(Authors' note: Warnings for mild hurt/comfort and... I'm not even sure, certainly Dave and Puck wouldn't have a word for it, but it feels a little edgy to them. But really, if you're bothered by anything that smacks of D/s, you shouldn't be reading my fic. I would estimate another three chapters, possibly more. Enjoy! -Penthea and amy)
Dave seldom got hangovers, but the next morning he did feel a little blurred, like someone had dragged a wet finger across him and his margins were a little uncertain. He ate breakfast without any trouble, though he didn't see Vincent anywhere.
While he was finishing his coffee and working on the Times Saturday crossword, his phone rang.
"I like this business of being in the same time zone," Kurt said, by way of greeting. "It means I can harass you first thing in the morning. Guess what I received this morning."
"Uh..." Nothing Dave could think of would be particularly good, unless... "You didn't get flowers, did you?"
Kurt sounded a little condescending. "No, David, I didn't get flowers. Although it wouldn't be the end of the world if I did. No, I am the proud owner of one drunk email written by - wait for it - our mutual friend Vincent."
Dave leaned his forehead into his hand. "He didn't."
"Oh, yes, he certainly did. And it's priceless." Kurt was far too gleeful. This does not bode well. "Here, let me share some choice tidbits with you."
"Uh, Kurt, I don't think Vincent would -" He paused. "Okay, yeah, he totally would. Go ahead."
"Dear Kurt," he said, in an affected voice that sounded absolutely nothing like Vincent, "it's been four hours and six drinks since I saw you last. I hope this email isn't too forward, but I type better drunk than I speak, if you can believe that. Dave said I could find your email address if I searched hard enough. You've been in the news a lot, Kurt Hummel. I think I read three articles and several reviews of your student project - all good, believe me - before I found anything personal."
"That's not bad," Dave said, grinning. "I think he did better than I did with Puck last night. I get all stupid and single-minded when I'm drunk."
"Just keep listening, David. I'm thrilled to have met you, Kurt, and I hope you know I don't do things like this very often, but you're just amazing." Kurt couldn't quite get the last words out without snorting. "He waxes eloquent about my fashion sense and exquisite style, but you probably don't need to hear that."
"Yeah, probably not." A movement caught Dave's eye, and he looked up in time to see Vincent waving at him from the front of the restaurant. He really wasn't sure how to say I can't talk now, my best friend's reading me your drunk email in sign language, but he tried his hardest. Vincent came over anyway. He gave Dave a quizzical look as he slid into the chair across from him. Dave tried to stay cool and not hide his face in his hand.
"Oh, listen to this. I don't think I've ever met another man who clearly cared about Barcelona as much as I do. It's where my heart is, and I can tell yours lives there too. Maybe they can meet and have coffee there sometime?" He was making it very difficult for Dave to sit there with a straight face, the way Kurt was giggling so hard, not to mention Vincent's innocent expression as he buttered a muffin.
"Should I go?" Vincent said, clearly not planning to leave anytime soon.
Dave shook his head, but when he looked at Vincent to try to tell him it was fine, he could stay, it was impossible to keep himself from laughing. After a few seconds, though, he was able to stop enough to tell Kurt, "Okay, wait, I can't - Vincent's here."
"David!" Kurt sounded completely horrified.
"Well, I didn't conjure him out of nothing. He just showed up." Dave schooled his face. "I'll call you back later."
The expression on Vincent's face had gone from curious to alarmed to mortified in the space of five seconds. "Oh god," he groaned. "That was - "
"That was Kurt," Dave said, grinning. He kept his eyes on the table, though, because as funny as it was, he did feel terrible for Vincent. "Sounds like you found his email address."
"It took me an hour," he admitted. "But I was having trouble reading the screen by that point. God, Dave, maybe you should kill me now."
"Nah," Dave said. "But maybe you should send him flowers."
Vincent buried his face in his hands and didn't answer.
"Look, he was amused, but he doesn't hate you. He's hard to offend permanently, or he'd never be friends with me, right?"
That made Vincent laugh, at least. "Okay, yeah. You know him; I don't. Believe me, I never would have said that stuff if I'd been sober."
Dave stared at him. "Are you kidding? Of course you would have. And you know what? I'm pretty sure Kurt knows it too, and he would be fine with it. I mean, he'd make fun of you, but he'd secretly love it."
"Really?" He looked hopeful.
"Yeah. So don't freak out. It's going to be fine." Dave accepted the check from the waiter and signed his room number.
