This took me forever. And then it's short. What. I am so sorry. Well, now I kind of practically know what I'm doing with this story, and I know where I'm going, so bear with me please! Updating is probably going to be slow from here on, because I really don't want this getting away from me and then we're all confused and that does not end well. So yeah, review, I don't own, read!- Love, Maya

"You were never that guy. Trust me."

That tiny gesture and those words meant more to Puck than he wanted to imagine. He didn't quite believe it, but he could hear something dark under the assurance, so he didn't question it, not here. Instead he just moved his hand in a small, soothing circle between Hummel's shoulder blades. Hummel didn't comment; his only reaction was a slight relaxing of his muscles under Puck's hand.

Aretha looked disapprovingly from boy to boy. "But why, all of a sudden?"

Hummel turned his head to look at Puck, but didn't pull away from his touch. "I don't have an answer," Puck told her truthfully. Under his hand, Hummel neither tensed nor relaxed and his piercing eyes remained placidly trained on Puck's face. "All I know is I like him better when he's not scared, and I wanna make that happen."

There was a beat of silence, and wordlessly, Hummel reached over and calmly patted Puck's knee, staring at Mercedes the whole time. She saw the motion, not that Hummel was sneaky about it or anything, and her eyes went almost impossibly wide. He gave her a serene smile. "I'm giving him a shot," he said softly, and it took everything Puck had not to beam. Badasses don't beam.

Aretha shot Puck another glare. "Does he deserve it?" she asked harshly.

Puck almost shrank from her glare, but Hummel squeezed his knee before releasing it and saying, "Few ever do. It was my decision, and it's been made. He'll be sticking around until he proves he doesn't deserve to." Puck stared at him. There was no uncertainty in his blue-for-now eyes, and his tone and gaze clearly and wordlessly stated that his decree would be followed to the letter. This was the Kurt Hummel that Puck had respect for, the one he was afraid of losing to all of the harassment from bigots like Karofsky. Puck set his jaw.

Mercedes shook her head and reached across the table to lay her hand over Hummel's. "You're opening yourself up to be hurt," she said quietly.

He nodded. "Yes, sometimes you have to."

Puck scowled indignantly and turned toward Hummel. "I'm not going to—"

"I know," Hummel cut him off gently. "But I've given you the opportunity to." Puck had no answer to that.

When Kurt walked into Glee that afternoon, the girls had surrounded Puck. The strange thing about this was Puck's expression at being surrounded by some of the most beautiful girls in the school. It was the oddest cringe, riddled with desperation, exasperation, and thinly-veiled fear. When Puck's eyes alighted on Kurt in the doorway, the fear spiked, those eyes going wide with warning. The girls instantly recognized that they had lost his attention and followed his gaze to Kurt, who felt the urge to take a step back. As one, they turned away from their current target and came flying at Kurt, Quinn reaching him first. She seized him by the bicep and demanded, "What are you doing with Puck?"

"Yeah." Tina grabbed his other arm. "Puck's bad news, plus you hate each other."

Rachel stepped forward, clearing her throat and brushing nonexistent lint from the front of her obscenely short skirt. "Kurt, while I applaud your efforts to reach out to the less-cultured, as team captain I simply cannot have you endangering life and limb by keeping company with ruffians, thereby damaging our chances at Sectionals. I shall have to ask you to break up with Noah."

Kurt blinked down at her, quite bewildered, and she stared back seriously. He looked at Puck, who shrugged helplessly. He returned his attention to Rachel. "… I'm not sure I can even begin to respond to any of that, so let me start here: 'break up with Noah,' you say?"

"You and Noah are in love," she told him decisively. "It's the only explanation for your newfound camaraderie. However, it is simply not safe." She clasped his hand, understanding pity in her eyes, as he gazed back dumbly and waited for Ashton Kutcher to leap out of somewhere. "You must understand, Kurt, everything he touches burns. He'll only hurt you, just like—"

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there." Kurt didn't raise his voice, but he didn't have to. "Firstly, you don't know the future, nor do you know Noah, nor do you know the whole story. Secondly, who is dating who is not your business, and you have no leg whatsoever to stand on regarding relationships. Thirdly, I am not dating Noah Puckerman!"

"Not to mention," Puck drawled, rising from his seat and draping an arm over Kurt's shoulders, "if we were dating, it really wouldn't be your business." When Kurt and Rachel both blinked up at him (in unison. Weird.), he elaborated, "I mean, in that case, I'd be closeted, and you, Miss Berry, just called me out on my relationship with a guy in a public place. You would've outed me." He gave her a reproachful look. "How cruel of you. I'd expect better of someone with two gay dads."

While Rachel flushed and stammered apologies and excuses, Kurt dug his nails into his palms and thought of his plans for the evening, and which worlds would rock in their wake.