The next day Puck got to put a face to those blue eyes.
He had almost forgotten all about their encounter in the midst of squirming underneath the weight of three grown men and fighting off the inevitable reaction of sedation. They were just as blue today as they were yesterday.
The blue eyed stranger was sitting across from Jacob Israel. The poster boy for suicidal patheticness rolled up into a scrawny, Jewish package.
Jacob was quietly picking at his food, failing to make eye contact while the other boy eyed him curiously, his pouty mouth moving every so often indicating some valiant effort to engage the Jew in some semblance of conversation.
Puckerman smirked as he made his way over to their table with his own tray in hand.
"Sup, Jew Fro?"
Jacob didn't turn to address him, his eyes fixated on his tuna sandwhich, his posture suddenly more rigid.
"I t-told you, Puckerman. My name is Jacob."
"You know Jew stain, I have a theory that your Mom probably has some spook blood in her family tree. That or she fucked some porch monkey and he's your real Daddy. That fro has a little too much authenticity to it if you ask me."
"Well I-I didn't... Ask you, that is."
Puck chanced a look at the boy sitting across from both he and Jacob. He was smiling. At Jacob's stupid attempt at humor no less. He never could register embarrassment as simply embarrassment. It always transformed easily into agitation, anger.
Puck grabbed Jacob by the front of his shirt and yanked him forward.
"Are you being a fuckin' smart ass with me in front of our new guest, Jacob?"
"N-n-no."
"Good," and he released the boy and took the apple from his tray for good measure. "You're a Jew after all. I'm glad you're smart enough to know when to save it."
Puck was sure his outburst would've earned him a look of fear from the new comer, maybe even contempt. He was therefore surprised to see the lithe, pale skinned newbie still grinning; his lips curved ever so slightly hinting at his amusement.
"Fuck you lookin' at newbie?"
"Not sure yet," he answered lazily.
His voice was high pitched. Too high pitched. Like a soft spoken woman or other worldly being.
"Great. We got a fro headed Jewbie and a faggot newbie sittin' together. Now we just need a wet back and we'll have our own rainbow coalition."
The newbie leaned forward, balancing his smooth chin on his open palm, his soft eyes glinting. Puck couldn't tell if it was curiousity or maybe something else.
"I think I have an answer for the question you asked before."
"What?" He was caught off guard by this admission.
"As far as I can tell you're some neo natzi delinquent who uses intimidation to either make up for the fact that he has the penis the size of a toddler, or to forget all the nights that Daddy got drunk and beat him senseless."
Puck opened his mouth to answer, but the words felt stuck in his throat.
"Judging by the way you're gaping like a complete, an utter ignoramus, I'll guess the latter. Too many punches to the head can cause brain damage they say."
Jacob swallowed. Puck was momentarily stunned. No one had ever had the balls to speak to him that way. At least none that wanted to keep their teeth. It was degrading. This pasty faced faggot actually stunned him, Noah fucking Puckerman, into silence.
All he could muster was a sneer worthy of Hitler himself. He sank his teeth into his apple, an attempt to seem unaffected as he trailed his dark eyes over the smaller boy.
"A mouthy faggot, huh?" He taunted with his mouth full, bits of apple trailing messily over his bottom lip. "I didn't know your kind could do anything more then keep their mouths full'a dick. I stand corrected."
"Oh we do that too," the boy responded coolly. "I usually like to get a name first. My name is Kurt," and he slid his hand out for Puck to shake. "And you are?"
Puck bristled, his sneer wavering, then slipping back into place as he placed the half eaten apple into the boy's awaiting hand.
"Puck."
"It's actually Noah Puckerman," Jacob spoke up.
Puck shot him a warning glare, immediately cajoling him into a tense silence.
"Hm. Puckerman. Isn't that Jewish?"
Jacob - who had once before made the mistake of pointing this exact observation out to Noah - visibly flinched, recalling the extremely intense moment of pain of having to have his nose reset after voicing the connection aloud.
Puck was sure he was supposed to dive across the table now. But yet he remained still, regarding the teen sitting across from him with growing intrigue. He wasn't used to this. Someone battling back, trading shot for shot. He was only used to dominating and crushing his opposition.
"You know Fag. You're lucky I don't hit women."
The boy - Kurt, was it? - Rubbed the sleek untainted portion of the apple on his gray uniform shirt, and took a delicate bite before replacing it in front of Puck with a sly grin.