"Well... I'll definitely plan to stay sober around him for the immediate future. I don't want him to think I only think he's great when I'm seeing him through beer goggles. Or soju goggles." Vincent cocked his head. "Were you being serious about the flowers?"
"Worked on me," Dave shrugged. "Except I doubt Kurt would know what a Fibonacci bouquet was."
Then he had to explain it to Vincent, who oohed and aahed appropriately over the idea. "Your boyfriend sounds like he'd be totally ripe for my undergraduate research program," he said, with some degree of his usual enthusiasm.
Dave nodded. "Yeah, I agree, if I could convince him to try. He has no idea how smart about math he really is."
"Oh, that's no problem. You just have to refer him. It'd be my job to convince him." Vincent smiled. "I can be very convincing."
"I believe you." He grinned. "It would be worth a try, a guess, if I just have to fill out whatever it is you need?"
Vincent promised to email him the necessary files before he left California. "And I'll see you at your presentation this afternoon," he added, pushing out his chair and waving, his smile broad and relaxed. He acted like he'd completely forgotten about his earlier experience with Kurt. Dave wondered what it would be like to be able to let go of something so easily.
Actually giving the presentation was surprisingly easy. He'd probably over-prepared - he had plans for most of the things that could go wrong and an answer for every question he could imagine coming up, but he didn't really need any of them. Dave sighed. It was the same every time - he worried for a week, then was surprised and relieved when, as usual, nothing went wrong.
It was hard not to wonder, after that, walking around the dealers' room - is this my future? Research and presentations and conferences at strange universities, applying for jobs all over the place, because that's just how it would have to be if he wanted to be a professor. He thought he did, he liked the teaching and the research and he'd never felt especially attached to Ohio anyway. It was a place, his parents lived there, he could always come back.
But now, with Puck, maybe it was different. Just leaving Lima for Columbus would be a big step for him, with a business, which, okay, he could probably start again somewhere else, but more importantly, a family. A daughter he couldn't take with him, a mother and a sister that might be fine without him but that Puck surely wouldn't want to leave. And Dave was probably getting way ahead of himself even thinking about it, but the way he'd missed Puck now, for a few days...he couldn't do that for months, years. It wouldn't be fair to anyone. So what if their relationship would probably never last that long anyway. Was it really worth trying, if it was all going to end like that? Even if he thought it was, could he do that to Puck?
Those ideas were in the back of his head for the rest of the day, but the conference was enough of a distraction that he wasn't really thinking about it most of the time. Not until he got to the airport. Dave didn't mind airports, usually. He could be friendly and patient and sit down to read or work or something, not a problem. But today...there were ghosts of Puck everywhere, Puck leaving him, Puck being left behind or coming to meet him, even the empty space where Puck could have been missing if he wasn't coming to meet him seemed somehow different from all the other air. He knew this was ridiculous, the kind of thing Kurt would talk about late at night before deciding that he'd left the trite artsy vague things behind in school and it was better that way. But he was still thinking it, all the time, while going through the motions of check in and security and getting something to eat. As if he was just a guy going home from a successful conference to his boyfriend and his cat. Which he was, so he didn't know why he had to pretend.
Dave sighed. They were boarding his flight. He had his ID ready, a smile and a thank you, placed his carry-on sensibly in the overhead locker, while stepping aside for passengers seated behind him. Somehow it didn't make his brain shut up at all. He put down his book and watched the safety demonstration, because not a single word was making it to the point of meaning anyway. When he tried to find his spot again, he had to start from the beginning.
Just as he was about to turn off his cell phone, he received a text. It was from Kurt. Had dinner with V., it said. No cocktails, but a very sweet bouquet, and an equally sweet kiss.
Dave had to smile. Congrats. You guys going out again?
Almost certainly, Kurt sent. An unexpected connection. I feel like I should thank you.
I'm no matchmaker. But you're welcome, I guess? You deserve to be happy, Kurt.
Who knows? I'm trying to be open to that. He's the first guy in six years who's made me feel special, and where's he from? Ohio. Maybe I need to rethink my location.
Maybe you just need to stick with Vincent. You like California, right?
"Sir," said the flight attendant, "we're getting ready to take off. Would you turn that off, please?"
My flight's leaving, he added. I'll call you when I get home.
Kurt still hadn't responded by the time he switched off his phone, but Dave examined the vivid memory of Kurt in his head, Kurt and Vincent, in the restaurant, smiling and talking animatedly. They'd looked so damn happy. He'd meant it - Kurt did deserve that. But as much as Kurt might like California, even love his job, it hadn't been those things that had caused him to smile like that. He wants a boyfriend. Somebody who makes him feel special.
