(Author's note: it's the most frustrating thing to know how a story will end and somehow not be able to finish it. But we're making progress, and hopefully this story will be concluded before the end of the month, when we'll be publishing our piece for the Kurt-OT3 Big Bang. It's 30k of Puck/Dave/Kurt craziness (and, still, our endgame is Puckofsky; really). In the meantime, enjoy the Dave/Puck academic angst. Previous warnings for mild D/s apply to this chapter. - amy and Penthea)
Dave wasn't sure when it had happened during the course of the fall, but somewhere along the way, Puck had shifted from being a guest to being as much a member of the household as Pascal was. He had his own key, and he was there most evenings, even when he didn't have to be in Columbus the next morning. Sometimes when Dave got home from class or a bike ride, he found dinner already made - usually just pasta or something simple, but Dave wasn't complaining. He would occasionally wake up to a suddenly clean bathroom or the sound of the vacuum cleaner. One day the sliding glass door that led to the deck magically stopped sticking. Puck even changed the cat box without being asked, which was almost embarrassingly awesome.
It wasn't a challenge for Dave to have Puck around anymore. He didn't feel crowded, or uncomfortable, or uneasy in any way. Except for one way - and it was the hardest thing for Dave to bring up, because it wasn't something bad. It did happen, however, increasingly more frequently.
He finally said something about it after dinner one night, when Puck was sitting next to him on the couch surfing the 'net, and Dave was attempting to focus enough to get some work done. The operative word being focus... which was mostly captured by the gorgeous guy next to him.
"Can you just..." Dave trailed off, his eyes following the line of Puck's neck, the legs stretched out to rest on the table.
Puck looked up from his laptop, smirking, and put his feet back on the floor. "Yeah?"
Dave shook his head. "Never mind."
Puck laughed a little. "All right, babe, but you know all you have to do is ask."
He might not have meant it that way, but Dave felt warmer anyway, and it didn't get even a little bit easier to focus on his work. Maybe he should move to the kitchen, but he knew that wouldn't help, he'd still have a head full of Puck's eyes and his shoulders and his low voice offering anything you want, just tell me what to do.
Dave stared at the theorem on the page again, willing it to make some kind of sense, to stop being just symbols - Puck, naked in his bed, just barely awake - strictly upper triangular matrices, he knew this wasn't supposed to be this hard - those are really just exponentials, or cycles, or - curling around him, whispering, come on, babe, I need you - Dave rubbed his face with both hands and sighed.
Puck moved closer on the couch, putting his arm on Dave's shoulder, squeezing the stiff muscles a little. "Too complicated this late?" he asked, leaning over to look at the page. "You could just come to bed. The math will be there tomorrow."
Dave groaned. "Yeah, and so will you," he said tiredly. "I mean, not like that...okay, kind of like that, I just..." He looked up, and seeing Puck's face, he had to smile a little, and finally admit, "You're just really distracting, you know?"
Puck tilted his head and looked at him uncertainly. He was definitely not less distracting up close. "Uh, sorry. I can leave - I was going to bed anyway..."
Dave put down his book. He didn't want Puck to leave, or to finish this stupid chapter, and if Puck was going to bed, he definitely wanted to come too. Which was exactly his problem, except...since when was that a problem? The math would be there tomorrow. "No, don't," he said. "Not distracting in a bad way." He reached out, too late and from too far away to actually stop Puck from going anywhere, but he stopped anyway, completely willing take a step back and be pulled into Dave's lap.
Dave drew a breath, surprised himself at how loud it was, and put his arms around Puck's waist. "It's just...hard to focus, when all I can think about is how hot you are," he said, looking at Puck's shoulder. He tightened his grip a little, not really wanting to hold back anymore. Whatever. This - amazing, gorgeous person was his boyfriend. Dave was allowed to touch him, to want him, to think about that more or less all the time. Puck even seemed to like it - he was certainly encouraging it, even when Dave knew that all he was really doing was walking across the room.
But then, there were the times when Puck did more than that. When he walked up behind Dave and kissed his neck, invited him to do... things. Times when Dave had to wonder if he was serious, because nobody was actually supposed to want him that way.
"Guys like me don't get this," he murmured. But Puck wasn't responding to the words he was saying, he was leaning into him, relaxing, moaning a little at the pressure of Dave's tongue, and trembling at Dave's hands on him. If the choice was to get all logical and certain he didn't deserve a guy like Puck, or accept what he had, right here in front of him, willing and eager, well... what kind of a choice was that, anyway?
"I'm sorry," Puck said, pulling away with a little laugh. "I don't - I don't mean to be a distraction. Really. I can just go, so you can finish your work."
