(Author's note: warning for angst and more angst, and some unexpected angst. -amy and penthea)


The truck seemed a lot smaller on the way back to Columbus on Sunday morning, especially with the radio on and Puck's incessant talking about every little fucking thing. Dave didn't get why he didn't just think about these things instead of saying them out loud.

He glanced across the cab at Dave in the passenger seat. "So you ready for tomorrow morning? Prep work to do, that kind of thing?"

"Yeah. Why?" He didn't even care that he'd answered an either-or question with yes, it wasn't like Puck was really listening.

"I don't know, I thought maybe we could catch a movie. Besides math and Disney, what's your genre of choice? I'm kind of an action adventure guy, but I can go with intrigue or -"

Dave sighed. "Look, I... I have work to do for my own classes too, all right? I'm still a student."

"Hey, it's no problem. I could go to the library or whatever." He fiddled with the radio, switching stations.

Dave tried to breathe. He really didn't want to say something he'd regret later, but he was starting to feel itchy and annoyed and everything was too loud. He reached out and turned off the radio, almost pushing Puck's hand out of the way. "You can go wherever you want. You don't have to ask my permission first."

Puck grew very still. His hands on the steering wheel flexed, his knuckles white. When he spoke, his voice was mild. "Okay, man. How about I drop you off at your house? I have some shit I need to take care of anyway."

Dave thought maybe he should be worried about that, or something, but all he felt was relief. An empty, quiet house sounded really good right now.

The rest of the ride essentially passed in silence. Dave didn't know if Puck was thinking or merely not talking, but it kind of didn't matter to him right at that moment. When they got to the house, Puck opened the back for him and Dave got his bike out on his own.

"See you in class," Puck said, and slammed the hatch closed. Dave watched him as he climbed back into the truck and pulled out of the driveway without another word. He didn't seem angry, though, or worried, so Dave didn't try to stop him or say goodbye. It was a little weird, sure, but Puck didn't seem to have a problem speaking his mind most of the time. If he seemed okay, Dave would take him at face value.

Pascal was winding around his legs, looking for love, or at least food, when he came in the door. Dave's guilt came to the forefront and he picked him up, petting his head and scratching his chest and neck.

"No, he went home," he said. "Don't worry. He'll be back. Soon."

Puck didn't call him that night. Dave finished all his homework for his other classes, did his prep work for Monday and watched an episode of Mythbusters, and even then it was only nine o'clock. He finished his prep for Thursday as well and tried to read ahead in his complex analysis coursepack, but eventually he gave up and went to bed. He was exhausted, anyway, after a weekend of staying up late and waking early.

Dave sprawled out on the mattress, suddenly conscious of how much space there was around him. He tossed and turned, moving from the side to the middle and even lying diagonally for a while before finally ending up in his usual place. At some point Pascal tiptoed in and settled into a remote bundle at the foot of the bed. That made things feel a little more normal, but he still didn't fall asleep.

"You cold?" he asked Pascal at one point, but he wasn't responding. Dave considered getting up to get a second blanket, but eventually he just went to sleep.

Puck was the third student in the door Monday morning, but aside from a brief nod, he didn't communicate with Dave at all. Dave tried to focus on his teaching, but whenever he would turn around to face the class, he found himself looking for some eye contact from Puck, just a sign, something to let him know that everything was normal - or as normal as things had been for the past week, anyway. Puck appeared to be listening and taking notes, but he didn't raise his hand, and he didn't look at Dave once.

Dave supposed he couldn't complain. Wasn't this what he'd wanted from Puck all along: for him to keep their relationship out of the classroom? And if Puck needed to avoid his eyes to do it, didn't Dave owe it to him to respect that? He finished the class a few minutes early. Everything went a little faster without Puck's actually meaningful questions, or his answers, always a little more complicated than Dave had asked for. It made the other students seem a bit slow. He sighed. "I think that's it for today. Please try to read chapter five before our next class, so we can clear up any questions then. See you on Thursday."

Puck packed up his notebook and text and slung his backpack over his shoulder, walking to the back of the lecture hall and heading out the rear door. Dave wasn't about to follow him, or call after him, and he wasn't expecting Puck to bring him coffee again or anything like that, but it seemed strange for Puck not to at least say good morning after the things they'd done all weekend together.

Nobody showed up for Dave's office hours. The rest of his morning passed uneventfully, and Dave was surprised to discover it was nearly lunchtime.

He did all the things he usually did, trying to get back in touch with real life. He'd thought that getting away from Puck would clear his head, and it had, in a way, but it didn't really seem to be helping. He'd thought that Puck being away would let him get some perspective on what had happened, maybe he'd see more clearly from a bit of a distance, but it turned out it was almost impossible to recall his feelings from yesterday once they weren't there, like trying to remember in January what uncomfortably hot sunshine felt like. He thought about Puck all the time, and it made him angry, how Puck had taken away Dave's old comfortable reality and replaced it with his own. And it might not even matter that he liked that one, because just as he'd been afraid of, when Puck wasn't there he took it with him and Dave was left with nothing.