Dave's stomach was more uneasy than usual as they lifted off the ground, and instead of reading or doing the crossword, he just sat there, picturing his own life over the past two months. He knew when he looked at Puck across the table at dinner, when they discussed math, when he woke up and saw him sleeping on the pillow next to him, he had much the same expression as he'd seen on Kurt's face. It wasn't going away. Maybe... maybe it never would.
I don't want to lose this, he realized, feeling the panic rising in his chest, and he gripped the handrests of his seat with his hands, his knuckles turning white.
"Relax," said the woman next to him. She smiled at him kindly. "Flying is safer than driving, you know. You on your way somewhere important?"
"Yeah," Dave said, trying to let his shoulders drop. "I'm going home."
Dave did his laundry when he got back to the house. He spent a little time with Pascal, who was a little overly friendly for the first thirty minutes after he walked in the door, but otherwise unscathed from Dave's five days away. He sorted his mail. He checked his voice mail again. Still no messages.
He wasn't going to admit he didn't know what to do next, but eventually, he ran out of things to do and just had to sit down and call Puck.
"Hey, you're home already?" Puck sounded like he was eating lunch. "I thought your plane wasn't scheduled to land until three."
"Oh. No, I changed it, didn't I tell you that? I just got home."
"Shit, man, I'm sorry - I'm teaching until two." There was a pause. "I could come out after that, though, if you want."
Dave felt like yelling into the phone. If I want? After five days of me in California and you here? But of course he wasn't going to do that. He would be overreacting. Maybe it hadn't been as bad for Puck, him being away. "Yeah, that'd be fine. If you want."
"Yeah, I do." He was silent for a minute, then added, "You okay?"
The hesitant, tentative tone broke through some of Dave's stubborn self-doubt, and he sighed. "I guess? I think I need to get out of the house. You want to take a bike ride?"
Puck sounded excited by this idea. "If I had a bike."
"You can ride the fixie. I said I'd teach you, right?"
"Uh - yeah, okay, let me just - Beth, get off, what did I tell you about leaping on me when I come around corners? Yeah, not okay - sorry. Bike, definitely."
"Do I get to come?" Dave heard in the background.
"Not this time, kiddo. I'm going to Columbus." Puck said this like he might say I'm meeting the President.
"Awww... you're always going to Columbus. Why doesn't Dave come here?"
"I think you have a fan," Puck said to Dave, with an audible grin. Then, back to Beth: "Don't worry. He's back in Ohio, now, so I'm sure we'll find time to get together soon and ride your bike." To Dave, again, and the warmth in his voice lit some kind of fire inside Dave's middle. "I'll see you a little after four, babe."
Being alone after that didn't seem so dire, and Dave managed to fill the intervening time with lesson planning and folding laundry. Only the last fifteen minutes were spent brushing Pascal - who sounded like his little motor was going to accelerate out of his body and down the hall, it was so loud - and feeling like he didn't know what the hell he was doing.
When Puck arrived, Dave was already getting the bikes out of the garage. He rolled them over to the truck, one hand on each, careful not to let the fixie's constantly moving pedals hit his legs as he rolled it, because damn it, that hurt.
Puck opened the door and walked straight over to meet him, taking over one of the bikes without even asking. "Hey, that was quick." As usual, Dave couldn't help the stupid grin from spreading on his face. It might have been awkward talking on the phone, but once he had Puck in front of him, he mostly felt happy.
"Yeah, well, I've got it mapped out pretty well which stretches of Highway 33 have cops between here and Lima, but you probably don't want to hear about it. Helps that I dated one of the assholes that patrols near Bellefontaine." Puck's face twisted ruefully. "Actually, maybe it doesn't help, but I can guarantee he wouldn't want to risk giving me a ticket and having me out him."
Dave wasn't sure what to say to that, but he thought he might be getting used to hearing Puck's choice tidbits about his past. "We could just start from here, I guess, but I don't think you should try that one for the first time on the road. How about you take the road bike until we get to the park, and you can get used to it somewhere there's no traffic?"
Puck nodded. "Thanks for teaching me to ride the fixie, man. I've been wanting to try it."
Dave hesitated. They could just jump on their bikes and go, but he'd been away from his boyfriend for five days... it didn't seem right to treat him like just a friend coming over for a bike ride, but then he'd always been a bit careful about touching Puck in public. They were in front of his own house, though, not really visible to anyone except maybe the neighbors if they came outside right then. He carefully leaned his bike against the side of the car. Puck was still holding the fixie, so he took it and placed it next to the other. Puck just stood there and let him do it without comment, and when he turned back, he seemed perfectly happy to be taken into Dave's arms and kissed. "Hey," Dave said, pulling back just far enough to see his face clearly. "It's good to see you."