He really should. But he didn't want to. "No, I -" Dave pulled himself together. Whining really wouldn't help. "Okay, I need to finish this work." He drew Puck in a little closer for a moment anyway. "...but god, babe, I want you so much, and if you wait for me upstairs, I promise I'll make up for it later."
Puck's breath came a little faster at the suggestion, but he went willingly enough, kissing Dave just once more before he took his laptop and disappeared up the stairs.
Knowing Puck was upstairs, getting ready for bed, maybe already in bed, waiting for Dave, should have made it even harder to concentrate, but it didn't. Dave actually managed to focus on the math, and okay, maybe he cut a few corners a little bit, because every now and then he noticed that he'd almost forgotten about Puck, and remember again, with some force. Finally, though, he thought he could call it done without feeling too guilty about it.
He placed all the books and papers in a neat stack for tomorrow, and walked up the stairs, not quite knowing why he wasn't walking faster, but...Puck was there, he'd be waiting. For Dave to make up for it. The idea was completely surreal, if he tried to think about, because when did his ego grow big enough to warrant such a thought? It was absurd, really. But Puck hadn't laughed; he'd walked up the stairs, and, damn, Dave wanted to make it worth it, somehow.
Tell me what to do, Puck said, in his head, the one thing he'd asked for that Dave hadn't really been able to give him. He'd tried, and it wasn't even that he didn't want to, exactly, he just...couldn't. It seemed selfish, he'd told himself, but he knew that was an excuse, when Puck was the one asking for it. So if not selfish...it could be that he was afraid to look silly, to look stupid. To fail at that - he just couldn't. Maybe in the end Dave just wasn't as brave as Puck.
He made it up the stairs and into the bathroom, brushing his teeth, thinking about Puck waiting. About how he was risking so much, asking for what he wanted, maybe even needed. He was trusting Dave not to laugh, not to go cold and kind, to not leave. How could Dave not want to give him everything, accept and take all that he offered?
And still...he didn't quite want it enough, or the right way, to make it work. Do things to me, that had been the other wish, and Dave could do that, definitely, so it wasn't like he was a complete failure. Just thinking about the things he could do made him flush with sudden heat and almost swallow the toothpaste. That was so good. It was enough, really. Only... he thought, maybe, if he could just get over that...whatever barrier it was, it could be even better. He could blow Puck's mind. And maybe, just maybe, a little voice whispered, his own as well.
Dave rinsed his mouth, pulled the shirt over his head and threw it in the hamper, and headed towards the bedroom. He could try this again.
Dave thought at first that Puck might be asleep when he came into the room, he was lying so still. He approached the bed quietly, shifting the covers away from Puck's shoulder, and he heard his breathing shift, shallow and erratic. "Babe?" he said quietly.
"Here," came Puck's reply. He remained on his side, rolled away to face the wall.
Dave brushed his back with one hand. Puck made a low noise. "You okay?"
"Yeah." His voice was muffled. "Would you - can you come here? Into bed?"
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere else." Dave leaned in and pressed his lips to Puck's skin, feeling him shaking. "Babe, what is it?"
Puck turned his head far enough to meet Dave's gaze over his shoulder, just for a moment. That definitely wasn't fear in his eyes.
"God, Dave, just - please." He took a shuddering breath. "I need you."
Dave wasn't sure what to do, because this was all of a sudden way more intense than he'd expected it to be. "Hey. It's okay. I'm here." He slid into the space between the sheets and the bed, where Puck lay, quivering. When he brushed against his back, Puck was immediately pressing full against him, every inch of his skin trying to conform with the shape of Dave's body. Dave put a possessive hand on his hip, drawing him in tighter, his arm across Puck's chest and over his arms, and as his hand brushed Puck's cock, he could feel how incredibly hard and ready he was.
Puck's voice came quick and desperate, the words tumbling over one another. "I was - I came upstairs, and I tried to wait, to wait until you were ready, because I knew you needed to get your work done. And I totally can do that; I'm not such a mess that I can't wait for half a goddamn hour for you." He shuddered again, and Dave felt him grind back against his cock, which hadn't really been hard a few minutes ago but now absolutely was. "Except - except I guess I can't. I can't wait for you. I need you right now, I'm fucking falling apart without it... Dave." This last was a low groan, as Dave made a little thrust against him.
"But you're not," Dave said. "You've been waiting just fine. And now I'm here, okay?" He kissed the tendons in Puck's neck, felt Puck respond to his mouth, his words. Every touch seemed magnified, as though he had developed some power to affect Puck's entire body with just his fingertips. He slid his hands down Puck's thighs, across his stomach, keeping it light, feeling the tension mount. "To give you what you need." He tightened his grip a little, with the hand that was now back on Puck's hip. "Take what I want."