He was frustrated by how hard it was to get back into his routine. It didn't make any sense, considering he'd been doing all the same things for at least a year: going to work, riding his bike, shopping, relaxing at home, eating three meals. Going to bed. The only difference was, he was aware now that he was doing them alone. But alone was fine; alone was easy and comfortable. Alone meant you didn't have to answer anybody else when they talked, or listen when they said something. Alone was not having to worry about anyone's opinion but your own; alone was no disappointed looks and no pointed questions.

Monday evening felt a lot like Sunday evening. He got all his work done, took care of everything he needed to do for the next day, and then watched the clock creep inexorably toward bedtime. It got there, albeit very, very slowly. He almost called Puck, but he changed his mind. He still didn't know what was going on, who he even was anymore, and talking to Puck now would be like giving in and going back to the start. Besides, Puck hadn't seemed like he wanted to talk to him.

Tuesday he felt a little bit more like himself, but there was still something missing, there was no denying the Puck-shaped hole in his life that hadn't been there a few days ago. Dave had worked damn hard for his structural integrity, he didn't need any more holes, and if it was this bad after a few days, how would he function after weeks or months? Fuck. He went for a long bike ride, trying to tire himself out enough to make his brain shut up. It didn't really work, so he stayed up late just for the hell of it, watching movies on the couch with Pascal. Just for a change in routine. The only thing it did was make him tired and cranky the next day.

Wednesday he saw a bunch of kids playing field hockey in the park on his bike ride, and he stopped and watched them for twenty minutes before continuing on his way. When he got home, he collapsed on the couch, just lying there and breathing with his eyes closed until Pascal interrupted his panicking by laying down on his chest.

Dave lifted his head an inch and dropped it again, stroking Pascal's back. "I know, I'm being useless. Sorry, buddy." Pascal meowed in agreement. "See, you haven't known me long enough to tell, but when I care too much about what other people think, I kind of suck. I do better when it's just me. And you, I guess, cats are okay. I don't know why. It's not like you don't judge me."

Pascal didn't comment.

"So now I have a boyfriend, apparently, except maybe I don't anymore, because I fucked up and we haven't talked for days. Yeah, I know. I can't, okay? Fuck, I have no idea."

He finally managed to get off the couch and into the shower. He was hungry, but dinner was too much work, so he ate some cottage cheese on toast and called it a day. Pascal watched him skeptically from the counter. Dave rolled his eyes at him. "Dude, you eat cat food." Pascal seemed to concede that point, and they went to bed.

He woke up in the middle of the night from a really interesting dream that involved fractals, but when he tried to remember the details, it receded into hazy memory, and then disappeared altogether, leaving him feeling oddly wistful. And turned on, but he knew how to take care of that.


Puck didn't show up for class on Thursday morning. Dave kept glancing around the classroom, thinking he must have just missed him, and he was hidden behind another student - never mind there were only eighteen in the class - but no, he really wasn't there. In a way, Dave barely felt like he was there, himself, his mind racing with unfortunate possibilities and disturbing images: Puck sick in bed, Puck stranded on the side of the road, Puck hanging upside-down from his seat belt with blood streaming from the jagged, ugly contusion on his scalp.

He got through the class somehow, unable to pretend he cared about isomorphisms or the operations they preserved, because either something bad had happened, or Dave had chased him away.

Dave didn't really even think about what he was doing until he'd placed the call and he heard the answering ring, and then Puck was saying, "Uh, hang on a second."

"Are you okay? You weren't in class, so I thought..." He didn't finish the sentence. Now that he heard Puck's voice, obviously alive and well, his visions of traffic accidents and hospitals seemed really stupid. He probably just hadn't wanted to see Dave. And who could blame him?

"Yeah, I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm over in the registrar's office right now."

"The registrar's office? Why?" Dave thought he could guess, but he hoped he was wrong. This was exactly what he'd been afraid of.

"I figured it might just be easier if I changed courses. I mean..." He cleared his throat. "I don't want it to be a problem. For you."

"For me? What are you talking about, for me? I'm not the one - God, Puck, I'm so sorry I didn't call, please don't - just, wait, and let me talk to you first. We can...this shouldn't keep you from taking the class."

Puck sounded tired and irritated. "Look, Dave, it's not a big deal. It's fine if this didn't work out. You don't have to say anything else."

Dave took a deep breath. "Yeah, I think I do. I mean, if you - if you don't want me to be anything other than your teacher, I can do that, but it kind of seemed like - I need to apologize, either way. I needed some space, and I should have told you that. Not just disappeared." He paused. Puck wasn't responding, but better to just get it out before he lost his nerve. "Look, I guess it's my turn to - I'll make this really clear. I want this to work out. I was overwhelmed, and I needed some space, but I want to see you again. As more than your teacher." He took another break to breathe. "And I'm still really, really sorry, and I was hoping you'd give me the chance to tell you in person. If you...if you can still do that. So...yeah."

