A/N: If you may have had any questions about who the true super villain in this story is besides Puck and Kurt's own personal baggage, I doubt you'll wonder after this lil' chappy. Shit be goin' down once again! Feedback please and thank you.
As soon as he enters the lobby area and manuevers toward the corridor leading back to the dorms he's pulled aside, a pale hand gripping his and dragging him determinately forward.
"Kurt -what the fu-"
"Don't talk. Just walk."
They're making their way toward the East wing, not too far from where the holding cells for the markedly suicidal, homicidal and for lack of a better term, deranged are kept. It's quieter here, devoid of any traffic or life; with the exception of the patients sporadic wailing and crying at night.
"Where the hell are we g-"
"Somewhere. Just anywhere away from them. I need to be alone with you. Now."
They walk along for about a minute before realization crashes back down on Puck. He shirks his hand away causing Kurt to stop, eyes wide with speculation.
"What was that for?-"
"Oh, fuck off Kurt!"
"W-what?" His voice is soft, nearly a whisper. But it reeks of fear, disbelief.
"You heard me Fancy! I said fuck off!"
Kurt's bottom lip was trembling slightly, his blue eyes suddenly overly bright.
"W-why are you saying this? What's wrong with you?"
"You! That's what's wrong with me. You couldn't keep your fuckin' mouth shut could you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about-"
"Oh, of course you don't. The minute you manage to get your tongue down my fuckin' throat it's all over the six o'clock news."
Kurt is shaking his head, trying to understand but looking like a lost, scared child who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and was awaiting the inevitable punishment that was sure to come.
"Noah. I don't know what you're talking about."
"They know. You're fuckin' fruit flies? They fuckin' know about us."
"What? I-I never said anything-"
"Ah, c'mon Kurt? You talk about everything with them including shit like the best method to remove your fuckin' ass hair. I know you talked to them!"
Kurt was rigid, standing with his fists clenched and jaw set.
"Whatever they told you, it never came from me. Did it ever occur to you that maybe they just figured it out?"
"No. How could they have?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's the way that you always seem to just show up whenever I'm around and engage in things like making fucking stupid necklaces. An activity you clearly couldn't hate more. Or maybe it's the way you always ask about me if I'm running late, or how you wait for me if I'm the last one leaving group, or how you keep stealing fucking juice boxes for me or give me your left over fruit from lunch and always check to see if I've eaten anything today."
Puck is blushing now, his lips pressed in a thin line as Kurt continues his rant.
"Or maybe it's how you're not completely ripping people's heads off anymore. Or the fact that I see how you look at me. And I know. I know, Noah. Fuck me, I get it. Even if you can't or won't ever be able to admit it to yourself, let alone anybody else. Your eyes don't lie."
Kurt was whispering now, his eyes trained on the floor.
"Even if your mouth does." And with that, Kurt turned to leave.
Puck went from rageful indignation, to being suddenly and incontrovertibly guilt stricken. His heart felt heavy with it: the guilt, simpering and cloak like.
Kurt had already made it down the hall when Puck had caught up to him and spun him around, pulling him into his arms forcefully.
"Let me go!"
"No!"
"Leave me alone Noah!"
"No!"
Kurt was pushing, wriggling, doing any and everything to get Noah to release him from the tight hold he was crushing him in. The tears fell from Kurt's eyes with complete abandon, his face flushed red as he struggled, beating on Puck's chest in hopes to initiate a break in his determined hold.
But Puck was nothing if not stubborn. He took every punch, every slap, and simply held him tighter, effectively pinning Kurt's arms to his sides and hugging him with everything he could muster.
Kurt was sobbing now, and Puck couldn't help but feel an unfamiliar sting behind his own eyes, warm and pooling, waiting to drift down his cheeks.
Saying sorry wasn't enough. The words would be empty, and Puck had never been good with them anyhow.
