You Asked For It
Chapter 1: I Dare You
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
It was supposed to be a joke. Just a stupid party game. But somewhere between the dares and the drinks, the laughter turned into something darker.
Noah Puckerman sat frozen, arms around a shaking Kurt Hummel-Anderson—naked, humiliated, and visibly aroused—as Blaine shouted "Time!" like it was just a fun challenge on Glee: After Dark. The others burst out laughing. Santana nearly fell off the couch. Brittany giggled from the floor. Even Quinn tried to hide a smirk behind her wine glass.
But not Noah.
He didn't laugh. He didn't move. He didn't even blink.
Kurt's whole body turned a furious shade of red, his eyes locked on the carpet as he ripped away from Noah and bolted down the hallway, slamming the guest bedroom door shut behind him.
Noah stood up slowly. Then, without warning, he punched Blaine so hard the sickening crack of bone echoed through the room. Blaine stumbled back, nose gushing blood, looking stunned and pathetic on the floor.
Noah's voice roared over the stunned silence.
"What the hell is wrong with you people?!" His chest was heaving, his hands clenched. "All night, you've been daring Kurt to kiss me, grind on me, blow me, sit in my damn lap while naked like it's some goddamn porno parody. And Blaine—you were okay with that?! If Santana hadn't been flashing me while Kurt was—Jesus Christ!"
His voice broke. Everyone stared.
"I can't believe I went along with this," he growled. "I can't believe you let this happen, Blaine. What the hell kind of husband are you?"
Noah didn't wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and stormed out the front door, heart pounding in his ears. He didn't even realize Kurt had followed until he reached his truck—and found Kurt already sitting in the passenger seat, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, a duffle bag at his feet.
"I told you not to look at me like that," Kurt said quietly, his gaze locked on the windshield. "Just drive, Puck. Take me to my dad's. I can't stay here."
Noah slid behind the wheel, still seething, still shaken. "Kurt…"
"Don't," Kurt whispered. "Finn wasn't my first straight boy crush. And Quinn told them about what happened to you. About…about the rape." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry."
Noah swallowed hard. His hands clenched the steering wheel. He didn't speak for a long time.
Thirty minutes later, they were somewhere between Lima and the state line when he finally said, "I'm sorry about Tracy, Kurt. I should've shut it down after the first dare. When you kissed me, I thought... I didn't think they'd take it further."
Kurt let out a shaky laugh, bitter and empty. "I thought Blaine would stop it. Or Santana. I never thought he'd look me in the eye and tell me to strip... while she stood there laughing." His fingers trembled. "You didn't get hard. That helped. So…thanks, I guess."
When Kurt's phone rang, Noah grabbed it before he could. Blaine.
Noah answered it with a snarl.
"What the hell do you want?"
He listened, jaw tightening, then snapped, "You don't get to play the victim now, Blaine! I'm taking him to Washington. Yeah, you heard me. You asked for this, so don't you dare give me that innocent bullshit. I'm still straight. But maybe I'm also the only one in that room who gives a damn about Kurt! And if you think we won't tell Mr. Hummel about what went down—guess again."
He hung up and tossed the phone into Kurt's lap.
Quinn called next.
Noah didn't hesitate. "What the hell do you want, Quinn?"
Her voice poured through the speaker, all shaky guilt and whispered regret.
"You told them," he said, barely holding back the fury in his throat. "You told them I was raped, and then you all used it to humiliate *both* of us. I thought you were better than this."
He ended the call.
When Blaine tried again, this time Kurt answered. His voice was shaking but sharp as glass.
I want a divorce, Blaine." Silence. "No, I don't love Puck. And he doesn't love me. He loved Tracy. She was the only little girl he ever bonded with. I know you've always hated that. But you did this. We're done. I mean it."
He hung up.
Kurt stared out the window again, then finally hit Burt's name and put the phone on speaker. It rang once.
"I just got off the phone with Blaine," Burt said, voice low and tired. "Tell Puck to take you to the base. Rachel's already at the house packing the rest of your things. She lit into them. Especially Santana."
"You're on speaker, Mr. H," Noah said. "And just so you know, my buddy Brad? He's got a bit of a crush on your son. Might be a Hudson by the end of the month."
"Oh Jesus," Burt sighed. "You better have that twenty ready, Puck."
Noah smirked. "Already counting it."
Kurt blinked at him. "Did you seriously tell him about my high school crush on Finn?"
"I told him everything," Noah said. "Swipe right and see what you're working with."
Kurt hesitated, then took Noah's phone and swiped. A shirtless, smirking soldier with Taylor Lautner's muscles and blond surfer-boy hair filled the screen.