It hit him suddenly that Puck was probably still standing in the registrar's office, maybe trying to talk to someone else, and Dave had just talked at him without even bothering to ask if it was a good time or if he wanted to hear it. At least Puck hadn't hung up on him, but that might just be shock.

"Dave... um. I don't really know what... I mean, yeah, I do. I do want that."

Dave closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, finally coming down from the adrenaline rush. "You do?" he whispered into the phone. "Can we...can we talk? When you're done?"

"I think I'm done now. For now, anyway. But... what the fuck, Dave? I figured you were -" Dave heard a small, frustrated noise, and it didn't sound like Puck at all. "I mean, what was that? Three days of nothing? Did I do something, say something... ?"

"No. God, no. You were just...I mean...I don't know if I can do this over the phone. Can I meet you outside the building or something?"

"Yeah... yeah, that's fine. I'm parked outside Chubb Hall. I'll meet you at my truck in a few minutes."

"Yeah, okay. I'm going over there now." Dave had already started walking.

"Are you..." Puck's voice dropped, hoarse and uncertain. "Are we okay?"

Dave slowed down, trying to catch his breath. He had no fucking idea if he was okay, but he really wanted Puck to be. "Yeah. I mean, if you want...we'll be okay. Just...two minutes." He walked faster. He'd be shaking if he tried to stand still, his hands already were, and he didn't know how far away Puck might be, but he didn't want him to have to wait. He'd waited long enough.

"Okay. I'll be there." He hung up.

Somehow being on the phone was easier, because as soon as their call ended, Dave started thinking again. He didn't exactly know where it had started, but clearly something had gone very, very wrong. What if this happened again? How was Puck going to ever trust him to stick around now? Maybe he shouldn't. He wasn't equipped to deal with a relationship.

He turned the corner.

Puck was leaning against the side of his truck, arms crossed, examining a spot in the sidewalk with the toe of his shoe.

Dave walked over to him. He wasn't sure what to do, didn't know if he trusted himself to do anything at all without going way too far for a public sidewalk. Then Puck looked up and saw him, and his eyes softened, and a tiny smile crossed his lips. He dropped his arms and took a step forward. "Hey," he said.

He couldn't...but of all the things he couldn't, leaving Puck there like that was somehow more impossible. He stepped closer, and his arms went around Puck's waist to...he didn't know what they were doing there, he didn't even know how that happened.

Puck's eyes were intense on his face, watching him as he drew near, and as Dave's hands made contact, he let out a long, soft sigh. His eyelids dropped closed.

Dave stood there feeling his warm back under his hands, and after what felt like a long time but was probably only a second, he looked up. "Hey."

Puck's breathing was ragged, and Dave could feel him shaking under his skin, but his eyes were dry. He tipped his forehead forward, and Dave did the same, until they were touching. "I don't really know how, like, maybe you live in a region with different fucking gravitational potential or something, but... those three days? Longer than ten years. Let's never do that again, okay?"

Dave pulled him closer, moving his hand up to get a better grip, to feel that he was solid, to hold him together. "Never again, I promise. God, I'm so sorry."

"You sure? Cause I don't know if I can -" He choked off the rest. Then he added, almost angrily, "I mean, dude, if you're gonna break up with me, at least call me and do it. I don't want to be hanging out there, thinking - Fuck."

"I know. I'm sure. If I ever..." he stroked Puck's back, almost wanting to laugh because this was horrible, and it was perfect, and this was the least romantic promise and by far the biggest he had ever made to anyone. "If I ever, I can't believe I'm saying this, if I ever need to...I'll call you. I mean, I won't, but...damn. I will never just leave you. I promise."

Puck touched Dave's neck, right at the collar of his shirt, with one finger. His voice was low and full of confusion. "I tried not to make it a big deal. I told you it wasn't. But... it was. It is, and that really sucks."

Dave nodded. "Yeah. I know." He sounded the way he felt, weak and useless.

Puck clenched his jaw. "It's a lot harder, because I care if you call back or not. Because it's you. Because you matter, okay?" He shook his head. "I don't fucking know what to do with that."

"Okay." Dave lifted his hand to touch him, then dropped it again. "Shit. Me too." Puck looked kind of close to breaking, and Dave had no idea what to do, because he was coming up against his own limitations here. Maybe if they could at least get off the street. He gestured at the truck. "You want to take this somewhere else? Like my house? Are you okay to drive?"

Puck gave him a scornful look and pulled away. "Yeah, I can fucking drive, Karofsky."

The name hung between them in the air, like a slap. They just stared at each other for a moment.