"Yeah," Puck said, a little breathless and flushed. Dave grinned. I did that. "It's good to see you, too. Uh..." He let his hands creep around Dave's middle and down the curve of his spine, and his eyes flickered down Dave's chest as he licked his lips. "We'd... better decide if we're going to ride, or... not. Because in a few more seconds, I might not be able to be convinced to leave your house."
Dave backed away a bit, leaving one arm around Puck's waist. It was tempting to just take him inside, but he really wanted to go for that ride, and he thought Puck did, too. "I think we should go. We can always come back here when we're done, right? Come on, let's go." He moved his hand from Puck's hip to grab his bike, and without really thinking about what he was doing, gave his ass a gentle pat on the way.
Puck didn't move from where he stood for a moment, and when Dave turned back to check on him, he looked a little stunned. And hungry. Then he grinned big, like a delighted puppy, and followed Dave's lead to get on the bike.
They rode together to the park, Dave on the fixie, and he couldn't resist showing off a little bit - doing a track stand at a red light instead of just putting his foot down like a sensible person - but it was good to practice your balance, right? It definitely had nothing to do with the look Puck was giving him. When the light turned green, he stood up and accelerated away, almost certainly annoying the driver next to him by being faster than him. Of course, after a few second the car passed him, a little closer than Dave thought was necessary, and he slowed down and turned his head to grin at Puck and wait for him to catch up.
Dave found a nice paved area without too many people, and stopped. Puck followed him, and they both got off their bikes. "I think this is a good place to start," Dave said, "and then once you have the basics down we can try the bike path. Shouldn't take too long."
They switched bikes. "The only thing you need to remember is to keep moving your legs. Just don't go too fast until you know how to stop, okay?" Dave leaned on the frame of his road bike and watched as Puck swung his leg over the seat. He stumbled a little trying to get the pedals into the right position, but once he got started, he picked up speed quickly. Dave thought maybe too quickly, considering he only had a theoretical idea about how to slow down again.
"Maybe try to stop now?" Dave suggested. Puck kept his focus and didn't even really look at Dave, but he stopped, a little uncertainly. Still impressive for a first try, in Dave's opinion, and Puck's excited grin was even better.
"I should have known you'd be a natural," he told him, "Really, that looked great. I think you're ready for the trail, if you're careful."
Dave stayed right behind him, watching and letting Puck set the pace, which meant they started nice and slow, but but pretty soon Puck was speeding up and slowing down again and making little turns, playing with the bike and apparently having a great time.
Then Puck turned his head, probably to get Dave to look at him, as if he wasn't already. He could tell, for a long moment that was still much too short to do anything, that this was going to go wrong. Sure, he yelled something, he wasn't sure what, probably about not forgetting to pedal, because that was what Puck was doing.
The bike stopped, but of course Puck didn't, diving head first over the handlebars. He landed on his front in the middle of the trail, while the bike tumbled over him. Dave turned sharply to avoid him, jumped off his bike and threw it down on the grass. Puck was lying very still. He ran over, thinking, at least there's no blood, and following right behind that thought, don't even think that, what if you're just not seeing it yet and then he was there, and Puck was moving.
"Are you okay?" Of course he wasn't, but compared to what could have happened...Puck wasn't even wearing a helmet, of all the irresponsible things in the world, why had Dave even allowed that? He could have broken his neck, and it would have been Dave's fault for not thinking, for asking him to do this.
"Uh... fuck," Puck muttered, shifting on the side of the trail. "So much for being a natural." The bike was three feet away, but Dave didn't even think about it. He watched anxiously as Puck moved his limbs and sat up carefully. There was a little bit of blood trickling down the side of his face. Not much. Maybe he seemed a bit dazed, but that was normal after a crash like that, wasn't it? Didn't have to mean anything, but should he be checking for head injuries anyway? He wasn't sure he remembered how to do that right now.
Then Dave saw the abrasion on his leg. It spanned from mid-thigh to mid-calf, and had taken out a good deal of the skin on his knee with it.
He swallowed and nodded at it. "Does it hurt?"
Puck focused on his leg with difficulty. "Holy shit," he said, sounding surprised. "Well - now it does." He poked at the bloody mess with one finger, dislodging some gravel, and grimaced. "Can you help me get up? If I'm going to walk on this, I'd better do it now before it gets worse."