"Oh god," Puck moaned. His response was all Dave needed.
"Roll over," he said, giving Puck's hip a little nudge in the right direction, but it was just...a hint, really. "On your front." And maybe his voice was a little thick, but Puck seemed to hear it anyway. He let himself fall that quarter turn, and Dave thought, that was me, telling him what to do, and then he quickly stopped thinking about it, in case putting a name on what he was doing would make it complicated again, instead of just incredibly hot.
Puck, offering himself willingly exactly where and how Dave wanted him - it made it hard to breathe, made it seem like his hands didn't quite belong to him anymore, whatever it was inside him was lifting him up and strangling him at the same time, and while doing all that, it was whispering, no, screaming in his ears, take him, he's yours.
Puck turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Dave, his face hopeful, and a little anxious. "Like that?"
"Yeah, that's great." Dave didn't know how he was still making his hands slide down Puck's body, over his ass and thighs, up again. "God, you look amazing."
"Yeah?" He had no idea how Puck could possibly disbelieve this, but he did seem to.
"Yes. Hold still..." The suggestion came out a little sharper than he'd anticipated, but Puck had been about to move, and he couldn't have that. Sure enough, Puck froze in place, and even Dave's hand wrapping around him, stroking him, didn't change that. Dave heard Puck make a little gasp. He could feel the incredible tension that was holding him back from responding to Dave's touches, but instead was just... waiting.
"You've been waiting for me to come up here and..." Dave paused, his hands still roaming over Puck's body. Puck was quivering all over now, like the vibration of his body was only held in check by the force of his will, and if he let go - if he broke his control - he might fly off into space, an errant vector with nothing to intersect. No. Dave tightened his hands on Puck's hips, hearing the catch in his breath. Puck wasn't going to get lost that way again. Not if Dave could help it.
"And... take over," Dave finished, leaning into Puck's body. Puck didn't exactly press back, but instead he sighed a little, letting Dave move him where he wanted him to go.
"Yeah," said Puck. It sounded more like a plea than an acknowledgement. Dave decided he wanted to hear more of that. No - he wanted to be the one with whom Puck was pleading. With his hands on Puck's skin like this, feeling his strength and unbelievable, thrumming excitement, inspired by nothing more than Dave's touch, it didn't seem strange at all to want that.
"You need me to tell you what's going to happen next." A little more, and Puck had to move, had to respond to his touch - didn't he? But Puck was still holding still, almost holding his breath, waiting.
"Yes," Puck whispered, resting his cheek on the bed. Still waiting, and Dave got this image of Puck waiting - forever, without someone to come and catch him. And that just wasn't okay. Not for his boyfriend.
Dave felt like maybe it was wrong, somehow, to still be so turned on by this, like maybe what Puck really needed was a hug and some reassurance. He didn't think it really was, though. Maybe it was what they should need. The thing was, he'd done that, and he'd always ended up feeling okay, but still frustrated, like they'd talked and talked when the right thing would have been to just do something. Maybe it didn't even matter what it was.
He took a deep breath. Puck would forgive him, if this was wrong. He would. Dave had to believe that. He put a hand on Puck's thigh, and felt the muscles twitch under his fingers.
"Spread your legs," he said, and Puck did, instantly, almost before Dave realized he'd spoken.
"That's good," he whispered - he hadn't meant to, but his voice wasn't quite working. He swallowed and let his hand slide up along the inside of Puck's leg. "Yeah, just like that," he said, a little more certainly.
He leaned forward and kissed a spot on Puck's back that seemed like a good one, added a little bite, getting lost in the taste of his skin and the instant, shivering response. Dave let his hand wander aimlessly over Puck's lower body, enjoying the textures, and the little twitches he could elicit, and, he had to admit, the possessive thrill of taking his time, going wherever he wanted, letting his fingers dip between Puck's parted legs, knowing his boyfriend was lying there like that because he'd told him to.
Dave got up on his knees, his fingertips still a tiny point of reassuring contact on Puck's back. "Here's what's going to happen now," he said, resting his hand more firmly on Puck's shoulder. "You're going to stay there, and I'll do everything else. Just...relax, and tell me if you're doing okay, and...take it."
"Yeah," Puck panted. "Fuck... that's just what I want."
A tiny part of Dave couldn't believe what he was saying, but it was drowned out by the part that loved it too much to care. Puck's reaction was reassuring, too.
He'd felt the intimacy of being inside someone, before, and been awed by the trust of it, but Dave had never had such a strong sense of power before, of claiming and taking - and of all that being perfectly okay, and welcome. Puck was mostly still and quiet, except for some little noises and twists that Dave took as encouragement, but he still had to ask one more time if everything was really okay.