He could have been pissed. He wanted to, but he was so afraid of what would happen if he did, if that would be the final break that couldn't be fixed. Dave let his shoulders drop and looked away. "Okay, great. You ready to go?" He started walking around to the passenger side without waiting for an answer. He was about to get in when he remembered that the door didn't open from the outside. Shit. Thank God he'd thought of that before he tried to pull it open.

Puck climbed into the cab and sat there in the driver's seat, staring at his hands. Then he reached across and opened the door for Dave.

Okay, that was good. He climbed in and glanced over at Puck. "Thanks," he mumbled, low enough that it might just have been a loud breath, Puck might not even have heard him.

Puck had never been good at hiding his feelings. Even when Dave couldn't tell exactly what they were, he could see them there, right on the surface. Right now he looked like he was in physical pain. But he was also clearly pissed, and Dave wasn't sure how to deal with both of those at the same time.

Finally he let out a loud sigh and turned the key in the ignition. "Tell me where."

Dave was silent. He'd said it once, so Puck asking again might mean no. But where the hell else would they go? This really wasn't a conversation to have around other people. "My house? You know where it is."

"You sure you want me there?"

Dave looked down. Of course Puck wouldn't want to be stuck on his home ground. "Yeah. But if you don't want to, I get that. No problem."

He hit the steering wheel. The impact was loud in the cab, and Dave flinched. "Yes, it's a fucking problem," Puck shouted. "It's a big problem. Because I want to. I want to way fucking too much."

Oh. Yeah, okay, that was a problem, or at least that reaction was, but it wasn't the one he'd expected and he had no idea what to do with hurt, angry Puck yelling about wanting things to much. Damn, this was hard. "And what the fuck do you want me to do about that?" He dropped his head into his hands.

"Nothing. You don't have to do anything." He shot Dave one hurt glance. "I can take care of myself."

No. Shit, that wasn't how this was supposed to go. Dave straightened up and grabbed his arm. "No. No, listen to me. You want this too much? You don't think I don't? Why the hell do you think I didn't talk to you for three days?"

He jerked his arm away. "Because this is way too much work for you. Because I'm a fucking mess, Dave. You don't want to deal with this. Trust me."

Dave stared at him. None of it was untrue. None of it mattered, even a little bit. "Why don't you let me decide what I want to deal with or not."

Puck shook his head in irritation. "No. It doesn't work that way. I'm not a fucking girl, sitting around waiting for you to call me. I've got my own life. You don't get to play with my - it isn't your decision, Dave."

Why, why, why hadn't he understood what a big fucking mistake that had been. "I know you do, that's why I just promised you never, ever to do it again. And if you want to believe that, if you want to take that chance, that's totally your call. You get to say no, any time."

Puck closed his eyes and sighed. "Yeah. I know." He pulled out of his parking space and edged the truck into traffic. Everything seemed okay. He wasn't going too fast. Puck was just... cold. Dave watched him drive out of the corner of his eye.

Puck had good reasons to be mad at him. He'd been an idiot. And just because Dave wanted - and God, did he want - if he wanted to hold him and kiss him and keep him safe, if he'd take him with all his fucked up everything and try his very, very best, even if it wasn't enough - that didn't mean he had the right, or that Puck had to let him. He'd told him he could say no, and he'd meant it, and Puck had made it clear he wasn't a fucking girl for Dave to take care of. Yes, he was pissed that Puck thought he could tell him not to want that - and also, ridiculously, cruelly, it made him want it even more - but he got it. It was a stupid fucking reason, but he understood.

He bit his lip and kept quiet until they were pulling up in front of his house.

They stopped in Dave's driveway and Puck climbed out of the truck. Dave got out on the other side, and they met in front of the door. Puck was shifting from foot to foot like he didn't even know if he wanted to be there, but at least he still was. That had to count for something. Dave unlocked the door and opened it, waiting, wanting Puck to step inside by himself. Prove to me that you want to be here. Give me a sign that this is okay. He didn't, though, so eventually Dave walked through the door himself, giving it a little push to keep it open behind him. Puck followed. Thank God.

There wasn't a lot of light in the hallway, and Puck was standing there looking small and lost and not at all the way he had the last time they'd been here. Dave couldn't take it anymore. Please forgive me, he thought. Please give him the strength to push me away. Please don't let him want to. He pulled Puck into his arms, one hand around his head and the other on his back, whispering against the soft skin of his neck, and he didn't even know what he was saying, but it had something to do with please and sorry and never again.

And Puck, Puck was shaking all over, taking great big breaths and choking them out and starting again. He didn't seem to be able to say anything at all, but his hands clung to Dave, tight and desperate, and he buried his face in Dave's chest. Dave's shirt was warm and wet where Puck's cheeks brushed against him.