"All right." Dave tried to estimate the distance back to his house. "If you can't ride back, we'll find another way. But you should probably get off the trail first, okay?
He put a supporting hand under Puck's armpit and lifted him up, holding as much of Puck's weight as he would let him take. Puck put on a brave face, but he was clearly in pain.
"Goddamn fucking bike," Puck snapped, rolling his eyes. "Really, Dave, who wants to ride a - ow - bike with no brakes and one you can't - oww, shit! - coast on?" He limped to a nearby park bench and sprawled there, breathing heavily, his face pale and sweaty. "I don't know if I can walk all the way back, man."
Dave put a hand on the back of Puck's neck and sat down next to him, watching the blood trickle down his leg in rivulets and pool in the top of his sock. "You don't have to, okay? If you think you can handle a bike you can coast on, you can take that one, and if not, I'll ride back and get your truck."
Puck closed his eyes and, just for a moment, leaned against Dave's shoulder, shaking with pain and adrenaline. "Sorry about this. I'm such a freaking spaz sometimes."
"No, you're not. You think you're the only person who ever crashed like that? It happens, you just got it out of the way early." Dave put an arm around his shoulder. "Anyway, I'm the one who should be sorry, I basically put you on that thing and told you it would be fine."
He wasn't sure if this was going to get better or worse if they waited, but if it was mostly just road rash, bruises and shock, he thought he remembered feeling weaker and more sore after the adrenaline wore off. "Babe, this needs to be cleaned up. What do you want to do? Stay here and wait for me to come back and pick you up, or try the bike?"
Puck looked absolutely panicked at the mention of stay here and wait for me to come back. "Uh... no, I think I can do it. I hope I don't crash your other bike."
"I'll take that chance." Dave got up and picked up the fixie, quickly checking it for damage, but it seemed fine. Then he got his road bike and held it in front of Puck. "Okay. It might hurt a little, but I'm pretty sure you'll be fine on this. Ready?"
Puck carefully swung his mangled leg over the crossbar and gingerly sat on the seat, gripping the handlebars with grim determination. "Ready."
They rode back, a lot slower and more carefully than they had on the way there, but they made it without any more trouble. When there was room, Dave stayed beside Puck, on his left, only dropping behind if there were cars behind them. On a quiet street, he put one hand on Puck's lower back to give him a bit of help. Puck looked at him like he was thinking about protesting.
"Just pretend you're a pro cyclist, they crash and get pushed to the finish all the time," Dave told him, and if Puck didn't seem convinced, he let Dave do it.
When they got back to the house, Dave led Puck inside and directly to the bathroom. Puck sat down on the toilet lid while Dave searched for first aid supplies. He came up with some gauze, neosporin and a roll of tape, and filled the sink with soapy water. "Should I do this, or would you rather do it yourself?"
Puck turned red and looked away, but he muttered, "You can. If you don't mind."
Dave smiled. "Okay. I'll try to be careful, but tell me if you need a break." He dipped some gauze in the water, and, one steadying hand on a still whole part of Puck's thigh, started from the middle and worked his way out. Puck tensed up, but didn't flinch away from him.
"Sorry." Dave hated this, it was okay on himself, but Puck...he couldn't think about it, he'd just keep his hands moving. Firm and not too slow was actually easier, as far as he remembered from his own encounters with road rash. Once a nurse had actually scrubbed the gravel out of an abrasion on his elbow with a nail brush or something like it, and he took some comfort in remembering it hadn't been half been as bad as it looked. Every time Puck winced, he had to fight not to wince, too, but he managed to stay steady.
"Okay, done with the leg." He dabbed it gently with a towel and put some ointment on a new piece of gauze. "I could try to cover this up, but it's pretty big, so I think it might be better to just do the deepest part, okay? The rest of it won't ooze and stick to anything."
Dave placed the gauze on Puck's knee and taped it in place, careful not to actually put tape on the road rash. Puck still seemed a little shaky. Dave took a deep breath; he wasn't the only one. But he could do this. "I think you'll have to strip for me," he said, with a small smile, "I'm pretty sure there's some more on that shoulder."
He helped Puck out of his T-shirt. It was kind of tight, and everything hurt when you were sore like that. Dave held the collar out and lifted it over Puck's face so it wouldn't get dragged over the abrasions th. Close, right up next to him like that, the experience of Puck was so much more intense, and Dave struggled not to make it about that, because he was just going to take care of this, and it would be done. Yes, he'd been right: there were more on his arm, though they weren't nearly so bad. Dave picked some large bits of aggregate concrete out of the contusion. "Doing all right?"