Puck moaned. "Yes, it's okay. God, Dave. Please."
Then he didn't say anything for a while, at least nothing involving real words. Finally, though, when they were both splayed happily exhausted on the bed, Puck did. Dave gave up on reaching the corner of the duvet to pull it over them and just rolled closer to Puck instead. Puck was continuing to hold still, so still.
"You have no fucking idea how hard it is to want that, and not to be able to ask for it." He tucked his head against Dave's shoulder. "And to have you giving it to me... holy shit, Dave."
Dave wrapped himself around Puck, letting him feel every bit of him, to know there wasn't one part of him that was alone anymore. "I'm going to do that for you, babe," he said, holding him tight. "Today, and... and tomorrow, and for as long as you need it."
Puck seemed to take that as some kind of permission to move, because he relaxed, his whole body shaking with relief. He was saying something that Dave couldn't quite catch, something just under his breath, until Dave got him turned around in his arms and held him to his chest, and then he could hear it: thank you, whispered over and over, thank you, thank you.
Connor really did have a great voice. Dave thought he sounded a little like Andy Partridge from XTC, but it wasn't the kind of thing you could say to a person without a lot of explanation, so he just kept it to himself.
And listening to their band practice was more like watching a comedy improv show with music. Connor and Nicole bantered back and forth, witty and cutting by turns, and Finn played a dogged, patient straight man, while Puck alternated between concentrating fiercely on the music and saying totally outrageous and hilarious things. There was the music, too, which was earnestly hard-rock, and none of them seemed like they were working too hard at gelling into something that sounded great.
Dave found himself looking forward to band rehearsals, even though he didn't have much to do other than be entertained. It was kind of nice to have a place to work on crosswords without feeling guilty for not doing something else. And Puck assured him that he was welcome, really.
"Finn's over all that stuff that went down in high school," he'd said, grinning. "And Connor thinks you're awesome."
He didn't know if awesome was really how Connor felt about him, but he'd always been nice to Dave, so he had to assume everything was okay between the two of them, or as okay as it could be between somebody's ex-boyfriend and his current one. Which is why Dave didn't expect what happened that November afternoon.
Admittedly, he probably wasn't meant to hear any of it. He was just sitting quietly in Connor's kitchen, filling in the Wednesday corner squares in his crossword, when there they were, Puck and Connor, right outside the doorway, tossing curses back and forth like they were softballs.
"You're fucking right I'm sick of it," Puck declared. "I just don't think I want to deal with it anymore."
"I don't blame you," Connor said. "He's kind of a prick, no matter how nice he seems. And so what if you've known him since high school?"
Puck snorted. "I barely know him at all."
Dave set his pen down, swallowing his discomfort. Puck probably wasn't talking about him. There were lots of guys he'd met in high school who were around now. Weren't there?
"Really, though, I don't think I can tell him that he's not welcome anymore. He has been nice to me."
Connor made a derisive sound. "Fuck that. There's a difference between nice and passive-aggressive. He just doesn't have the courage to do what he thinks is the right thing. Or maybe he just thinks all the problems will solve themselves. You shouldn't have to deal with that, babe."
Dave tasted bitterness in his mouth at the sound of the endearment in Connor's voice, directed at Puck. He's mine, he thought, feeling unreasonably possessive. Not yours. You don't get to call him that anymore.
Puck sounded resigned. "Yeah, well, he won't have to worry anymore if I decide to close the school."
If he – what? Dave didn't think he could stay silent any longer, but then Connor slid open the back door and they walked out onto the back deck, leaving him alone in the kitchen. Dave stood, ready to follow them, then sat down again. He shouldn't have been eavesdropping. It was his own fault he heard Puck and Connor say – those things. He ran a hand over his head and tried to put it out of his mind, but he didn't make any more progress on his crossword, no matter how hard he concentrated.
By the time Puck came back inside, Dave had decided there was no way they'd been talking about him. Puck planted an absent kiss on his ear, and it was almost like nothing had happened.
"You about ready to go, babe?" he asked.
Dave folded his newspaper and pushed the chair out from the table. "Yeah, sure."
It wasn't until they were in the truck on the way back to Puck's house that he ventured to ask a question. It wasn't going to be the question he wanted to ask, so he chose something slightly less complicated. "How are things going at the dojo?"
Puck shrugged, his eyes on the road. "Fine, I guess. Same old same old. Why?"
"You think it'll be okay without you while we're at the Chicago conference next week?"
"Oh, that. Yeah, sure - Owen's got it covered. Connor'll come down from Columbus to help with the bigger classes, and then Thanksgiving's the week after that, and most of the families won't be around anyway." Puck snuck a glance at him. "Sound good?"