Dave didn't know if that meant he was doing the right thing, or if he'd broken him, or what, but either way he had him here, now, falling apart in his arms. And it wasn't that he wanted that, he'd never want Puck to hurt like that, and even less be the one to cause it, but still, in a guilty corner of his mind he was a little bit grateful that it was his chest Puck was crying into, that he'd let Dave see this, that he needed him. He moved his arms to the outside of Puck's, keeping them pinned down between them so he could hold all of him at once.

Puck made a low moan and twisted in Dave's grip, pressing his body full against him, and Dave could feel exactly how turned on he was. "You're completely fucking insane for wanting this, Dave," he muttered. "Why would you - god, you don't deserve this."

It hadn't been about that, but then Puck was pushing against him and his perspective shifted and it completely, absolutely was. And what did Puck mean he didn't deserve this, he was right, but not the way he meant it. Damn. He pulled Puck closer, so he couldn't even move, because he needed to hear this, and bent down towards his ear. "You have no idea, do you? You're way better than anything I deserve, and so what if I'm insane, if you're letting me have this? I'm taking it."

He didn't want to let Puck go even for a moment, but he needed his hands, because Puck was still burying his face in Dave's neck. He slid his hands up to Puck's shoulders, gripping those firmly for just a moment as if to say I'm still here, and then he took his head in both hands, splayed them out and grabbed his face, tilting it up so he could see him. Puck's eyes were big and dark, his cheeks still a little wet. He was the most gorgeous gut-wrenching thing Dave had ever seen. He kissed one cheekbone, then the other. It tasted salty.

"Puck. Noah." There was a question there, and probably some kind of a confession, too, only he couldn't get any of it out. It didn't matter, though, because Puck seemed to know, and he nodded, a tiny jerk upwards that Dave felt through his hands more than he really saw it. And that was enough, that was all he needed. He bent his knees so he could catch Puck's mouth from below, he didn't know why that mattered, but it did, and pulled him up into a deep, possessive kiss.

And then Puck was kissing him back, almost desperately, moaning into his mouth and twisting and grabbing and thrusting and generally not staying still for one damn second. Dave let his hands fall from Puck's face down to his hips, keeping them steady without allowing them too far away from his own. The effect might have been greater if he hadn't been gasping and obviously struggling to make himself pull away from that absolutely fucking perfect kiss.

"Hey. I've got you, okay? Not going anywhere." As happy as Dave was with what they were doing, it seemed suddenly very important that Puck knew that. That he didn't have to grasp at Dave like he was the last lifeboat and might go down any moment. Once they were clear on that, he could go back to clinging, that would be fine, but for now...he held Puck tight against his body and kissed his face, needing to calm the wild look in his eyes down to something just hungry, except maybe that was impossible, he really had no damn clue, this was all instinct and he just hoped that would somehow be enough. He took a deep breath. No turning back now, no need to turn back, he had Puck in his arms and melting against his chest, so obviously needy that whatever Dave could give him must be better than nothing, and if that wasn't permission he was never going to get it.

"Puck. It's okay. We're okay. And unless you tell me to stop, I'm going to take you upstairs now and do all the things to you that I couldn't stop thinking about all fucking week."

Puck just looked at him, wide-eyed.

Dave managed a half smile, despite the weight of whatever the hell he was doing here. "Blink once for yes, twice for no? Come on, give me something."

Puck tried to reply, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Dave... god, yes. A whole lot of yes. I'm not telling you to stop." He closed his eyes. "I won't ever tell you that."

Dave took him in his arms again and kissed him and kissed him and he'd never get enough of kissing him, but he needed to get him to the bedroom at some point, too, because the hallway was fine and there was a carpet and everything and it would do for sex, but it wasn't really the place to take a beautiful, broken boy, the biggest fucking miracle that ever happened to you, and love him and put him back together, and any parts of Dave that weren't man enough to admit that was what he was doing could just shut the fuck up and go away and let him get this done.

He led Puck up the stairs, and into the bedroom, and sat him down on the edge of the bed. He thought about stopping to extract one last promise from him that he still knew the word no and would use it if he needed to, but he didn't think he'd get anything useful and he just had to trust him, trust himself, that they would be okay.

Puck was watching him, paying careful attention to every little thing that Dave was doing. The wild look was beginning to fade from his eyes, and now it seemed as though he were moving slowly, in a kind of trance. He touched Dave's wrist, his neck, the inside of his elbow, tentatively, as though he might disappear any second. When he put his hands on the hem of his own shirt, beginning to take it off, Dave stopped him.

"Let me do that," he said, and Puck nodded silently.

Dave moved in close and pulled the shirt gently over his head. Once it was off, he threw it aside and focused on Puck, and the skin he'd uncovered. He crawled to kneel behind him, kissed his way down from neck to shoulder, followed the smooth line of the collarbone with his fingers. "Okay?" he murmured, leaning forward against Puck's back and putting his arms around his waist, letting one hand wander a bit up and down his chest.

