a parking lot where nobody is paying attention because of all the rain will do that to you. He briefly wonders if anyone has ever been whacked this way. Not that he thinks he is about to die, no definitely not, what with Puck's mouth now sucking water drops off his neck. He hadn't even noticed how chilly the rain is, dripping down him and soaking his clothes, until the hot heat of that muscular body enveloped his back.

Rough hands began roaming around narrow hips and under Kurt's shirt who was about to protest with something along the lines of the parking lot not being the appropriate place and not wanting to be groped but the thought died when the presence stilled on his stomach, palms flat, thumbs rubbing slowly. He was struck by how affectionate the action felt, the whole moment, including the lips trailing down to his exposed shoulder, seemed...tender.

It had an unnerving quality to it because it was unpredictable. Sarcastic, conceited, aggressive, aloof, all qualities he can handle calmly because he knows them, is familiar with them, but this almost loving Puck is uncharted territory. He's being embraced in the rain by Noah Puckerman for crying out loud! Anything amorous in the rain is perfect, cliched, romance, not what one would associate with him.

"This, right here," Puck started as he patted the smooth abdomen under his hands, "is awesome. It's just flat and like, nice. Do you work out?" Kurt laughed inside his head at the disbelief in Puck's question and outwardly smirked. The feeling of being desirable is addictive, something he sadly doesn't experience often. He shook his head no.

"Pilates."

"I have abso-fuckin'-lutely no idea what that is but I like it."

"And I would like it if I could get out of the rain," Kurt informed the jock now nuzzling into him as if he were a teddy bear and lightly smacked his cheek a couple times to get him to unwrap himself from Kurt's form.

"Afraid you'll melt?"

"Ha ha."

Puck pulled away, they parted ways, then high tailed it out of the rain even though they were already dripping wet, it is not like speed matters much at this point. Kurt squealed in excitement when he found a towel in the back of his car so he wouldn't completely saturate his seat and Puck cursed at leaving his truck running. Think of the gas wasted! That's money! Oh and the environment 'cause you know, that's going to hell and junk.

!GLEE!

"Ugh, that is hideous," Kurt mumbled through a half stuffed up nose at the fashionably challenged girl on Project Runway because frankly, her design is atrocious. He picked the tissue box off of his bed and angry slammed it onto his nightstand to get it out of the way so he can burrow himself into the fluffiness that is his bed. Being sick sucks. Only half of his nose is working, he is exhausted but not tired enough to actually sleep, tissues are piling up in his waste basket from the periodic sneezing and blowing of the nose, then oh Gucci the headache! He has been to Glee once this week since it was cancelled Wednesday and he was too sick to go to school today. Once! At least he will have the weekend to recuperate.

The faint sound of the heavy front door closing drifts up to Kurt's room and he is having a pathetic mental battle with himself. The dilemma? Puck is Finn's ride home. Meaning Kurt wants his boyfriend to come and check on him but then he doesn't because he is looking less than fabulous and if Puck doesn't come say high, then he will be depressed even though he shouldn't because who wants to be around a sick person? Wait a minute. It shouldn't have taken that long to get here from school. Maybe Glee ran late? He huffs out a sigh. He hates being sick.

Foot steps are close by and then his door is being pushed open. Yep, Kurt made up his mind. He'd rather not be seen right now seeing as he didn't moisturize, he didn't shower, and what pajamas is he wearing? Oh the blue silky ones, that's good.

"Sup Princess, brought you somethin'."

Puck strides in like he owns the place, of course the pale boy wouldn't expect anything less, and over to Kurt's bed, holding a cup in each hand. He looks dully at both.

"Coffee or hot tea?" So that's why they were late.

"Um, tea." He poked out a hand from its warm and cozy blanket covered prison to take the one offered. He took a sip of the soothing liquid and relished the warmth sliding down his throat. "Thanks," he breathlessly uttered in gratitude.

"Eh, whatever. Finn told me about your cold and I remember you telling me that caffeine can help when your head hurts."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the teen who was now drinking from the coffee.

"You remember that?"

"It's not like it was that long ago."

"I know, it's just nice to know you listen."

"Psh, of course I do. Sometimes." He just shrugged it off and dropped onto Kurt's bed, leaning against the headboard and staring at the TV. "So did like a bear and a lion have an MMA fight on that or what?" Glasz eyes drifted forward and saw the exact same outfit he was ridiculing. He couldn't help but smile.

"I'm hoping the judges make the designer cry."

"That's harsh...but now I wanna see it."

And so, for the first time ever, Puck watched part of a Project Runway episode. And the girl didn't cry.

"Well that wasn't worth it. You know this show sucks, and I mean like really sucks, right?"

"Do not criticize a sick person's entertainment." It was stated with as much haughtiness Kurt could muster in his fuzzy state and what he did next is totally to be blamed on the sickness. He handed over his television remote to Puck. He relinquished power over something!