Kurt's eyes widened. "Did he seriously send you this?"
"Wait until the next one," Noah grinned.
Kurt swiped again. His breath hitched. "Oh my God."
"I might've sent him one of you, too. Just the side view. You looked good. I blurred your face," Noah said, shrugging. "You okay with that?"
Kurt paused. "It's fine." He handed the phone back. "Give him my number. And send Blaine the other pic. Let him know we're over, and I'm moving on."
They rode in silence for a bit before Kurt pulled out an old football jersey and started changing.
"You better not rebound screw Brad while your parents are still around," Noah muttered.
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Relax, Puck. I'm not that reckless. I just needed something that doesn't smell like Blaine."
Noah reached over and ruffled his hair gently. "You'll be okay, Kurt."
GLEE
When they reached the base, Brad was waiting with Burt and Carole. He grinned when he saw Kurt. Later, as they sat side-by-side on the couch, Brad asked, "So... how do you and Puck know each other? He doesn't talk much."
Kurt smiled faintly. "He used to bully me. Back in high school. But now? He's probably the only person I trust."
They held hands without thinking about it.
Hours later, after quiet conversation and unexpected laughter, they kissed.
Somewhere across the house, Noah smirked as he passed Burt a twenty. "Told you."
GLEE
Puck was halfway through a stale protein bar and an early morning jog around the base housing unit when his phone buzzed. He figured it might be Kurt or Brad—both were early risers like him. But the name on the screen made him stop cold.
Quinn.
He stared for a second. Then answered.
"Quinn."
"Puck," she breathed. "You answered."
Her voice—shaky, soft—was like a punch to the chest. She hadn't sounded like that since… since Beth.
"You okay?" he asked, keeping his voice guarded.
"I'm not," she said honestly. "I told them about what happened to you because I thought it would shut the dares down. I didn't think they'd twist it like that. Or hurt Kurt. Or drag *you* into it again."
"Yeah, well. Welcome back to high school politics," he muttered.
"I'm sorry," Quinn said, voice thick. "I never meant to hurt you."
Puck kicked a stray pebble with his boot. "You're not calling just to say sorry."
"No," she admitted. "I called because I miss you. Because I think—I think I never stopped loving you."
He stood still, the silence between them louder than the wind blowing across the gravel.
"I know I messed up. But if there's any chance at all… I want to try again. Not because of Beth. Not out of guilt. Just us. You and me."
Puck's jaw clenched. For years, he'd built walls high and wide, especially when it came to Quinn. But at this moment… they didn't feel so necessary.
"Alright," he said softly. "We'll talk."
Back in the kitchen, Kurt sat at the table, eyes locked on his phone screen. Brad moved around behind him, humming as he cooked. The smell of cinnamon and eggs filled the room, but Kurt looked like he'd lost his appetite.
Puck leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "He still calling?"
Kurt didn't look up. He just nodded.
*Blaine (8:06 AM):
Please, Kurt. One call. Just talk to me.
Blaine (8:07 AM):
I know I messed up. I thought it was harmless.
I didn't know it would cost us *everything.
Blaine (8:08 AM):
You're still my husband, aren't you?
Kurt locked his phone and put it face down on the table. He didn't speak for a long moment.
"You want me to handle it?" Puck asked quietly.
Kurt gave a sad little laugh. "You mean threaten to rearrange his face?"
"I was thinking more like a polite 'screw off,' but sure, that too."
Kurt finally looked up, tired eyes meeting his. "He doesn't get to keep me now that I'm finally choosing me."
Puck nodded. Then typed out a message.
Puck (8:12 AM):
Don't call again. He's not yours anymore.
He's not alone, either.
That evening, the four of them—Kurt, Brad, Puck, and Quinn—sat on a bench outside the rec building. The sky was bleeding orange and violet across the horizon, and a hint of spring clung to the air.
Quinn sat close beside Puck, their shoulders touching.
"So… you two are…" she asked, glancing from Kurt to Brad.
"Taking it slow," Kurt said, smiling slightly as Brad reached for his hand. "But yes. I've moved on."
Brad grinned. "Not that I'm in a rush, but I'm not letting this one go."
Quinn laughed, and for a second, Puck caught a glimpse of the girl he once loved in high school—the one before secrets and heartbreak.
"I'm glad," she told Kurt honestly. "You deserve someone who doesn't take you for granted."
"And you," Kurt said pointedly, "deserve to be honest with Beth."
Quinn looked down at her hands. "She doesn't even remember me. She thinks Shelby is her mom."
"Because Shelby *was* her mom," Puck said quietly. "She was there. We weren't."
Quinn's eyes brimmed with regret. "I want to change that."
Puck took her hand. "Then we do it right this time. Together."