"Yeah." Puck let out a frustrated breath. "Thanks."
"You're welcome?" Dave kept cleaning little specks of dirt out of his arm. "I don't mind. I mean...I'm sorry it happened, but it did, so I want to do this."
Puck looked at him like he was insane. "Dude. I'm sure you have better things to do than pick up my messes."
Dave shook his head. "No, I don't. Babe, if anyone's going to clean you up and fix your mess, I want it to be me."
This time, Puck clearly wanted to look away, but he seemed arrested by Dave's eyes. The longer Dave waited, the more intense it felt, until they were both having trouble breathing. "God, Dave," he whispered. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"
There were so many things Dave wanted to do with Puck looking at him like that, but he had a job to finish here. "Sit there and let me finish cleaning you up?" he suggested, and Puck relaxed a fraction. "We're almost done here." He wiped the blood from Puck's face, revealing a scratch that was much smaller than he'd feared. It was probably fine to leave it. "I think that's it."
He was only going to give Puck a hand getting up, which he probably didn't even need, but somehow it turned into Dave lifting him into his arms and then just standing there, in the middle of his little bathroom, holding him.
"You're okay," he said, more to himself than to Puck, if he was going to be honest. Puck was leaning on him, resting his head against him, breathing. Dave turned his head as much as he could without losing contact. "God, you're really okay." Puck was right there, and Dave let go with one arm only so he could put it on the back of his head and pull it closer. It almost hurt, but he didn't care, as long as Puck was fine.
But Puck didn't seem to be fine; he was grasping with his whole arm for Dave's shoulder, pulling himself in closer, folding into the space of Dave's body as though he needed a place to hide. He wasn't breathing anymore so much as he was gasping and struggling with air, like it was a foreign substance, fighting every rise and fall of his chest.
"You went away," Puck said, his tone small and accusing. "You... you left."
Dave held him as tight as he could, but there was no way it could ever be enough; something was breaking inside him and the only thing that might maybe make it better was to hold on to Puck and never let him go. "I did," he whispered. "I'm sorry." He had to breathe. Hold Puck and breathe, and make him breathe with him. "But I'm here now, okay? I came back. I'll always come back."
"You promise?" Puck demanded. He was holding onto Dave's shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from drowning. "For real?"
"Yeah." Dave actually smiled a little. It was okay, Puck was breathing and talking and the bathroom just looked like the bathroom again. "For real."
They stared at each other for a moment, and maybe both decided they'd said everything that needed to be said. Dave thought he was the first to move, but it didn't matter, all that was important was kissing Puck, hard and messy, as close as he could get, for the first time in five days.
"I love you," he managed to get out, before Puck was attacking him again. Then, a while later, as Puck let his mouth go to pull Dave's shirt over his head, he continued. "God, I love you, but we're not doing this in the bathroom. Come on."
He led Puck down the hall to his bedroom. Puck kept clinging to him the whole way, so he ended up walking backwards to the edge of the bed and sitting down there, pulling Dave with him. If he hadn't been injured, Dave might have thrown himself on top of him - Puck wasn't usually fragile, but now he suddenly saw him that way, beautiful, whole, alive, but so human and small and terribly easy to damage. Easy to lose. Dave pulled his head towards his chest and held it there for a second, kissed the top of it, until the feeling passed, or maybe was just surpassed by wanting to get his boyfriend naked.
Puck was already in his boxers, so it wasn't a huge task, even when being careful not to drag them over the fresh road rash on his leg. There was plenty of uninterrupted skin to enjoy, to run his hands over, and it seemed that Puck's experience had made him a little oversensitive, because every touch brought forth a fresh barrage of moans.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said, staring down into Puck's eyes, "but I don't think I'm going to be thinking much about that in a few minutes if we keep going."
"Don't care," Puck groaned, grabbing Dave's wrist and tugging him down onto his chest, the bandaged portion propped to one side. "Want you. Now. I missed you so much." His hands were restless, stroking over Dave's arms, his back, pulling him closer. "And I felt like such a fucking idiot, you know? Five days - I mean, what the hell?"
Dave finally gave in and let himself be pulled down on top of Puck, relaxing enough to put most of his weight on him, pressing him into the mattress. The desperate moan Puck let out seemed to indicate he was all right with that.
