A Warning! Not all updates will be this fast, this chapter was in the works well before the Prologue.

Let me know what you think…

Chapter One: Epiphany

Noah groaned as his conscious mind returned, nausea sweeping over him as a headache began to throb through his skull. Slowly he sat himself up, frowning when the room spun around him before righting itself. He glanced at the glowing red numbers of an alarm clock. 5.14 am.

He grinned a little as he realised how satisfied his body felt before grimacing when the need to vomit hit full force. He clambered out of the bed, mindless of the warm body beside him, and made for what he assumed was an en suite bathroom. He wasn't disappointed and, dropping to his knees, paid homage to the porcelain throne.

As he up-chucked, his throat and eyes burning, he allowed his mind to wander. It had been six months and three days since Noah Puckerman's little girl had been born; six months and three days since Mrs Corcoran had taken Beth home to give her a good life; and six months and three days since Noah's heart had been damaged beyond repair. But ever since that heartbreaking moment, Puck had found his libido dwindling, with the simple explanation that he didn't want to have to go through it again. Until he, and whoever he was with, were ready to bring up a kid, he didn't want to risk getting a girl pregnant.

Fucking good move there, Puckerman, he thought as he wiped his face and brushed his teeth as he flushed the toilet, thinking back to the person still currently comatose. He made his way to the door and stared at the person on the bed. From the door frame, his eyes travelled up the duvet swaddled body from tips of their toes. Judging from the leg hanging just out of the blanket, this person had killer legs – dancers legs, maybe a Cheerio – there was a gentle dip in the mound from hip to midsection but as Noah's eyes took in the face of the person in the bed, his heart stopped dead.

The person, with which Puck had shared a bed and undoubtedly more, was none other than McKinley's own, "Hummel?" Noah screeched.

Blue-green eyes opened, slightly upturned scrunching as his head throbbed just as harshly as Puck's had.

"Good morning, Puckerman." Kurt said sarcastically as he sat and stretched and Noah couldn't stop his eyes wandering over the lithe body exposed to him.

"What… I mean… you know…" Puck muttered incoherently, his stance at the door changing to defensive.

"It's okay, Puck, I won't tell anyone." Kurt replied, getting out of the bed, and searching for his Calvin Klein boxers and throwing Puck's at him, "After a few weeks at Dalton – totally full of fags, F.Y.I – you didn't seriously expect me to return completely inexperienced did you?" The stress on the homophobic slur wasn't lost on Puck. "Nothing out of the ordinary happened. You were pretty much paralytic, after all, but when you told me to blow you, who was I to refuse badass Puckzilla?"

"So we didn't…?" Puck spluttered.

"Hell no!" Hummel chuckled, pulling on a pair of sinfully tight skinny jeans after a pair of bright pink socks, "I might not be inexperienced, but I'm still a virgin, and I'd much rather have my metaphorical cherry popped by someone who actually cares about me." Kurt strutted past him and into the bathroom to freshen up. "I blew you and then jerked myself off. No biggy."

Noah wasn't sure whether to be relieved or insulted. He felt a certain amount of relief due to the fact he hadn't actually had sex with Kurt, but he was insulted because Kurt didn't deem him worthy enough to give him the gift of his virginity. He turned to regard the smaller boy as he went about his ablutions.

As he cast his gaze over the countertenors back, he felt his dick twitch, a few memories coming to his conscious from the previous night's drunken escapade. The little dip in the small of Kurt's back did strange things to Noah, thoughts he'd have never dreamed of before involving Kurt in all sorts of flexible positions. The narrow shoulder blades made Noah think of, if his hand was gently pressing between them, how sexy the contrast in their skin tones would look and the slender neck made Puck's lips and teeth actually ache with the desire to mark Kurt's pale flesh.

He allowed his eyes to travel upwards to Kurt's heart shaped face attached to that swan-like neck. Even Puck knew, even before this little lapse in judgement, how pretty Kurt was – and pretty was the right word, he wasn't sexy like Santana or even cute like Quinn (he was far too Ice-Queen for that) but he was pretty; though Puck had to admit, Kurt had the potential to be more than any girl could. Something about the porcelain skin with a smattering of freckles across his gently up-turned nose and the meticulously styled hair. His plump, rosy lips which, if the tingling of his own lips was anything to go by, Puck had kissed a few times the night before. Then there were his eyes. Puck couldn't deny that he was just as entranced by Kurt's eyes – as were everyone else. The eyes are the windows to the soul; never had a statement been truer than with Kurt. The countertenor's blue eyes had the incredible capacity to change colour depending entirely on his mood. When he was pissed, they seemed grey as steel; when irritated, they flashed a darker shade of blue; when happy they were a powder blue and when he was upset they turned a watery green.

Overall, Kurt was indeed rather attractive – with or without the Y chromosome – and Puck couldn't really blame himself for jumping the other boy in his inebriated state.

After he was finished, Kurt spun to face Noah, resting his slim fingers against the sink. "Thanks for last night, Puck. Took the edge off." He murmured before moving back into the bedroom. He pulled on the rest of his clothes. "I knew that coming to one of Santana's infamous parties would get me some, though I certainly didn't expect Straight Guy Von Badass to come begging for a blow-job."

After grabbing his bag, Kurt sauntered to the bedroom door, his amazing ass wiggling enticingly. He opened the door and turned one last time. "Thanks again, Puck. Call if you need a hand… or a mouth in future." And with a parting wink and a wave, Kurt was gone.

Puck crawled back to the bed, wrapping himself in the blankets and begrudgingly accepting the Kurt even smelled wonderful.

I'm so fucked… He thought, because oddly, the thought of ploughing Kurt's bubble-butt into the mattress didn't bother him as much as he suspected it should. Well, at least he wouldn't get pregnant.

And right then, Puck had a hangover induced epiphany.