"Perfect." Dave clutched the crossword in his lap and made himself smile normally.
Puck didn't look convinced, though. "It... didn't seem like you were having much fun, hanging around at band rehearsal tonight."
All of the reasons Dave had thought of earlier that evening, enumerating why he enjoyed doing exactly that, had vanished from his head. He stared out the window. "Yeah, maybe not."
Puck opened his mouth, then closed it again. After a few moments, he tried again. "Uh. I just don't want you to waste your time if you don't want to be there."
Dave wavered between getting more pissed off and ignoring Puck, or getting more pissed off and saying something. In the end, he decided the former was safer. He could always bring it up tomorrow.
Dave's awareness of Puck's progress on his research progress had passed entirely beyond Dave's purview. He had to assume that the truth fell somewhere between what Puck told him ("It sucks, and I'm going to make a total fool of myself when I try to present at the conference, fuck you very much for asking") and what Elliott told him ("He's a freaking genius with numbers, but even though he's a good speaker in front of a crowd, he's got some kind of mental block about presenting").
But Dave hadn't heard much from either one of them over the past few weeks. He'd mostly tried to focus on his own classes and stay out of Puck's way. He didn't want Puck to think he didn't think he could do it, but mostly he was so grateful for Elliott taking on the role he was nervous about providing. It's better this way, he'd think, when he saw Puck on the phone with Elliott, and always carefully walked away so he wouldn't overhear them talking about their work. Because, really, I've had enough of overhearing.
He missed him, yeah, it was true. He missed talking math with Puck. Maybe a lot more than he'd expected, but he could handle it. Puck hadn't gone anywhere; he was just working with someone else. After this semester was over, they'd...
That was where his thinking usually ground to a halt. Dave had no frame of reference for what might happen after this semester was over. Right now, he and Puck had this math class together, three days a week. Once that had concluded... what would they be? Was there anything, after all, that they had in common? What reason would Puck have for wanting to see him at all?
Dave tried not to be overwhelmed by these fears as the conference drew nearer. Puck, meanwhile, just got more and more wound up about his presentation. Dave could tell he was struggling, but he figured a little stage fright wasn't going to kill him.
They took the train up to Chicago to the Hyatt Regency. It was nice to be within driving distance of a conference this time. Dave tried to get Puck interested in a chapter of The Mystery of the Aleph, but he couldn't even focus long enough to listen to Dave read half a page.
"I'm sorry, man," he said, rolling his eyes. "I can't stop thinking about standing in that room and talking about math to all those smart math people. They're going to know I'm just faking this, that I'm nothing but a fraud... Fuck, this is worse than when we went with Glee to Nationals."
"It's okay," said Dave. "All academics go through it."
"Yeah, but I'm not an academic." Puck shifted in his seat, then shifted back, drumming against his leg. "Can't we talk about something else? Please? I'm freaking out here."
Dave could see he was, but what else was there to talk about? In Dave's life, there was math, and there was... yeah. He scrambled for something that would be safe. "Uh. So - your cat."
"Penumbra?"
"Yeah, her. Or is she your sister's?"
"No, she's mine. Beth found her, out in the neighbor's garden, when she was three. She kept hearing baby kitten cries, on and off. When they got worse, Beth went looking. She was this tiny little thing, no mother, nobody to take care of her. Shelby's totally allergic, so I took her." He shrugged. He seemed calmer. "We had other cats when I was in elementary school and middle school, but it'd been a while since we'd had a cat in the house. But Penumbra never got over being scared of people. Me and Sarah are the only ones who ever get to see her." He smiled at Dave. "And you."
"Yeah, you said." Dave wondered if Penumbra would tolerate being in a house with another cat. Then he stiffened, realizing exactly what he was thinking. Yeah, like that won't freak him out. Asking him to move in with you? That's awfully... serious. Permanent, or at least long-term, and... okay, not thinking about it.
Dave was terrible at not thinking about things.
It was a little strange being at an academic conference with Puck there. Dave felt his worlds colliding – which was a strange thought in and of itself, considering Puck had been squarely in the center of his mathematical world for two months. He wasn't sure what was different until he introduced Puck to Vincent.
"This is your boyfriend!" Vincent put out his arms and gave Puck a huge grin, then hugged him. "Great to meet you finally."
"Hey, yeah," Puck said, looking only a little uncomfortable, and smiling back. "You're the one who's seeing Kurt?"
Dave wouldn't have brought it up, because who knew what was going on with Kurt and Vincent these weeks after they'd had their first date, but Vincent was still smiling beatifically. "Oh, yes," he said, his voice rich and satisfied. "Kurt Hummel. What a magical creature."