Dave's breathing was slow and deep now, and with each exhalation he relaxed a little further, folding back into the support of Dave's body. "Yeah," he sighed, reaching back over his shoulder and cupping Dave's head in one hand. "Very okay. Better than okay."

Dave thought about getting his own shirt off, but that would mean letting go of Puck, so it would have to wait a little bit longer. "Okay. Good. I want you to be. God, you're beautiful." He let his hand slide down Puck's abs to unbutton his pants, but he couldn't do it with one hand. He shifted a bit to reach with his other arm. "Hang on." He was suddenly nervous. Like this was the first time he'd ever done that. And of course it wasn't, but somehow it felt like a really, really big deal. It seemed to take forever, but he finally got the button open, and Puck was just allowing this, letting Dave push his pants down and lift him up to get him out of them, and it was clumsy and awkward and somehow still okay.

Puck touched his hand suddenly. "I'm sorry."

Dave stopped what he was doing. "Sorry? About what?"

"You... last week. You told me. You want me to tell you what I want, but I'm... I just want you to do things. To me." He rested his head back on Dave's shoulder and sighed. "So I'm sorry. For being such a -"

"No you're not. I don't even know what you're thinking right now, but you're not." Dave let Puck slide next to him on the bed and propped himself up on one elbow, gazing down at him. "I asked you to tell me what you wanted. And you just did. Thank you." He leaned over to kiss him again. "It's fine. You're amazing. I'd love to do things to you. I just need to know that that's what you want."

"Yes," he whispered, staring up at Dave. "Yes. That's... that's what I want. It's what I always wanted."

Keep breathing, Dave reminded himself. He wanted that, too, he was a little floored by how much he wanted it, and now that he had it, he didn't quite know where to start. He bent down and kissed Puck's neck. "All right. Hang on." He moved down the bed to where Puck's pants and underwear were still tangled around his legs, and pulled them off. Then he got rid of his own clothes, as quickly as possible because Puck was lying there all naked and alone, waiting for him. He got back on the bed and climbed on top of him, covering him with his own body, eliciting a groan from Puck.

"God, why do you feel so incredible?" He ran his hands up Dave's back and across his shoulders. "I don't get it. I just can't get enough of touching you."

Dave didn't really have an answer for that, so he just let him touch, resting his head on the bed above Puck's shoulder. "Yeah. You too. So good." If he turned his head just a little, he could kiss his neck, so he did, little ones at first, but then he got lost in Puck's skin and it was all one messy, aimless, open-mouthed kiss, moving from one perfect spot to another.

Puck's groan transformed into a series of increasingly intense cries, with Dave's name tucked in between them. With each one, his hips thrust up against Dave's, grinding, seeking stimulation. "Holy shit, Dave," he gasped.

Dave never wanted to let go of Puck's neck, but it was hard to ignore the rest of him when it was twisting and grinding against him like that. He put one hand on the bed and the other on Puck's arm, and pushed himself up a little, just enough to look down on his face. "You..." - he was sure there was something he'd been planning to say, or do, but Puck's hips were still moving - "you." That was really all there was, anyway, the only important part.

Puck reached one hand up to grip Dave's shoulder. His eyes were wide, the pupils enormous. "Tell me this is really okay," he begged. "For me to - to want you this much."

And there it was again, that need to just hold him, to wrap him up and keep him safe and never let him go. Dave lowered himself down on one elbow, resting lightly on Puck's chest and cradling his head with his arm. "Yeah. It's okay. You - god, Puck, I want you too. I want you so much. And, I mean - I think - I love you, okay? I think that must be what this is, and I just, I know that's a lot, but...it's so okay."

Dave could feel him shaking again, and he looked up quickly, anxious. Puck squeezed his eyes shut, the tears leaking out around the lids and trailing along his cheekbones toward his ears. His hand came down, fumbling, and landed on Dave's cheek. "You have... no idea... how long I've been wanting to tell you that. And I thought there was no way... Dave." He laughed weakly. "There was no way you were going to handle that. And now - here you are, telling me, and I'm - no, I'm not freaking out, really. It's good. Just give me a second."

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Had he really said that? Yes, he really had, and it was fine, Puck was still here, and so was Dave, and saying it hadn't made it go away, if anything, there was more. He laughed, then put his hand over Puck's, on his own cheek. "Was that a second? Because...like you said, I'm here, and you're here, and I love you." It was kind of amazing, saying it out loud. He threw himself across Puck, planting kisses all over his chest, and this was ridiculous, but nobody was stopping him. "And you're naked. And I love you."

"All right, fuck, man, now I need another second." Puck was still laughing, the tension falling away, and his eyes were crinkling at the corners. "Hearing you say that." He shook his head and chewed on his lip. "I want to say it to you... but..."

"But I'm an idiot. I know." He ran his hand down Puck's side. How had he not known he needed this, how had he thought he could be better off without it?