So instead he crashes their lips together, pushing them back into the nearest wall. Kurt had his hands against his chest attempting to push him away, trying to duck his head. Puck just cupped his face in his hands and held him steady, hoping that this: his useless, chapped lips would communicate everything that his words never would be able to.
Eventually Kurt's punches cease, and he relaxes into Puck, letting his hands finger themselves into Puck's uniform shirt, weaving into the fabric with an almost manic need.
The tears have long since left Puck's eyes as the kisses turn less frantic, and more loving in nature. Kurt has his arms around Puck's neck now, moaning into each caress of the tongue, reveling in Puck tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth.
When they finally do pull away in order to catch their breath, letting their foreheads rest against each other, Kurt speaks.
"I hate you."
Puck smiles. "That's too bad. Because I love you."
Kurt nuzzles his nose against Puck's and chuckles softly.
"I knew it."
They pull apart like they were both negatives in a magnetic force. Puck looks up with wide eyes and sees her slight frame shaking with distress, her green eyes burning.
"I knew you were with him."
Puck was un-nerved by her voice which sounded monotone and oddly even given her tense posture.
"Is that why you could never fuck me Puckerman? Cause you wanted dick this whole time?"
Kurt is eyeing him, while Puck only has eyes for the girl watching him from down the hall.
"Quinn-"
"Maybe I just should've let you fuck me in the ass, huh? Maybe then you would've done it."
"Quinn stop-"
"God. This is hilarious actually. The biggest homophobe on the planet is in reality the biggest fag there is."
Puck winces at the term but doesn't respond.
"All I ever wanted was to be yours. Don't you get it. I just wanted to be yours," she says brokenly, her voice trailing off into a raspy whisper. Her green orbs are now glued to the worn carpeted floor.
"I-I-don't... Quinn. Look at me. Please."
She was startled into following his direction. She had never heard him use that word before. She never knew he was capable of it.
Puck walked forward as he spoke. Kurt reluctantly loosening his hold on his arm. Puck senses the other boy's worry and gives him a reassuring quirk of the lips before turning back toward the blonde who was watching the exchange with blooming curiousity.
"I couldn't be what you needed. And I can never be what you need. What we had. It was just some half assed scheme so we wouldn't feel so lonely all the time. I can't have you. No one can, because you're too good - too awesome of a girl to be kept by anyone."
Quinn's mouth is slightly agape as her eyes swim with unshed tears.
"What we were doing was just... It was comfortable. But I couldn't go all the way with you. Because of how broken both of us are Quinn. Because we were just usin' each other. It wouldn't have been right. In the end."
The tears spill fast from jade. Kurt is quietly wiping his own eyes.
"What if I tell? I can tell you know? About you being with him."
Puck observes her with unmistakable pity. Then looks over at Kurt with a proud smile as he says, "You do that Quinn. Just don't forget the part about me loving him too. Okay?"
Quinn makes a choking sound, then turns her gaze to Kurt, her lips shaking as badly as her petite frame. It's obvious she wants to say something but is steeling herself to find the right words. She finally brings her eyes back up to meet Puck's, who is gazing at her sadly.
He reaches up and brushes a stray tear away from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
"Did you ever love me?" She croaks, her throat surpressing a lingering sob.
Puck shakes his head solemnly. "No. But I like you. A lot. When you're not being all fuckin' loony and stalkerish."
This prompts a wet chuckle from her as she wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand, sniffling, and red faced. Puck pulls her into a hug which she gratefully returns.
"Well khum-bay-fuckin'-yah. What interesting little scene did I just happen to stumble upon?"
Puck rolls his eyes as Gavin enters the corridor with that ever present sneer on his face.
"I'd say it looks like you were getting ready for a threesome. That is if that one wasn't as queer as a three dollar bill," Gavin laughed as he nodded his head toward Kurt who seemed to shrink under his gaze.
"Leave him alone."
Gavin chortles at Puck's admission. A black club slides into his grip, and before Puck can blink, he's on his knees after being clipped in the back of the leg with a forceful blow.
"Noah!"