"Thanks for sharing Puckerman. Jacob," He finished pointedly, throwing Jacob - who looked torn between shrinking under the table or leading a round of applause - a solemn nod before retreating.
Puck observed the boy as he sauntered away, almost floating.
He really was like a woman. His movements were calculated, graceful; hell his hips even switched when he walked. He was well spoken, probably the rejected offspring of some richy state senator or something. His brown hair was trimmed, light bangs wafting over his carefully manicured brow.
"It's official Jacob. Someone in here is more faggy then you. Congrats dude!"
"Er, thanks. I guess."
"You're welcome," said Puck with an air of contentment; wasting no time as he snatched Jacob's apple juice carton, chugging it down in a single gulp.
It was weird. Puck actually felt a twinge of a giddiness he hadn't felt in a while. Finally... New, and very interesting prey.
"So then, it just, I don't know. The more I kept trying not to think about it, the more I kept thinking about it, you know?"
Dr. Schuester gives the nerd a wry grin. Puck figures it was supposed to be some show of encouragement. It looked more like a grimace brought on by listening to too many years worth of sob stories.
"It's normal to feel some level of anxiety Adam. What happened was traumatic for you."
Puck groans audibly. How much more ass is this Doctor going to kiss before getting to the point? Dr. Schuester ignores Puck's disruptive gesture and continues.
"You lost your Uncle in a plane crash. It was an abrupt, traumatic, loss -"
"Aw, Come on. Dude, you can't be serious?"
Dr. Schuester sighs, guessing that the inevitable was probably soon to befall the group.
"You lost your Uncle who you probably didn't give two shits about in a plane crash. Dude, that's what you're pissin' and moanin' about?"
"Noah, you shouldn't judge Adam for sharing his feelings. We don't do that here. You know that- "
"Who's judging? I'm just stating the facts. This dude is obsessing over being killed in a plane crash when he comes from a po dunk, hick town that he'll never drive out of let alone fly from. And you're sayin' that that obsession is valid? Jesus H, Doc, you might as well put the kid out of his misery cause they only thing he should be obsessing over that he'll never get, is pussy."
"Noah that's enough! Now I've warned you. If you can't be respectful to your peers then I'll have you put in the quiet room for the next twelve hours."
"I'm sorry," He trills playfully. "Adam. Adam, is it?"
The chubby teen lifts his dirty blonde head, shiny with grease, and nods in confirmation.
"Right. I'm sorry... But you're seriously not getting laid any time soon-"
"Alright Noah that's it!"
"Wait Doc! C'mon I was only jokin'-"
"Jerry, Gavin. Can you please escort Mr. Puckerman to the quiet room. He can try joining us again tomorrow."
"Schue, c'mon man-"
"He needs time to think about his future with us."
Puck doesn't fight as the two orderlies pin his arms behind him and lead him away from the group, his feet dragging comically as he's pulled along.
"You can't put this on my record Schue. I still came to group. This doesn't count."
Dr. Schuester ignores the surly teen's remarks and proceeds as if a musclely seventeen year old being dragged out forcibly wasn't distracting in the slightest.
"Now Adam, um we'll finish talking in our individual session, okay? Kurt?"
"Yes?"
"Do you want to tell the group a little about why you're here?"
Puck perks up, trying to turn his head to get a glimpse of the pale teen as he nears the door.
A brief pause, and then a simple, "No."
"It's okay if you're not ready yet," Dr. Schuester tried.
"No. It's more like I lost my inspiration. My only form of entertainment just left the room."
Puck couldn't help the smile that lingered on his lips as he was ushered forward. For a moment he almost forgot that he was soon to be suffering twelve hours of padded solitude. But even when the realization came, for the first time in a long time, the urge to fight never overtook him.
His meds always did this: made him feel foggy, disoriented. He sat in the group, two seats over from Dr. Schuester and straight across from the interesting little fag kid.
Dr. Schuester was asking something. Wait was he talking to him? He attempted to tune back in, pushing back his other thoughts of deer hunting, fucking that girl Tabitha in his truck bed under the stars, that stupid blank expression etched on the fag's face...
"Er, what?"
"I said, maybe you'd like to share today?"
Puck shook his head. "Share what?"
"Well, I thought maybe recalling why you're in here could be helpful. Not just to you yourself, but it may help others feel comfortable with sharing as well."