"No, babe." Puck tugged Dave down on top of him, until they were nose to nose. "I want you inside me when I say it."

Dave rested his forehead on Puck's, trying to remember to keep breathing. "Fuck. Yes."

Shit, he'd have to move, wouldn't he? He was holding Puck's head in his hands again. Because that was where it belonged. He sat up to straddle him, waiting until the last possible moment to let go, dragging his fingers along his skin. Puck leaned into his touch, smiling, his eyes closed.

So then of course Dave had to lean down and kiss him again. "Be right back," he whispered, stretching himself across the bed to reach the nightstand in a move that was really, really inefficient, but allowed at least his legs to still touch Puck. God, what was wrong with him. He got himself back on top of him, needing that physical contact, because obviously sitting up, even if it was actually on Puck, was way too far away. Judging by his noises of satisfaction when Dave returned, Puck agreed with him.

Dave moved slowly down his body, still lying on top of him, still not giving up a single square inch of skin. He kissed Puck's chin, and his throat, and the dip between his collar bones, and in between he mouthed the embarrassing things he couldn't quite say yet into his skin, maybe they'd seep through the muscle and bone to his heart somehow, and damn, that was sappy, but he didn't even care. "You're beautiful," he whispered, "and I'm so sorry."

"God," murmured Puck, arching his back into Dave's kisses. "I just want you so much. And - I get why you needed some space. I'll try to be more careful about making sure you get that. I'm not trying to take over your life here. I just want to be part of it, you know?"

Dave was holding him, hugging his torso and talking to his breastbone and the last thing he wanted in the whole world was space, but he understood, in a remote corner of his brain, that he might again at some point. Much, much later. "You will be. I want you to be. I'll always want to come back to you."

Dave felt Puck's hands stroking his back, his neck. "I'll always be waiting for you." He chuckled. "I kind of feel like I've been doing that, all this time. Waiting for you."

He laid his head sideways on Puck's chest, one hand flat on his firm stomach, feeling him breathe. "God, you have no idea." Every step of the way, Puck had been there, even when he hadn't seen him for years, and how hadn't he known. But if he had, what difference would it have made? He would never have believed he was going to get this, for real. He was feeling Puck's heartbeat, right now, and he still didn't quite believe it.

"I think I kind of do. I've thought it for years. But it's... god, it's just not something you say out loud. 'You're a nice enough person, but I think I'm in love with this one guy I made out with once in seventh grade, and you're not him, so I'm moving on?' Fuck. No." He laughed. "Who's going to believe that?"

Dave smiled. "No. I know." He looked up at Puck. "But you really thought that? You were... in love with me?" It wasn't fair to ask, he knew that, but he couldn't help himself.

He felt Puck's shrug. "I don't know - I mean, how much of that shit do you really know when you're thirteen? All I know is I kept looking for - that. The thing we had. I wanted more of... that. Of this. I just didn't know where to find it." He shook his head, clearly amused. "I'm such a dumbass. I mean, here you are."

Dave reached up to touch his cheek. "Hey. You're not. I'm here now, and I'm not letting you get away with that."

Puck looked confused. "With... with what?"

"Saying you're a dumbass. You're not, you're not stupid; you're smart and gorgeous and amazing and you're mine, and I'm not allowing anyone to call you that, not even you."

Dave watched Puck move through startled to alarmed, and finally to stunned. He licked his lips. "Uh. Okay?" He smiled hesitantly. "Really?"

Dave had to stop for a moment and think back, going over what he'd actually said. But he didn't find a single word he hadn't meant. "Uh, yes. Really. I mean..." He was about to ask Puck if that was okay with him, but something told him not to leave even that little bit of uncertainty. "No, I really mean that. Every word."

There was no fear left in Puck's eyes. Whatever anxiety he'd been feeling had apparently receded before the tide of raw emotion that was flowing between the two of them. Dave thought it could have easily have felt silly and trite, but it didn't, not even a little bit.

"I think... I'm not even sure if I should want that." He gazed down at Dave, eyes shining. "But I guess I do. And if you want it, too, then that's... that's okay, right?"

Dave kissed him, pretty much just pressing his mouth down for a moment right where he was, and stroked his cheek again. "I told you. Yes. It's okay. Anything you want, it's okay. It's perfect."

Puck nodded, blinking. "Okay. I guess I'll have to trust you on that one."

Dave looked at him. He wasn't even sure what it was he was doing, here, what exactly it was that was such a huge deal for Puck that he reacted like that now. He'd already told him he loved him, wasn't this just part of that, just more of the same? "Yeah, you will. Because I love you, and I want you, and you're mine."

He couldn't resist throwing that in there, because of that amazing response it seemed to elicit from Puck: eyes wide, rocking back and trembling. "Fuck," he muttered.

Dave shook his head. "Puck, you're everything I ever wanted, you're more, how could it not be okay?"