"What the hell are you doing?" Quinn yells as she kneels by Puck's side and starts to pull him up.
"Leave him and get going Fabray."
"N-no. I'm not-"
"Get lost or I'll put your ass in the quiet room for a couple of days. No where to hole up and spew up your din-din I'm afraid when you're in there. Just you, in a padded cell, with all your little self hating voices doing monologues in your head until you can't take it anymore."
Quinn looked stricken, fearful.
"Leave her alone Ga-Ow!-fuck!" Gavin struck Puck hard on his shoulder. Kurt ran forward but was halted but Gavin holding out the club threateningly.
"Now I don't want to bruise that pretty porcelain skin of yours Dorothy. So unless you want me to give you some natural eye make up, I would stay put. Move it Fabray!" He shouted as an afterthought. Quinn slowly backed out of the hallway, her eyes pleading and filled with anxiety. Puck tried to give her a nod to symbolize his understanding but he was in too much pain to manage anything more then a grimace.
Once she had disappeared, Gavin watching to make sure that she had fully retreated out of the immediate vicinity, he speaks with clear amusement lacing his words.
"And here we are once again."
"What are you even doing here Gavin?" Puck spits.
"Oh just searching for the patients who happened to not show up for their scheduled Arts class. Got word from the counselor running that group and decided to check on it myself. Then I looked in the computer lab, then the gym, everywhere they could potentially be for a leisure activity. But alas, no sign of them. But then here they are, in the most isolated part of the facility of course, probably sucking each others cocks."
"Look we get it alright. We learned our lesson. You proved your point. We'll go back to the Arts room."
Gavin is tapping the club in his open palm, his brow scrunched in mock concentration. Puck doesn't like the gleam in his dark eyes; doesn't like the way they keep volleying back and forth between himself and Kurt.
"No. See, Puckerman. I don't think you have learned your lesson. Not quite. Stand up." He orders darkly. Puck hesitates.
"Stand up, or I crack this over the fag's head and you get to watch him bleed out."
Puck swallows, not completely convinced that Gavin wouldn't do it and then try to blame Puck. He stands, trying not to put too much weight on his leg that's likely already bruised.
Just as he manages to get his footing, he's struck again in the same leg sending him crashing down.
"Stop! Leave him alone!" Kurt screams, rushing forward and kneeling by Puck's side. Gavin is laughing heartily, his mood completely jovial.
"Aww. Looks like the fag is in love. That's beautiful. Truly. I guess we'll have to see how much he really cares."
Puck is clutching his leg, writhing on the floor, but still can't help but feel the shiver run up his spine by the orderly's words. Like an unspoken promise of something terrible to come.
"Unless you two don't want to end up in the quiet room for a week, and you don't want your little fuck buddy to be in a wheel chair-" he added pointing at Kurt with the club to indicate Puck- "then I'm going to need you to show me what you two do."
"W-what?"
"C'mon Hummel. Show me what you two fags get up to."
"I-I don't understand-"
"I want you to blow Puckerman here."
Puck's head is reeling. Surely someone was around? Fuck - how is it that they always manage to be in the most deserted fucking corridors ever in this place when shit goes down?
"You're fuckin' sick! Aw!" Another blow to his leg. Kurt was still in shock, his eyes shallow and haunted looking.
"Y-you can't do this," He breathes.
Another blow rains down on Puck's leg causing him to cry out.
"C'mon Hummel. If you really don't want me to hurt your little boyfriend, then you'll suck him clean."
Another strike. And Puck is sure his knee may be dislocated.
"Okay. P-p-please. Just stop hurting him."
"K-Kurt. Get away from me," Puck pleads. But there's something in Kurt that seems broken, unattainable. He stalks toward him, crawling over like a feline creature. The movements are exuding a wanton sexual prowess; they're obviously well practiced. Easy enough for a kid who's spent too many nights being somebody's whore Puck thinks sadly.
