Chapter Fourteen: Santana and Cake
The next Friday found Noah swiftly growing exasperated with a certain Latina. No sooner had Puck entered the building of McKinley High than Santana had grabbed him and pulled him into an empty classroom.
"Hey, Puck." She greeted, sliding back onto the desk seductively and surreptitiously lifting her cheerleading skirt. "I'm dying for a ride on the Puckerman Express." She licked her lips and hiked her skirt higher, flashing her panties.
Noah sighed. He looked at Santana then down at his pants then up again. He was mildly disappointed that he couldn't – and most importantly wouldn't – indulge himself with the Latina. He was, however, more than a little horrified to discovered that his cock was displaying no interest what-so-ever in his long-standing bed partner – the woman who knew all of his turn ons, his turn offs, his kinks and his favourite positions. Puck crossed his arms.
"Seriously, Santana. I'm not interested."
"What?" Her leg's dropped a little, as did her smirk and Noah rubbed the back of his neck.
"I have a lot of stuff going on right now, and this thing," he pointed to himself and then to her, "it's toxic. I can't do this anymore, Santana."
"Ha!" She cackled for a second, "What's the matter, Puckerman? Can't get it up or get another girl pregnant?" Noah's eyes widened as she said pregnant and when she mimicked his momentarily he knew that he was in trouble. "Holy shit! Really? Who is she?"
Noah sat down at the desk and held his head in his hands, sighing heavily. "I can't tell you, babe. And this time, it's got nothing to do with their reputation this time." Hesitantly, Santana ran a tender hand over his head. "We're keeping it."
"Who is she?" She asked, softly this time, her hands gently massaging his scalp as she swivelled fully on the desk to face him.
"I can't tell you."
She gave a frustrated sound and rubbed his head a little roughly. "Alright then! How long have you been banging her behind my back?"
"What we do doesn't involve cheating, Santana, you know that. And I think I've been seeing them 'officially' for about three months? I can't be certain though." He lifted his head to look at her. "I can't afford to lose this chance, Santana, you have to understand that."
The cheerleader was quiet for a long time, contemplating his words. When she spoke again her voice was soft and wistful. "I would never ask you to give it up, Noah." She only ever used his fist name when they were being open with each other. "If... If Britt ever gives me another chance, I wouldn't think twice about giving you the boot." Noah smiled. "But! I think I should have a right to know just who you've knocked up this time, though perhaps you and she should tell Q first. You know, as she's carried your spawn already." She suddenly grinned evilly, "Perhaps you should tell you butt-boy, too, Puckerman."
Noah growled and jerked away from her completely, "Kurt isn't a 'butt-boy', Santana! He's... I care about him, alright?"
For a moment the Cheerio was taken aback, "You care about him? Puck, you bullied him for years, what's changed? He's a fag."
Noah winced at the slur, "What are you then?" Santana's expression changed from aggression to confusion. "I mean, you sleep with basically any guy that has a pulse but you're in love with Brittany and you treat her like shit. So what are you?" Noah's tone turned vicious. "You're a cold bitch, Santana. You know it and I know it. Why should you care about my life anyway? We sleep together, but it doesn't mean anything."
Santana was quiet for a while, and Noah stood to leave. When she finally spoke, her tone was almost inaudible. "I know that what we do means nothing and I know I'm a bitch, but that doesn't mean that I don't care about you or any of the other saddo loser's in the gleeky family of ours, Puckerman." And with that she stalked out of the room to terrorise a few first years.
Sighing heavily and running a hand through his strip of hair, Noah thought silently about the confrontation with Santana. She's right about telling Quinn, but will Kurt agree...?
After a stressful day at school – more stressful than before due to his delicate condition – as soon as Kurt entered the empty house (Carole and Burt were at work and Finn had mentioned something about seeing either Quinn or Rachel) he pulled his mother's apron from the hook, placed his bag on the kitchen stool and began to pull various ingredients and utensils from the cupboards. Humming under his breath he navigated around the room with ease born of time spent in that environment.
He took a moment to debate what to make, thinking about his cravings as well as what Burt could eat and what Carole would like; there was no point in wondering about whether Finn would like whatever he decided on, that boy was a stomach-on-legs. Chocolate sponge cake...
He grabbed the cocoa, and the measuring scales. Just as he was about to mix together the caster sugar and the margarine, there was a tap at the door, followed by the ringing of the doorbell. Kurt knew who it was and he grumbled on his way to the door about 'poor timing'.
He slid the bolt across and headed back to the kitchen, shouting over his shoulder that the door was open. Sure enough, Noah Puckerman stepped over the threshold and meandered into the kitchen.
"Hey, Kurt." He greeted, curiously regarding the countertenor and what he was doing.
"Hello, Puck." He noted the look on Noah's face and tried not to chuckle, "I'm baking a cake... Chocolate cake."
"Oh. Why?"
"I had a rough day." Kurt said quickly, adding egg and beating it in brutally, "What did you want?"