"I know," Dave said, "I missed you too, so much, I had no idea." Puck was lifting his head off the bed, struggling to get some more height, but he didn't have much room to do it with Dave still on his chest. It looked awkward, and Dave didn't mind helping, so he put a hand under the back of Puck's head, supporting it. He lifted up a little, convincing Puck to let go and lean back into it, and when he did, Dave lowered his own head the tiny distance needed to meet his lips. He kissed Puck, gently and patiently at first, just to make a point. He had no idea what it was; maybe I'm here, it's okay, you don't need to fight so hard for this. I'm giving it to you. But when Puck's mouth opened for him, it quickly turned into a definite no, I'm taking it.
And Puck could feel it, the way Puck responded to the change by surrendering the last bit of weight into Dave's hand. Dave let him, then lowered his head to the mattress, kissing him the whole way down.
His other hand was still holding Puck's. Dave changed his grip to get a firm hold around Puck's wrist, lifted it and put it back down a little higher up, and Puck responded by arching his back, thrusting up against Dave with a little gasp.
"You're so hot," Dave told him, and he knew it was ridiculous and breathless and desperate, but it didn't matter anymore. "Fuck, I have to do this, you..." - he reached down to grab Puck's other wrist, and he wasn't really even thinking anymore about where Puck might want his hands, they were coming with Dave's where he needed them - "...so damn gorgeous." He pushed himself up a little on his arms, pinning Puck's wrists against the bed with the same force.
Puck was gazing up at him, dark eyes wide open. Dave stared into them for a moment, and then he couldn't anymore, because all the words were falling out, the whole miserable week. He rested his forehead against Puck's and talked into his mouth, telling him I love you, god, so much, I don't know what I'd do without you, my whole life is you now and I love it and I have no idea what to do with that, I'm sorry, I love you, you're so hot like this, and the whole time he could feel Puck under him, his hips twisting and his wrists tugging, resisting Dave's hold just a little, but not enough that Dave was willing to listen. He knew, he knew, this was what Puck needed, and he said it, he whispered you need this, and I need to take it from you.
"Oh god," Puck said suddenly, his poor battered body writhing under Dave, and his hips snapped up in a helpless rhythm, and he was moaning and shuddering, and Dave could feel the heat and wetness of Puck's release, even as he was crying under the weight of Dave's hands.
Dave wasn't sure what had just happened, if he should move, or say something, but he thought the safest thing to do - if he was honest, what he wanted to do - was to stay right there. He loosened his grip on Puck's wrists, sliding his left hand down a little to lie in Puck's, and his right up along his arm and shoulder and behind his ear to cradle his head. All the time, Puck was squeezing his eyes shut, turning his head away, muttering, "God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, so sorry."
"Hey. You're fine," Dave whispered into Puck's ear. He kissed it decisively. "I have no idea what you're so sorry about."
Puck took a couple steadying breaths and gulped back his sobs in clear frustration. "I'm just so - you have no idea what you do to me, Dave, I just couldn't - the whole time you were gone, I felt so fucking helpless, and then you got home, and I'm still fucking helpless." He shook his head. "Just waiting for you to get sick of that, to piss you off and send you running."
"I'm not going anywhere. I like you helpless." Dave didn't really know why he was saying it, nothing would get through to Puck right now anyway. Well, almost nothing. Sometimes it was better to just get on with it and show him. "And I'm going to fuck you now," he told him. "If that's okay with you."
Puck moaned, loud, and his whole body went loose, pressing up against Dave. "God, yes. That's definitely okay with me."
Dave's head dropped. He was relieved - because what the hell had he just said, and how did that turn out okay? - and that, on top of the sudden rush of wanting Puck even more than he already did two seconds ago, was almost too much. But his head cleared, and the strength came back to his arms, so he pushed himself back up. Puck's eyes were half-lidded, his cheeks were flushed and his breathing was shallow. The sticky spot on Dave's abdomen notwithstanding, he didn't look like he'd gotten what he needed yet.
Dave definitely hadn't. He needed more, more of those noises, to be the one making Puck helpless and desperate, to be inside him, taking him apart and giving him what he needed.
So he did, starting with just one finger, and it was all very wet and messy and might have seemed kind of stupid, but it didn't, not at all. It was amazing, because Puck was still responding to every little move he made, like Dave's fingers and the hand on his hip were the center of his world. Everything else might be a little foggy, but he felt Puck like every touch was stronger and warmer, every bit of skin so sensitive it almost hurt. And Puck, laying himself wide open and trusting under him, letting Dave in, letting him do exactly what he wanted. "You're so beautiful like this," Dave told him, without stopping what he was doing.