Puck felt his sneer begin to formulate on his face, but the meds caused it to become mishapen, stretched into a taut line.
"Funny. You want me to talk today." It was a statement. Not a question.
"Why is that funny Noah?"
The line of his mouth stretched impossibly thinner.
"Cause I pretty much monopolized the conversation yesterday. Now you want me to talk. It's just, funny is all."
"If you don't mind," said Dr. Schuester, indicating that he indeed is being serious and wants Puck to openly share his story.
"Alright. Well, I'm in here for something horrible. And when I think about it. It really was all my fault. And I feel completely awful about it. But I take full responsibility now."
His dark eyes catch soft blue staring avidly at him, hanging on his every word despite the cool demeanor emanating from the poised figure.
"I... fucked a duck. Puck, fucked a duck. And now he's stuck."
He couldn't keep a straight face as his giggles erupted throughout the last part, "Some dumb luck. Schucks."
Dr. Schuester is shaking his head, his face down cast, hiding the flashing anger storming in his greyish orbs.
But Kurt, he laughs. He laughs hard. A sweet sounding chuckle that rings throughout the room like a church bell on Easter Sunday.
Aw, well, one more twelve hour stint may just be worth that annoyingly adorable laugh Puck thinks to himself. It was nice to actually hear real laughter in this hell hole of a place. Even nicer to know that it can be prompted by a screw up like him.
"Hey Fag. Jew."
Jacob shakes his head vigorously, a warning for the other teen to let it go. Kurt exhales, and flicks his eyes over the offending culprit currently plopping down at the lunch table with them.
"Puckerman," Kurt greets almost politely. Puck can't tell though, it's like the kid is made of porcelain: pale, straight lines, pouty lips, crystal eyes, and a talent for hiding his emotions.
"Are you gonna take my orange today, cause, I-I sort of need my vitamin C."
Puck glances over at the bespectacled boy who's desperately refuting eye contact with him. He seriously wonders how this kid can't have some black roots in his family tree, his curls are so tight and course, like a brillow pad.
"I hate oranges. And that's the only reason," he warns with a pointed glare, sending Jacob into a nodding fit.
"O-of course. Thanks."
He begins to dig into his oatmeal, breaking his burnt toast apart and skimming it into the thick substance.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Not that I really want to hear your annoyingly faggy voice, but whatever."
"Why do you do that?"
Puck's dark eyes narrow. Here the little bastard goes again. He's not sure if he likes this new thing of being caught off gaurd. It feels weird. Disconcerting.
"What?"
"Why do you do that? What you just did?"
Puck feels a squirming sensation in his gut. Where is this kid going with this?
"Enlighten me, Lady."
Kurt actually smiles at that, but it's still hiding something, a mask.
"That. Getting all macho male practice when it's clear that you actually want to be sitting here with us."
Puck feels the knot tighten.
"Look," he says darkly, "don't start soakin' your panties thinkin' some shit like that. I just like this table. I've sat here for over six months straight which basically makes it my property, and you two are just a bonus."
Kurt's blue eyes sparkle - Actually fucking sparkle - at this comment.
"Really?" His tone teasing.
Puck realizes how he just sounded. Even Jacob seems close to breaking a smile.
"C'mon it's too fuckin' easy. I mean look at this pathetic sack of Jew. Glasses made from actual two liters, a fuckin' hair-do straight from the Frederick Douglas autobiagraphy, and no visible spine. And you -"
"Yes?" Kurt supplies, clearly amused.
"Some rainbow waving friend of Dorothy, hip switchin', pasty faced fag-boy with a voice that even Mickey Mouse wishes he could score? Dude... too easy, and entertaining."
Puck is sure this will have the expected effect. It definitely does on Jacob judging by the way he seems to be melting into the table. But that fucking fag kid... Damn, he's actually chuckling. That same stupid, but sort of intriguing one he did the other day in group. Puck is bemused. No qualms about it.
For a moment there's a pause, a tension enveloping their table.
"I find you interesting too, Noah," he says simply.
He then gathers his tray, and turns to leave, that same switch in his hips as prominent as ever as he nearly sache's out of the mess hall.
"That kid is fuckin' weird, dude."
"I-I guess," Jacob stammers out. He moves with a shaking hand to grab his orange.
"Gimme that, Jew nut!" and Puck snatches it, his eyes still focused on the place that Kurt boy disappeared from.
What. The. Hell.