"I wanted to talk to you about something... Wait," he held up a strong hand, putting his backpack down and sitting on one of the stools across from where Kurt was working, "what do you mean, 'a rough day'? Is someone giving you trouble?" Noah's brows dropped dangerously and his eyes took on a malicious glint.
"Yes. No... Well." Kurt moved onto sieving the flour, cocoa and baking powder, "It's hard to explain."
"Try." Noah practically growled and Kurt rolled his eyes.
"Stop treating me like I'm gonna break, Noah. How many times do I have to tell you?" Puck had the sense to lower his head in submission. "It's nothing that I'm not used to, there have been less incidents to speak of since I found out about the baby, not for lack of trying on the part of the Jocks, but it's so stressful trying to avoid locker-shoves and slushies; not to mention the dumpster tossing! I was late to first period today because I didn't want to risk it." As Kurt was talking, he got more ferocious in his mixing. He sighed as he put the spatula down and retrieved a baking tin, double checking the oven setting before he placed his creation in its depths.
"You know, Kurt... It would be easier for me to, I don't know, protect you, if you'd be more open to telling people about this." Kurt glared at him and Noah held his hands up in surrender, "I know, I know... You're still thinking about it. But that's kinda why I'm here." Noah smiled sheepishly as Kurt raised his eyebrows, "I... I think we should tell Quinn. I mean... After all, she had Beth, she's already been through what you're going through, maybe she could give you some pointers? She would understand the policy of not telling anyone." He added quickly just as Kurt opened his mouth to protest, "I... I feel that she has the right to know, you know?"
Kurt went quiet, speculating Puck's words and assessing them carefully. "Why? Why does she need to know? I'm not dismissing it completely Noah, but I want to know why you think that she should know about my business."
"She's the mother of Beth. Even though she decided to give her up for adoption, she loved – loves – her. I think that she should know that I'm expecting another baby. I'm not saying that she should be involved, but I kinda fell like I need her support on this... Or something..." Noah fell silent, before he continued gently, "You have Aretha, the Hobbit and Finnessa to turn to as friends and, though Finn is or was my best friend, first the thing with Quinn and now the thing with you means that he won't speak to me, unless it's football or Glee related. I just... I feel like I need a friend as well."
As Noah was speaking, Kurt's gaze became soft. Although Noah wasn't articulating it very well (in fact Kurt felt a little insulted that he was comparing the relationship between him and Quinn and him and the countertenor as being practically the same thing) he knew what he was trying to say.
"Alright, Noah. We'll talk to Quinn." Kurt said, reaching across to touch Puck's cheek, before thinking better of it and retracting his hand, "But! If this all goes to pot, I will blame you."
Noah smiled gently, before a frown crossed his features, "Don't do that."
"What?"
"Go to touch me and then not." Noah took Kurt's slender hand in his own and put it up to his cheek, trapping Kurt's hand there and staring at the countertenor, "I don't mind it. After everything we've done, I find it kinda soothing."
Kurt allowed himself to think about that for a moment, his eyes wide and his thumb subconsciously caressing the skin of Noah's face. The way that the footballer was looking at him was deceptively warm and Kurt felt his heart jump, beginning a giddy dance. He felt as though the air was being knocked out of him as Noah slowly leaned across the counter to press their lips together before leaving a hairs-breadth between them, allowing Kurt to make the choice.
After a second's hesitation, Kurt brought their mouths together, whining a little when Noah swiftly deepened the kiss. I had forgotten how good this was. Kurt wrapped his hands around Puck's neck to pull him as close as possible, kitchen counter permitting. Noah moaned and softly held the countertenor's face in the cradle of his palms.
It could have lasted for seconds, or minutes, or days but the two boys were brought back to Earth quickly from their cosmic kiss as a throat was cleared and Kurt jumped away from Noah as though he had been burned.
Both boys turned their attention to the other person in the room and Puck felt his face drain of blood, leaving him dizzy. There, at the entrance of the kitchen, was none other than Burt Hummel.
"Daddy!" Kurt gasped, hands going to straighten his shirt and hair. "This... Uhm... This isn't what it looks like?" Noah whipped his head to Kurt at hearing that, pain rising in his chest and he rubbed it absently.
Burt noticed Puck's gesture, but kept his eyes fixed on his son, "Kurt. What is going on?"
The timer for the cake went off. If only I could be saved by the bell, Noah thought as he warily regarded the stand-off between father and son, I wonder if the rumour about Burt's shotgun is true?
Sorry for the late update guys! After Christmas I was hit by a crippling bout of Writer's Block. I'm not sure what happened to this chapter, I'm not really following a plan so you may have to bear with me. If you find any mistakes in the story line, PM me and I'll try to sort it out.
I should point out that there's a reason Noah still hasn't started working anywhere in this chapter, but that'll be revealed soon. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I shall hopefully update again soon!
For those who are interested I'm also trying to write a sequel for What A Difference A Day Makes, so hopefully that should be flying around FanFiction soon!