"Because." Puck screwed up his face in concentration, as though Dave were some kind of really complicated algebraic structure. "Because," he said at last, "all my life, people have been telling me it's not okay for me to want that. It's not something you want, if you're... a guy like me."

Dave still didn't completely know what they were talking about, and talking hadn't really been the plan, but he felt like he had to get this first, if he was going to do right by Puck. It seemed important. He gathered Puck in his arms again, holding him steady. Damn, he loved that feeling, shoulders and arms and all of him completely encircled by Dave. How Dave could hold all of him, how that broad back was contained by his hands, how he was big and strong and powerful, and when he went so small under him, Dave knew it was something he chose.

He held Puck's gaze. "Puck. What? Tell me. What exactly is it you want that you think you shouldn't have? Or want, or whatever?"

Puck was absolutely still, held fast in the container of Dave's arms. He hesitated, and Dave said again, insistently, "Tell me."

"Having you, telling me that," Puck said. "Being all those things you said. It's like you really think them - that I'm smart, and gorgeous, and amazing. And... and yours." He closed his eyes.

"Puck. Of course I really think them. I don't - I really don't say that kind of thing. You know that. So when I do...I mean it."

"You see me," he whispered. "You see... all of me. Even the shit I'm not proud of, and somehow you... you turn it all into something amazing. It's like I'm not even the same person, when you look at me. I'm, like the person I always wanted to be." He gave his head a little baffled shake. "How do you do that?"

"I don't need to do anything. I just look at you, and there you are. And you're pretty fucking amazing."

"I want to be," he said, eyes still closed. "I want to be all the things you see. I just don't know... sometimes I can't be sure I'm just not doing a really good job at faking you out. Not like I mean to - I'm not trying to lie to you."

Dave kissed his cheek. "Shhh. I know. You're not. Hey, look at me." Puck's eyes opened, startled, and he gazed at Dave in silence. "Babe, you can't fake those things. It doesn't work that way."

Puck swallowed, shaking his head, but Dave just smiled at him. "You're going to be fine. I'll take care of everything."

He put a little gentle pressure on Puck's shoulder, pushing him flat on the bed, and Puck watched him as he stroked a path from his neck, down his chest to his stomach, and lower. Puck's eyelids fluttered closed, but Dave said, "No - keep your eyes open. I want you to be right here, with me, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Puck said, but he looked a little nervous.

It was still a little surprising to Dave that Puck actually wanted him to touch him this way, but he really didn't seem to have a problem with it. On the contrary, it was definitely getting a positive reaction from him. Dave watched as Puck spread his legs wide, wrapping them around Dave's, and pulled him in close.

"This is what I want," said Dave. "You know that, right?"

He was pleased to see Puck smile. "Yeah, I can kind of tell."

There was no question whether or not either of them was enjoying what they were doing. Dave shook his head. "That's not what I meant." He managed to get the cap off the lube and made himself slick without losing Puck's gaze. "I want this with you. For real." Like there was any way to do this and not have it be real. "Not just, you know...this." He touched two slippery fingers between Puck's legs, and reveled in the sound of his gasp.

"Definitely this, though, right?" Puck asked breathlessly.

Dave smiled. "Yes. Definitely this."

This had been so scary, the last time, too much in every way, Puck too close and everything too real. And now it just seemed right, like he could look into Puck's eyes and know that he'd already seen him, and been seen back, and there was no detail of their naked bodies that could be too much after that. As much as it was shaking him up, he wanted it, he wanted to get used to this. Even before he'd really done it, he knew he'd want to do it again. He wanted every step on the way, from these new and magical, reverent touches, to one day, hopefully, easy and comfortable and no less amazing, because he could never imagine being tired of this.

Dave replaced his fingers with his body, pressing into Puck a little at a time, and it was perfect, it was just exactly right. "Right here," he whispered. "This is where I want to be."

Puck's response to this was incredible. Dave felt him open up to him, all at once, and with a tremendous sigh, he was inside him completely. "God, Dave." Puck's voice was broken, but he was smiling. "I love you so much."

Dave looked down at him, stunned. He knew, he'd been promised, he didn't think it would be so different hearing the actual words, but it was. "Love you too," he finally managed.

It wasn't the first time Dave had done this, of course, but all of a sudden it really was. Because this was the first time that he, Dave, had ever made love to another man. A man with whom he was in love.

And the big, obvious difference, he thought, was how much he wanted to keep his eyes open, how much it wasn't just about losing himself in the sensations. It was losing himself in Puck, specifically. He couldn't stop watching, and he had never cared much for keeping the lights on but he was ridiculously grateful, now, for the daylight, for the way it hit Puck's skin and his eyes and fell across the sheets and let Dave know exactly, precisely where he was and what he was doing. And it wasn't a problem anymore, being seen, when he so obviously was right where he needed to be.