Puck was making some of those noises he'd been seeking, scarcely words at all, little more than breath, but every now and then Dave could hear his name, and a lot of god and yes mixed in. It was a heady brew, and Dave felt a little drunk on it.
Puck's hips were starting to twist too much, so Dave put a little more weight on his hand, holding him still. If he wanted more, he'd get it - but Dave was deciding when. He paused for what seemed like forever but was probably only a second, and then, thinking he'd made his point, added another finger. "Mine," he whispered. "I've got you. You're mine."
"Yours," Puck replied, almost too hoarse and choked to be understood. "Yeah. God, I am."
The combination of Dave's weight on top of him, and the way he was sliding into him, and all of his crazy, dangerous words were having a remarkable effect on Puck. Dave knew by now the things that Puck loved most, and he could probably take him the rest of the way toward getting off again just by using his tongue on Puck's nipple ring. But it wasn't about that; not at all. And Dave thought maybe Puck knew it wasn't, and it was still somehow okay, more than okay.
But he had to ask, anyway, because the chance that the answer was anything but yes was too scary to contemplate. "You really want this from me?" Dave asked, leaning over Puck, making him look at him.
"Anything," Puck panted, "everything - all of it - I want it, please."
It wasn't easy, to keep his hand on Puck's hip while he withdrew his fingers and ripped open the condom, but it seemed important somehow to let Puck know he wasn't going to let him up, wasn't going to let him go. That Puck could count on him to stick around, even if things were sometimes hard, and messy, and awkward.
"You can have it," Dave said, "All of it. Everything you want. Because I want to give it to you."
There wasn't anything appealing in Dave's mind about the idea of two postcoital, sweaty, sticky guys on top of each other, but the reality was nothing short of amazing. He waited as long as he could before carefully climbing over Puck's bandaged leg and lying down next to him on the bed. Puck was mostly comatose, and made little more than a grunt as Dave did it.
Dave moved his head over right next to Puck's, close but not quite spooning him, giving him some space to recover. Even so, he felt a little nervous. They'd done... okay, they'd done a lot, in the past half hour. He'd done a lot. It had been clear that Puck had enjoyed it, more than enjoyed it, in the moment, but now that it was over, he wondered if things would look different to Puck.
"Just checking in," he murmured, and kissed him on the cheek. Puck didn't open his eyes, but he stirred and stretched, protesting a little. "You okay?"
"Uhhh," Puck said, and chuckled. "Fuck. If you count hurting all over as being okay."
"I'm sorry," Dave began, but then Puck did open his eyes and turned his head, gazing at him with an expression Dave couldn't quite believe was directed at him, and he stopped. It was something like wonder and something like amusement, and even though Dave would have sworn he'd just had enough good feelings to last for several weeks, this one might have eclipsed them all.
"No," Puck assured him. "No way. No sorry. I mean, yeah, I could have done without the road rash, but that wasn't your fault. But the rest..." He trailed off, and lifted a hand to rest on Dave's chest. "I just feel so..."
Dave waited as long as he could, but eventually he had to prompt, "Feel so what?" He hoped he didn't sound too desperate.
Puck swallowed, and his voice broke on the last word. "So lucky."
Dave pulled him closer. Puck's head fit perfectly on his shoulder, tucked as tightly against Dave as he could get. Lucky. Not hurt, not unsure, not empty, none of the things he'd been afraid to hear. "Yeah," he whispered. "So lucky."
Puck's velvet-smooth head rubbed pleasantly against the skin in the hollow of Dave's arm. "One thing, though."
It was hard to feel worried, with Puck in his arms like this. "Yeah?"
"We don't really need those things anymore. Do we?"
"Things." For a moment, Dave had no idea what Puck was talking about. Then he felt it, like a shock. "You mean the condom?"
"Yeah." Puck carded through the hair on Dave's chest and held on a little tighter. "I mean, I don't think we do. If you think so, I guess..."
"No, you're right. If you're sure it's okay. I mean, okay with you."
He felt Puck shake his head. "You don't mind. I guess I'm asking..." With an effort, Puck raised himself up on one arm. "This is, like, the next step. Only I've never taken it with another guy."
Dave nodded. "Yeah, that's why I'm asking you...if you're sure, and if you...I guess, what that means? Because I'm already not doing anything with anyone else, and I already want us to be honest with each other, so...what's the next step?"
Puck huffed out a breath. "Hell, Dave, I don't know what it means. I just don't want to do this with anyone else, either. And that's it." He raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"
"Okay." Dave smiled. Maybe it was that simple. "That's good enough for now."