Later, when the fire pit crackled, and most of the base had gone quiet, Kurt stared at the stars. Brad leaned into his side, warm and steady.
Puck tossed another log on the fire and sighed. "You ever think about how weird it is? We were all a mess in high school. And now look at us."
Kurt smirked. "Still a mess. Just… older."
They all laughed.
Quinn curled into Puck's side. "Not too late for new beginnings."
Kurt nodded. "Or second chances."
And as the fire glowed brighter, even with scars and cracks between them, something real—something healing—began to take root again.
GLEE
Tracy had been quiet since yesterday, the way only a child who was watching everything and saying nothing could be. She was curled up on the living room rug in her pajamas, legs tangled in a fleece blanket, coloring in the corner of her *Frozen* book while Carole read nearby and Burt clicked through the morning news.
It had been two nights since she last saw Puck and Kurt. She missed them, but she was trying to be brave—like her daddy always told her. And like Daddy Puck said: "Strong girls don't have to yell. They just show up."
The front door opened, and Tracy lifted her head.
Kurt stepped inside, a fresh breeze trailing in behind him. He was holding hands with someone Tracy didn't know. A man. Tall, dark-haired, with kind eyes and a coffee in each hand.
"Hi, sweetheart," Kurt said gently, kneeling to her level. "I want you to meet someone very special."
Tracy blinked, studying the man.
"This is Brad," Kurt said. "He's a good friend of mine. He plays piano well, and he's very funny. And… he makes me smile."
Brad crouched beside Kurt and offered a small wave. "Hey there. I've heard a lot about you."
Tracy looked at Kurt. "He's your boyfriend?"
Kurt laughed softly. "We're… getting to know each other."
"Okay," Tracy said after a pause. "Can I still love you if you love someone else?"
Kurt's eyes shimmered. "You always can. And I will *always* love you, no matter what."
She nodded solemnly. "Okay. I can like him then."
Brad's face lit up, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief.
Carole gave Burt a little smile from the kitchen.
"Want to see the songs I made up?" Tracy asked, holding up her coloring book.
Brad's grin widened. "Absolutely. But only if you promise to teach me the words."
Tracy giggled, already flipping to the pink-and-purple page she'd named Princess Puck Saves the Day.
Later that afternoon, while Kurt helped Carole prep lunch and Brad stepped out to call his mom, Tracy sat on the couch, cradling her Dad's phone like it was made of gold. Kurt had let her play music on it and gave her the rule that she couldn't press anything that blinked.
But when it rang—when it blinked and *buzzed*—she didn't hesitate.
She pressed the green circle and lifted it to her ear.
"Hi," she said.
There was a pause on the line.
"…Tracy?"
"Yep. Who is this?" she asked, flipping her braids behind her shoulder.
"It's me," Blaine said, his voice tight and trembling. "It's… Daddy."
Tracy didn't smile.
"No, you're not," she said firmly.
Blaine's breath caught. "Sweetheart, I know you're confused, but—"
"I'm not confused," she interrupted, hugging her stuffed frog tighter. "You yelled. You scared me. You hurt Daddy Kurt. And now Uncle Nono says you're not safe no more."
"I never meant to hurt you—"
"You're like Uncle Nono's dad," she said calmly, almost too calmly. "You didn't hit, but you still left bruises in people's hearts."
The silence on the other end was deafening.
"My new dad is Brad. He's nice. He listens. He made me pancakes shaped like cats."
"Tracy, please," Blaine whispered. "Can you just put Kurt on? Just for a second?"
"No. He's cooking. And even if he wasn't, he don't want to talk to you. He don't need you anymore."
"Sweetheart—"
Tracy lowered the phone and tapped the red button, ending the call.
Then she got off the couch, walked straight into the kitchen, and tugged at Kurt's sleeve.
"I told the yelling man not to call anymore."
Kurt turned, blinking. "What?"
"Your phone buzzed. It was Blaine. I told him he's like Puck's bad daddy. And that I picked Brad instead."
Kurt stared at her, stunned speechless. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"You're pretty brave," he whispered.
"I'm just tired of people thinking they can come back after they break stuff," Tracy said, folding her arms like Burt.
Kurt knelt and hugged her tightly. "So am I."
GLEE
Later that evening, the warmth of the kitchen faded as Blaine stepped up to Kurt's front door. His heart was heavy, the thoughts racing in his mind overwhelming him. He had tried to reach out to Tracy, to re-establish some kind of connection, but after her words, he knew he had a long way to go. Tracy had been blunt, and she had been honest.
Now, standing on the threshold, he wasn't sure what he was hoping for—closure, maybe, or just an opportunity to talk to Kurt again. The door opened before he could even raise his hand to knock.