Puck glanced at Dave. "I like him," he murmured.
Vincent put an arm around Puck's shoulder and walked him away. "But, Puck – that's not why you're here. Your research! I've been reading what you've sent in, and it's fascinating stuff. Tell me a little about your project. I want to hear it in your words."
Dave listened with half an ear as Puck gamely discussed braids and tangles. He'd realized what the problem was. This was the first time anyone had made the connection, at least openly, between Dave-the-mathematician, and Dave-the-gay-man-with-the-hot-boyfriend. Was anyone else going to walk the short distance between those two points and realize that Puck was also his student? There were people from Ohio State there at the conference, though none of them besides Elliott were working directly with Puck, and Dave knew Elliott already knew. How much should he worry about this?
By the time Puck and Vincent were done with their conversation, Dave decided the answer would be rather a lot. He pulled Vincent aside for a moment. "Uh, I need to ask you to keep my relationship with Puck between us. He's my student, you see, and I don't want to put my job at risk, or Puck's academic career. It's why Elliott's been advising him on his project instead of me. Conflict of interest, and all that?"
Vincent looked startled, but he nodded. "God, I never thought about that being a problem, but – I guess it would be, huh? Glad you mentioned something. Sure, I can keep it quiet." He grinned at Dave. "Boy, he's a lot cuter in person than he was in the pictures you showed me. Nice job, man."
Dave couldn't rid himself of his stupid grin or the blush for the next ten minutes.
Puck was scheduled to present on Saturday morning, which Dave thought was a lot of waiting to ask the poor undergrads to handle, but perhaps not all of them were as worried about it as Puck was. He didn't even want to get a drink after dinner. "You guys go ahead without me," Puck grimaced. "I'll try to get some sleep."
Though he thought it was possible that Puck really wouldn't want him waiting around the room with him, that it might make him feel more anxious, he thought it was more likely that Puck would actually prefer him to stay. Dave sat down on the second bed, the one they weren't going to use, and took off his shoes, trying to convey relaxed and casual. "I'm a little tired, too," he said. "I'll stay for a little while, if you don't mind."
Puck hesitated only a moment before he sat on the other side of the bed. He took Dave's hand and held it tight. "I don't mind," he said softly, giving him a smile. "Thanks."
That was really about all they needed for the hand-holding to turn into more active affection, because a grateful Puck was often motivated to thank Dave in creative ways. Dave figured reciprocating wasn't a bad way to get Puck to sleep, either. Sure enough, in less than an hour, Puck was sprawled naked on the bed, snoring lightly. Dave covered him with the awful hotel bedspread before putting his clothes back on and calling Vincent.
He got to witness Vincent talking on the phone with Kurt, which was truly amusing. Dave managed to keep his smile in check while the two of them discussed Kurt's latest script discovery. For a guy who liked to talk, Vincent was also an attentive listener, at least where Kurt was concerned.
"I won't stay out too late," Vincent promised him. "We're just getting a drink. Dave's here." He held the phone away from his mouth. "Kurt says hi. What's that? Oh, and he'll call you on Thursday as usual."
They said sweet goodbyes. Dave poked him in the shoulder. "Damn, you guys are really cute."
"I know," Vincent agreed wholeheartedly. He didn't seem to mind this idea in the least, which was a relief. Kurt deserved a good dose of cute, and there weren't too many guys who could pull it off.
Puck was reasonably well-rested the next morning, and Dave made sure he had at least a little breakfast before the presentations were scheduled to begin. "You're not going to watch, are you?" begged Puck, reviewing his notes with Elliott.
"I'll be in the back," Dave said. "I promise I won't ask any questions or anything. I'll just be there, listening."
"Fuck." Puck mopped his forehead with a paper napkin. "I'm going to forget it all."
They apparently had decided not to bother with note cards, because Puck's memory was much better than his ability to read them aloud on the fly. Dave wished he could hold his hand, but there they were, in the middle of the restaurant, and he was here as Puck's math teacher. So all he did was watch them, and drink his coffee, and try to tell Puck with his eyes how much he believed in him.
The room was reasonably crowded, but Dave found a spot near the back where he could hide behind another convention-goer if he had to. There was a screen, and a digital projector, and a white board for examples.
Puck's presentation was third. Vincent began by introducing the research program with his usual enthusiasm and thanking all the undergraduates and their advisors for participating. Dave watched Puck, or what he could see of him from the back, which consisted of a shoulder and his left knee. That wasn't nervously bouncing or anything, so Dave figured that was a good sign. Dave was glad he'd made him pack that shirt, because it was just the right mix of casual and professional.