"About keeping you out in the rain the other day? My bad." The channels were flipping by at a steady rate as Puck apologized. It was masked as indifferent but Kurt could tell he meant it. Somehow! He can't believe he is already good at understanding this former delinquent. Well, hopefully former.

"I was already getting a headache before that so I think this was starting before then. I won't completely blame you." Once his drink was placed on his nightstand, Puck decided to ruffle his hair. The. hair. Even if it is already messed up it is the hair. He turns a murderous, wide eyed stare to Puck, slowly like something straight from a horror flick.

"Could you put this over there for me?" The pleasantly smiling teen asks, oblivious to the death glare and still flipping channels while holding his coffee in front of Kurt. Kurt gladly places the drink away from his bed because there is to be no spills on his bed, none! You just can't treat memory foam that way okay? He schooled his expression in to one of calmness as he turned onto his side to face the other, curled his legs up to his chest and kicked out.

"Ow! What the hell?" Puck rolled away from the assault, sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling on the floor to be pissed at a safe distance. Not that he needs to be worried because he can totally hold his own against Kurt if need be but what the hell man? What was that for? He rubbed his abused side.

"You threw my hair into such a disarray."

"Well sorry I 'threw your hair into such a disarray,'" insert eye roll, "but it was already jacked up and I was nice enough to not even comment on it when I came in. It's just hair, you didn't have to kick me off the damn bed." Kurt kind of felt bad now about that as he watched the other. Kind of.

"It's not just hair. It is a part of me, something I take pride in and devote time to." Puck doesn't look like he empathizes. "Fine, cut off your mohawk."

"Hell no-Oh. Okay I guess I kinda get it but I can never touch it? Like never?" Not cool. Of course he could touch it by force, just seems like it would turn out more complicated than enjoyable. How is he not going to touch when they get around to doing it though?

Kurt seemed thoughtful for a moment, but then his nose scrunched up and he went to reach for a tissue that he didn't even use seeing as the urge to sneeze mysteriously vanished. Once the unused tissue was draped over the tissue box, he brought a hand up to test out the craziness of his hair.

"Fine," was sighed out in defeat. "Since it is already a mess, you can touch it now." Oh the sacrifices he makes.

The bed under him slightly dips down under Puck's weight even with memory foam because of how close the jock sits to his half laying form followed by an intense stare at his hair.

"It's not a Rubik's Cube," he lazily states.

"Hey, this is a big step in our relationship. Actually, this is a big step for man kind."

"And I'm the drama queen," Kurt mutters in response to the other's seriousness.

Cautiously, a hand is placed on top of his head followed by the twirling of a finger around a lock of his hair. The heaviness of more fingers can be made out as they boldly slide through his hair and pull up, trying to make it stand up ridiculously no doubt. Kurt tries to focus on the insane infomercial about those outrageous Snuggie monstrosities but the continued stroking of his hair is dominating his mind and is allowing him to know exactly what a dog feels. There is a comforting quality about it.

"Your hair is really soft."

"I did say I devote time to it. I put work into this hair."

Puck seemed to be done exploring the unknown, it being the only time Kurt has had is hair so thoroughly mapped out, and sweet Alexander McQueen! A tan arm slings itself around his shoulders and pulls him close so Puck's left pec is now his pillow. He can tell his eyes are wide and his cheeks are dusted red and that he needs to relax., ths is casual, this is good, this is...a lot like cuddling.

"Um, you good?" Kurt figures he should ask in case Puck isn't comfortable.

"Nope, nervous as fuck." Puck blurts out, causing Kurt to look up and focus his attention on him.

"Really?" He's not alone! "Why?"

"Is it like the same with guys as it is girls? I know girls like this kind of thing but I'm kinda waitin' for you to start telling me how you're not a chick." Knowing that the usually confident jock is second guessing something makes him feel more at ease so he shift and rest more comfortably against Puck's side.

"No this is nice...I'm going to sneeze."

The body next to and slightly under him tenses and the arm leaves his shoulders.

"Sneeze the other way, sneeze the other way," Puck panicked, making shooing motions with his hands, even the one still holding the TV remote. Kurt laughed.

"Calm down, I'm joking, I would never sneeze on someone." The slender boy's new pillow loosened and they settled back into contentment.

"That was messed up." Kurt wanted to laugh again at the traces of a pout in that statement.

"Just find something to watch."

The rapidly changing channels finally settled on a familiar show and they simultaneously said:

"I love Criminal Minds"/"Criminal Minds kicks ass"

They happily watched television until it hit Puck.

"Oh yeah, Azimio saw us on Wednesday."

"What."

I am so serious about being addicted to that show. Darn you psychotic criminals and the group of unreasonably pretty people who get into their minds and catch them!

*I have no idea if a loose distributor cap would cause a vehicle to not start. I know a few things about cars but not much:'(

**Come on Batman? Yellow? Really? Why not black?