"Puckerman. You'd better sit up and let him or I'm gonna do worse things to him after I lock your ass up in the quiet room. Got it? Better to cooperate if you want to save him from dealing with me later."
Puck has had many moments in his life where's he felt powerless. But nearly nothing that he could think of could compare to his sense of helplessness at that very moment. He didn't care if Gavin beat him to death, but the very thought of Kurt being hurt, being used by him... It seriously broke him.
He wordlessly sits up.
"Stand. Up. Puckerman."
Kurt is already waiting for him on his knees, his blue eyes dead looking. Puck slowly gets to his feet, putting all his weight on one leg as the other throbs painfully.
Puck stares ahead at Gavin. He wishes that the man could feel the hate he feels coursing through him. Wishes that his eyes could glare holes in his beer belly, and that Puck could use the entrails poking through the holes to wrap around his neck and choke the bastard to death. This image is what he focuses on. Anything to pretend that he doesn't feel Kurt's hands rubbing up his thighs, inching toward his draw string.
"Touch him. Cup him through his pants before you do it." Gavin sounds slightly breathless, his teeth teasing his lip as he watches in anticipation.
Kurt obeys immediately. Puck feels tears prick his eyes when Kurt's hand runs over his cock, moving up and down carefully.
God help him. He feels himself getting hard under Kurt's touch, and he hates himself for it.
"Stroke him. Hard."
Puck makes the mistake of looking down at Kurt.
He had never seen the boy look so horribly... non-existant. His eyes were vacant, although they were trained forward on Puck's lengthening cock; his hand wrapping around Puck through the thin fabric and stroking fervently.
At first all he could hear was the buzzing in his head, Gavin's steady breathing, and the shuffling of cloth. Then he heard it: the distinct sound of metal tinkling and clanging.
Gavin must've heard it too, because he took a steadying breath and shook his head as if ridding himself of this other personality as the sound neared them.
Jerry's voice boomed out into the previously empty corridor as he rounded the corner and cast his eyes carefully over the scene in front of him.
"What's going on here?"
Gavin had already put his club back in his belt loop. "I just caught these two in the middle of a-ah-well, looks to be um-some sexual activity."
"What? You're a fuckin' li-"
Kurt's nails had dug into Puck's thighs causing him to hiss in pain. His blue eyes watching him hard, pleading as he looked up from the position on his knees.
Puck understood then what Kurt hadn't said verbally... A plea for him to shut up, let it be. Puck remained quiet while Gavin continued.
"They were both scheduled for Art class and I ended up finding them here instead."
Jerry exhales slowly and then huffs. "Alright. C'mon boys. Kurt. I need you to stand up."
Kurt listens without a word, moving stiffly, and turns away from Puck while staring out at the wall.
"Look you boys know the rules. That kind of behavior isn't tolerated and earns you an immediate stint in the quiet room. You both'll be in there for a twelve hour stay."
Jerry huffs again. "Normally we have to report these sort of things to Dr. Schuester but-I... I don't think it's necessary. At least this time anyway. But there better not be a next time," he warns.
Puck nods dumbly. Kurt just continues looking past them all, staring without really seeing.
"Follow me boys. I'll take it from here Gavin."
"Right. I'll just get back then."
Puck winces when he steps forward, catching Gavin's eye.
"What happened Puckerman? Why're you limping?"
Gavin's dark eyes narrow into slits.
"Um. Nothin'. I just-I twisted my knee playing basketball the other day."
"Oh. Well must've been pretty bad the way you're movin'."
Gavin's sneer is back in place as he walks away.
"Yeah. I guess."
"Next time make sure to go straight to the nurse. Do you need me to take you now?"
"No. No, it's fine. Let's just go."
"Alright man. If you insist. Kurt," he gestures toward the other boy who had remained standing in a state of robotic rigidity during their exchange.
"Kurt?" Jerry repeats.
"Y-yes."
"Let's get goin'."
Kurt mutely follows after Jerry who takes care to walk slow so that Puck can keep up as he brings up the rear.