He watched the first two students, a girl with curly blonde hair and a boy with glasses, stumble nervously through their Powerpoint presentations, making the usual mistakes, but not doing too bad a job of it. But when Puck got up in front of the room, the energy in the room shifted. Puck managed to convey a sense of calm, even just while setting up his computer. He smiled, and spoke clearly, describing what he'd be talking about. Dave was captivated - or, rather, he thought he might have been anyway, even if he hadn't been so much in love with him already.
"A tangle is a similar concept to a knot," he began, "and tangles can be considered as parts of knots, but they're also interesting by themselves." He brought up an illustration of what looked like a lot of string inside a beach ball. "The key difference is that while a knot is a closed loop, a tangle involves open line segments - in this case, two." He pointed to the string. "To keep them under control, the end points have to stay attached to the boundary of this ball. When determining equivalence, the invariants are roughly the same as for knots, unchanged under Reidemeister moves, while the ends are nailed down."
Dave couldn't help thinking of what it was like to watch Puck teach martial arts at his school. But, really, this wasn't a whole lot like that. It was more like seeing him run through one of the katas, the routines they used in class to practice the building blocks of their style. He was fluid and unhesitating in his movements, each point clearly laid out, and delivered with effective pacing. Dave watched the rest of the audience, listening attentively, and he didn't think it was forced. Puck really was a good lecturer.
Not only that, but his content was interesting and pertinent. Dave didn't know how many boring, redundant lectures he'd sat through since he began college, but there had been plenty of them. If most professors knew half of what Puck seemed to know about teaching... Dave could imagine there might be a lot more learning going on at college.
"If we compare the tangle to a braid," Puck continued, and Dave smiled, thinking about their conversation about Sarah's hair, "the braid is simpler, because it doesn't allow self-crossing strands, so it can be generated by this small, systematic set of moves, creating a group structure."
As the lecture went on, Dave began to feel a fear coalesce inside him. It had been nibbling at him for weeks now, since Puck began to show interest in Dave's research, but now emerged to give him a big chomp on the leg. I'm the academic, said the fear. I'm the one who's got to go through the brutal job search process, interviews and presentations and speaking with departments all over the country. But what if... what if Puck wants that too? How could we ever expect to get a position in the same location? Would he choose a job over - me?
Dave couldn't let it distract him from Puck's awesome presentation, but somehow the time got away from him, and before he knew it, Puck was asking for questions. He looked cool and confident, but Dave could guess what was going on under the surface. Dave had a moment of indecision where it looked like there might not be any questions, and he couldn't decide if it would be better for his to be the only question, or if he should continue trying not to draw attention to himself. But then one of Vincent's colleagues raised her hand, and when Puck responded with an informative answer, that spawned a few other questions, and everything was okay.
He took a deep breath. It was over, and he'd done just as great a job as Dave had expected him to do. Vincent looked like he might explode with excitement when he approached Puck afterward. He shook Puck's hand vigorously.
"We'll talk later about writing that up for publication," Vincent said. "I know just the journal to send it to."
Dave had no secret signal he could send that would convey no, don't talk to him about writing, but then he was kicking himself for not discussing that with Vincent earlier, because, really, he should have expected it. Across the room, Dave watched Puck's smile freeze with a sense of futility.
"I don't know, man," he started, but Vincent's enthusiasm would not be quashed.
"No buts," he chirped. "I'm going to make sure you get that line on your CV. You did a bang-up job."
Puck's head was shaking back and forth, and Dave could see the panic creeping over his hands. It was all he could do not to rush across the room and intervene, but he gripped the edge of his chair and told himself to stay put. Puck can handle this.
He stayed in the back as long as he could, watching Puck pack up his laptop as the next session began to set up. There seemed to be no end to the number of people who had questions or comments for Puck, and Dave considered slipping out the back, but he decided he really couldn't do that to him. He went up to the projector, disconnecting the power cable.
"Hey," he said casually, over his shoulder as he worked. "Where did Vincent say he wanted this?"
Puck didn't exactly relax, but he gravitated toward Dave, letting his back brush up against Dave's shoulder. "I think he's up on the eighth floor," he replied.
"Can you show me where?"
"Sure." Puck smiled at the two graduate students currently asking questions. "Can we finish this at the banquet tonight? I want to hear more about those fractions you are working on."
The elevator was crowded, but there was no one in the hallway on the eighth floor when they stepped off. Dave felt safe enough to give him a quick hug and kiss. "You did so well," he told him. Puck let the projector case drop to the floor, and he clung to Dave for just a moment.
"Yeah, but apparently it's not over," he muttered. "I thought this would be it. But it kind of never ends, does it?" He shuddered. "God, I don't think I could stand it."
