He gives Rachel the iciest look he can manage given that his heart’s still racing and his mouth his tingling. He straightens his jacket and brushes at the dust clinging to his clothing. Kurt shoves Puck off him and gets to his feet as gracefully as he can. “Seriously,” she says, “It isn’t the 1990s, meterosexuality is more than a trend, Puck, it’s a social movement. Rachel’s standing above them with a startled and unimpressed expression on her face. At least Kurt’s managed to get his mouth back to himself. Puck’s elbow lands in Kurt’s gut, taking what little breath he had left away. He gropes behind himself and gets a hand around the door knob and twists, and they go tumbling out in a tangle of limbs. But Puck keeps doing that thing with his hips, and Kurt can’t think.įrom the hallway Kurt hears footsteps approaching-Rachel’s dreadful k-mart brand penny loafers. The rest of the football team is probably waiting out in the hall to rough him up and carry him off to the dumpster. The thing is, Kurt doesn’t really have a chance to appreciate whether or not Puck is a good kisser, because he just knows this is going to end in tragedy. For a long moment, Kurt can only stand in shocked silence, unable to move away. Kurt opens his mouth to gasp a protest, but the words freeze on his tongue when Puck ducks his head and kisses him. Puck smirks and then he rolls his hips against Kurt’s. Kurt lets his gaze trace Puck’s features, lingering on his eyebrows. “Yeah, but if she sees you, she might check for me.” He tugs on his arm and Puck tugs back, twists so Kurt is pressed against the door. “I’ll take my chances with her,” Kurt says. Puck grabs his arm, all the humour gone from his face. He stands up, and in the tight quarters he’s pressed way too close to Puck for comfort. “Oh my god,” Kurt says, and absolutely refuses to blush. He looks honestly curious, but his lip is curled just slightly in amusement. “Why would I want to do that?” Puck asks. “You can give it up, okay?” Kurt says coolly. Luckily, Kurt isn’t as gullible as he was in the 7th grade. It wouldn’t be the first time some popular asshole thought it’d be a good joke to flirt with him and get his hopes up. He’s been saying shit like that for weeks now, and Kurt has manfully been ignoring it. “I’m just fine doing it on my own,” he says. Kurt has to repress a shudder at the thought of Rachel Berry coming anywhere near his face with any beauty implement, and he’s frankly offended that Puck thinks he could. Then he jerks his chin at Kurt and adds, “I would have thought that shit would be right up your alley.” “These babies are naturally perfect,” he says. Puck sucks his pinkie and thumb and slicks them along his brows. “Rachel still out there with the tweezers?” Kurt asks, voice bland. He gives Kurt a once over and rolls his eyes at the door pointedly. Puck ducks inside and gently closes the door after him. Kurt’s sitting on an overturned bucket, filing his nails, when the door swings inward, almost hitting him in the face. It’s the place is altogether sort of difficult to navigate. In one corner there’s a pile of old instruments and a bunch of music stands scattered around, and must scent probably coming from the truly ancient band uniforms draped all over the place. There’s a forgotten storage cupboard tucked back behind the stage, off a little used hallway that once led to a side entrance before the school started cracking down on security. Pretty much it.ĪN: OMG, I hate this show, wtaf am I doing? I blame the stupid internets for making Puck/Kurt such a delicious pairing. Moku_youbiTitle: Do You Have a Mirror in Those Pants?
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