Brad stood there, his stance protective, an unspoken challenge in his eyes.
"Hey," Blaine muttered, shuffling on his feet.
Brad didn't return the greeting immediately. He didn't need to. There was something about the air between them—something tense, something thick with the weight of everything that had happened.
"You need to go," Brad said, his voice steady but firm.
Blaine blinked, caught off guard. "I—what?"
"I don't know if you've noticed," Brad continued, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed, "but you're no longer welcome here in the way you think you are. You've hurt people. Especially Kurt. And Tracy." He paused. "You're not going to fix it by showing up here, trying to play the hero."
"I'm just trying to—"
"Move on," Brad interrupted, his voice growing louder. "You need to leave them alone. Kurt doesn't need your constant reminders of what he's been through with you. He's trying to heal. And Tracy… she's been through more than she's ever said."
Blaine stepped forward, his chest tight. "I didn't mean to hurt her. Or Kurt."
"I know you didn't," Brad said, his tone softening slightly but not losing the edge of finality. "But the truth is, people move on. They heal. They get stronger, even when they don't think they can."
Blaine swallowed. "I still love Kurt. And Tracy, she's... she's my daughter."
Brad's eyes narrowed. "No. She's Kurt's daughter. *Now.* You lost your place in their lives the moment you chose to break them apart. You may have been her father once, but she's found her way in this new family."
Just as Blaine was about to respond, a voice from behind him spoke.
"You can't undo what you've done, Blaine," Sarah's voice cut through the quiet evening. She stepped past him, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her expression set with a blend of frustration and disappointment.
Blaine turned. "Sarah, I—I didn't mean to—"
"Do you even understand what you've caused?" Sarah interrupted, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of sharpness. "You think showing up here is going to fix everything? Kurt's not just moving on from you, Blaine. He's surviving. *We're* surviving. Tracy, too—she blames you. She sees the pain you caused Kurt, and she's not wrong to feel that way."
Blaine took a step back, the weight of her words hitting harder than he expected.
"You don't get to fix things just because you're sorry," Sarah continued. "Kurt's not the only one hurting here. Tracy's been through a lot, and she won't forget how you tore this family apart. She *feels* what you did to her, to her dad. You can't just walk in here and expect everything to go back to normal."
Blaine's chest tightened. "I didn't want to hurt Tracy," he said, his voice cracking. "I didn't want to lose Kurt. I just... I thought maybe we could start over."
Sarah shook her head. "No. It doesn't work like that. You don't get to break their hearts and expect them to pick up the pieces when you're ready. It's too late for that." She paused, then added softly, "And it's too late for you, too."
Brad stepped forward, standing next to Sarah. "You need to let them breathe. You need to let them heal. It's done, Blaine. And it's time you accepted that."
Blaine swallowed hard. "I still love Kurt. And Tracy, she's my daughter." The words felt empty as soon as he said them.
Brad's eyes hardened. "Maybe, once. But *now, Kurt's moved on. Tracy's found a new place in her life. And you're not a part of that anymore. You need to respect that."
Blaine flinched, the words stabbing deeper than any of the physical blows he'd endured in his life. The truth was there, raw and undeniable.
With a heavy sigh, he stepped back, turning toward the door.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words barely a breath as he walked away, feeling the distance between him and the people he once thought he could hold on to.
As he left, the door shut behind him, and neither Brad nor Sarah said another word. But both of them knew it was for the best.
Later that evening, as the house settled into an uncomfortable quiet, Kurt sat at the kitchen table, running his fingers through his hair. He'd heard the exchange between Brad, Sarah, and Blaine. He'd heard Blaine's quiet apology as he left. But it wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough.
Tracy came bounding down the stairs, her face lighting up when she saw Kurt.
"Uncle Kurt!" she cried, running to him. "I got something for you!"
Kurt smiled weakly, ruffling her hair. He could see the small glimmer of hope in her eyes, the belief that everything could go back to the way it had been. But it couldn't. Not anymore. Not with Blaine, and not with the hurt that still clung to them all.
Tracy tilted her head. "Do you think... maybe Dad will ever come back?"
Kurt froze. He swallowed hard, but his voice was steady when he spoke. "No, sweetheart. Your dad's not coming back."
Tracy's face fell, and she glanced away, her expression pained. "I thought maybe if he said sorry enough, things would go back to normal."
"I know, baby," Kurt whispered, pulling her into his arms. "But some things just... don't work out like we hope."
And as Kurt held Tracy close, he knew, with a heavy heart, that the family he had now was the one he would hold on to, no matter how much it hurt.
Chapter 2 will be soon.