"Publish or perish," Dave agreed. "The life of an academic. I think you have to love it to put up with it."
Puck took a step back as the elevator opened again and two people got off, disappearing down the hall, but as soon as they were out of sight, he moved right into Dave's arms again. "Well, there's no fucking way I'd deal with this all the time. I did it, and now I'm done, okay?"
Dave laughed. "Hey, it's not like jogging or something. If you don't like it, nobody's going to make you do it."
Puck's eyebrow went up. "Oh, yeah? You totally made me do this." He bent down and picked up the projector case, taking Dave's hand. "And now I'm going to relax and enjoy the rest of my vacation, and if Vincent says one fucking word about publishing or anything, I'm going to plug my ears and go la la la la. Got it?"
"Okay," Dave agreed, feeling bemused. They located Vincent's room and delivered the projector safely to Vincent's roommate. It wasn't until they were back in the elevator and Puck pushed the button for their own floor that Dave felt like he could ask for clarification.
"So... you don't think you'd want to do... this?" He made a gesture. "Being an academic. Going to school, studying the subjects you seem to love so much. It could be your life."
"Uh..." Puck stared at him, a little incredulous. "No. Are you kidding me?"
"Hey, it's not such a crazy idea. You did a great job with your presentation, and you're an excellent teacher." Dave avoided his stare, digging in his pocket for their room key. "You could."
"Yeah, and I could shove bamboo splinters under my fingernails. It might be less tortuous." Puck snorted, shaking his head. "Fuck that. I'll leave the professional thinking to you. I'm perfectly happy beating up little kids all day and pretending to be a grown-up."
Dave leaned on the door frame, watching Puck push past him into the room, drop his laptop case against the wall and strip off his tie. He took a moment to breathe through the relief he felt, and the subsequent sense of gratitude.
"You coming in or what?" Puck called. "I'm not getting naked in here for my health, you know."
Dave smiled. "Okay, okay, I'm coming." He followed Puck into the room, and saw that he was actually...maybe not quite naked, but well on his way. "Wow, you're not wasting any time."
"What can I say? Pressure's off, and my hot boyfriend's been staring at me for the last forty-five minutes." Puck made short work of the buttons on his neatly pressed shirt, leaving it wadded in a ball on the floor, and took Dave's face in his hands for a kiss. "My turn to have some fun."
They said goodbye to Vincent in the lobby, Puck shaking his hand, Dave hugging him, both smiling at his gaudy soccer jersey. "You coming to visit Kurt sometime?" Puck said, surprising Dave. "'Cause I'm sure my kid would love to play a little one-on-one with you."
"Hey, sure," Vincent beamed. "I would love that, too. And you guys are always welcome to San Francisco. I have a guest room, and I'm within walking distance of a great Thai restaurant - not to mention there's a gay dance club around the corner."
"Oh - " said Dave, not quite sure how to say never, not in a million years, and thanks anyway, but Vincent was already grinning at Puck, and Puck was grinning back, and then they laughed.
"I can totally see why Kurt likes him," Puck told him after they boarded the train. "He's kind of extreme, in all directions? But really nice. Kurt needs a guy like that."
Dave took his hand. "You know, you really don't have to write a paper about your research. Or do anything you don't want to do. I don't want you to do it for Vincent, or for me. I want you to do it for you."
Puck stared out the window for a good three minutes before he cleared his throat. By then, Dave had just about forgotten what their conversation was about, but Puck apparently hadn't. He looked at Puck. "What is it?"
"I, uh..." Puck's face was red, and he wasn't looking back. Dave squeezed his hand.
"What?" Dave asked again.
"I want to do things. For you." He was barely audible.
"Oh." Now Dave got it. "Babe, that's fine, and... I love it, but something like this, the only reason it would make me happy is if it's something you need. And if it's just... awful, I wouldn't ever want you to do that just for me."
Puck shook his head. "You don't get it. I've never had anybody to do things for, before. Except Beth, and it's a little different. You make me want to... to try harder. To do more, to do better. Things I never thought I could do before." He was squeezing Dave's hand hard enough to hurt now. "You make me feel like I can."
Dave ignored the pain in his hand and tried to squeeze back. "I know you can," he said. "But you can do so many things, you know? You can pick the ones that make you happy." He smiled. "Or me, I guess, if you want. But if it's not good for you, you shouldn't do it."
Puck nodded soberly, absorbing this. "Even if - if it's good for us?" He stretched his legs and sighed. "I don't always know what's good for me. Seems easier to look at the big picture, sometimes, if I can't figure myself out."
"I know, babe," Dave said. "That's okay, too. If I think you're missing something important, I'll take care of that, and...we'll be fine."
