Whew! I am just on a roll! This whole updating-a-buttload-of-things thing is in no way normal for me, so don't get used to it. I'm usually inexcusably slow. So, yeah. I don't own, review or else, yadda yadda, meow. Love- Maya
Kurt chewed anxiously at his lip as he pulled up to the Puckerman house the next morning. The punk had been so weird yesterday, he couldn't even begin. Saving him, talking to him, following him around; all weird. He shook his head. Whatever, Puck's weirdness was none of his business. One more ride, then he was home-free.
He took out his phone. He had Puck's number—all the gleeks had each other's numbers—but he had to go hunting for it in his contacts, as he and Puck hardly spent hours a day gabbing on the phone. When, at length, he found the number, he shot off a text to alert the weirdo of his presence, then started prepping for his project.
Puck climbed out of his shower to his phone buzzing on the sink with a new message. It was from Hummel: I'm outside. If you're not out in 10, I'm leaving.
"Shit," Puck muttered. Damn Hummel and his perfect grammar; it would help absolutely no one if Hummel managed to escape before he could enact his master plan. He made the quickest work he could of drying himself off, throwing on clean-enough jeans and a fresh t-shirt. Choosing his leather jacket over his letterman, he shoved his phone into his pocket and scampered down the stairs.
His mother watched him race past from the kitchen, snatching up his bag as he went, with tired eyes. "What's your rush, Noah?"
He slowed to answer, but didn't stop. "My ride's waiting."
Ruth's eyebrows rose, and she lifted her mug to her lips. "That better not be a double-entendre."
"I don't know what that means!" he all but sing-songed over his shoulder, wrenching the door open and barreling through. His mother rolled her eyes, but he didn't see through the shut door.
Puck jogged down the walk, Hummel's shiny black Navigator waiting at the end of it. As he drew nearer, he saw that Hummel had earbuds in his ears, his lips moving in song. Puck slowed to listen; Hummel was singing softly, but Puck could hear through the car door:
"Scars make us who we are.
"Hearts and homes are broken, broken—"
Hummel broke off with an irritated noise. "No, no," he muttered. "Still too damn high." He started scrolling through his iPod, his brow furrowed. Puck tapped on the window, and Hummel jumped a mile. He blinked at Puck for a few seconds, then popped the locks and in he hopped.
"Heard you singing," Puck commented.
"You've heard me singing before," Hummel retorted, removing his earbuds and pulling away from the curb. "Nothing new."
"New song. 'S it for Glee?"
"Nope." Hummel volunteered no further information.
Fine; I push, you pull. "What's it for?"
"Personal project."
Puck cocked a suggestive eyebrow. "You serenading somebody?"
Hummel sorted, giving Puck all the answer he needed. "Who would I possibly? And even if I were, I wouldn't tell you."
"Not even Finn?" Puck mock-gasped.
A short, true laugh escaped Hummel, making Puck grin. "Ew, no!"
"You suuuuure?"
"Yes!" Hummel reached over and swatted him on the arm, like they were friends—the boy didn't even seem to realize he'd done it—and Puck found he didn't mind. "That was a textbook, schoolgirl crush on the quarterback; it doesn't even bear mention."
"You liked him 'cause he was the quarterback?"
"Don't put words in my mouth." His tone remained genuinely light. "I liked him because, despite being the cute, popular quarterback, he was goofy and nice to me."
"He's an idiot."
"I knew that, but I thought it was cute at the time. Like a lost puppy."
Puck crossed his arms and leaned back petulantly into his seat. "A really dumb puppy that shits on everything and rips up the furniture."
Hummel laughed, and this time he didn't even seem to fight it. "Well-put, Puckerman." Puck smirked. "But I woke up and saw the mess, so Finn's exclusively my brother now." He blinked, as if surprised, before throwing Puck a sheepish glance. "Not that it's your business."
Puck laughed at the belated salvage attempt. "Bit late for that, but fine. Subject change."
"Yes, good." Hummel relaxed, slightly but noticeably.
"How I'm making this ride worth your while."
A skeptical smirk curved Hummel's lips. "Do tell."
"I'm gonna get the bullies off your ass."
Hummel's face slackened in surprise as he tried to pick one of the many questions that had surely popped into his head. "Why on earth would you do that?" he finally asked.
Puck shrugged, like it was no big deal. "It bugged me yesterday, not only seeing you getting harassed right in front of me, but how much it bothers you, even though you try to hide it."
Hummel was staring extra-hard at the road, his knuckles white again. A hint of color rose from beneath the collar of his shirt, up his neck to his face and ears. "Why would any of that bother you?"
Another shrug from Puck. "Dunno, but it does, and I hate being bothered. So, I'll put a stop to it."
"You're so selfish." There was a faint smile on Hummel's face, though, so Puck elected not to get offended. "I don't think you'll be able to stop it though."
Puck furrowed his brow and sat up, now getting offended. "What do you mean, I can't?"
Hummel sighed, turning into the school parking lot. "You won't be able to stop all of them, at least. Some of them have… different reasons for… what they do."
"And those are?"
"No one's business, is what they are, not even mine."
Puck was quiet while the other boy parked. He just sat and stared until Hummel pulled the key from the ignition. "Let me try, then," he finally said.
On an exhausted sigh, Hummel's eyes fell closed, then reopened to lock with Puck's. Puck felt the inexplicable urge to hold his breath as Hummel searched his gaze (for what, he didn't know), and he wondered why he needed Hummel to accept his help so badly.
At length, Hummel released him from his stare, and Puck exhaled. "Fine," Hummel said resignedly. "What do you have in mind?"
Song is Outlaws of Love by Adam Lambert. I own neither the song nor Adam Lambert, and I cry every day over the latter.