Archive of Our Own ^beta

1.

Of course Kurt is attractive. Puck wouldn't be with him otherwise. He allowed himself to think that Kurt was hot long before he actually gathered the courage to push him against the tiled wall of the deserted shower room. When he looks at Kurt these days, he sees milky-white skin bruising so easily under Puck's too tight grip; the elegantly curved nose that reminds Puck of statues of Egyptian princesses; chestnut hair gleaming with a reddish shimmer in the afternoon sun when he bends his head just so; silk shawls fluttering playfully in his wake like butterflies tumbling after him in a flock.

It's just that he doesn't think anybody else can see that too. And to be honest, he likes it that way. Likes that other boys won't look at him that way because he's male, that girls won't see him like that because he's gay – not in fucking Lima, Ohio, at least, where people only believe what they can see from between the blinkers of their narrow minds. He likes that he's the only one who gets to see Kurt like he does: debauched and dirty, childish and silly, relaxed and languid. It means that he doesn't have to share him with anyone. It means that Kurt is his, like nobody and nothing else ever was.

***

The Vocal Adrenaline kids are tough competition. They've had more practice, the better teachers, a perfect choreography, and without wanting to belittle New Directions' performance, Puck thinks that, by all means, they should have won.

The Vocal Adrenaline kids are also, it turns out, good sports. Puck is still busy taking off his stage make-up when four of them sneak into the New Directions' dressing room to congratulate.

"You were good", says the girl who kicked ass on stage with her performance of Don't let me get me. She's hot in that tough, boyish way, with bleached hair and small breasts topped with pert nipples that peak through the thin material of her t-shirt.

From the corner of his eye, Puck can see Kurt watching them from the other side of the room and then quickly looking away when he realizes that Puck has caught him staring.

"Thanks", Puck says, leaning against the wall next to the girl so that he can get a better look at her tits. "You are taking this pretty well."

She doesn't seem to mind that Puck is shamelessly checking her out. "You deserved it", she shrugs. "And we have won so often, it was starting to go to our heads. I'm Fiona, by the way", she says, thrusting out a hand for Puck to shake. "So. What are you going to do to celebrate?"

A familiar, high-pitched laugh catches Puck's attention before he can think of an answer. When he looks up, he sees Kurt perched precariously on the back of a chair, hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles. Next to him is the star baritone of Vocal Adrenaline, the tall guy with the dark curls and the smoky voice. He's got one hand curled around Kurt's arm, to keep him from toppling over, and is leaning close to say something that has Kurt laughing even harder.

"Oh", Fiona says, chuckling softly. She has turned around to find out what he's looking at. "I think our Stuart has got a bit of a crush on your little soprano."

"On Kurt?" Puck asks disbelievingly. Something uncomfortable is settling in his chest, and it makes his voice sound a bit more derogatory than intended.

"Well, yeah", Fiona replies, looking surprised. "I mean, he is insanely cute. " She smiles. "Not exactly my type, mind you, because I'm a sucker for a nice tan and muscles, but if you are into the elfin kind of guy ..."

She leans in to whisper in Puck's ear, and Puck can smell her perfume, sweet and flowery, so different from the spicy scent Kurt uses. "To be honest, the main reason we came to see you guys is that Stuart told us he'd die of a broken heart if he didn't at least get the chance to talk to him. Not that I mind", she gives him a quick, flirty smile, "but I missed half of your performance because Stuart was talking my ear off about how he was in love with his voice and his nose and his cute little butt."

Puck swallows, but it doesn't help to get rid of the sour taste of bile in his throat. "So Stuart ..." he starts. "Is he ... is he gay?"

Fiona stares at him for a second, and then she throws back her head and laughs. Before Puck can ask her what's supposed to be so funny, she fists a hand in Puck's t-shirt and drags him across the room. Kurt has finally climbed off his chair, with Stuart's help, without doubt. He looks flushed and weirdly upbeat, and Puck can hardly stand to look at him.

"Hey sweetie", Fiona grins, nudging Stuart softly with her elbow. "My boy here wants to know if you are gay."

"Gay as a red velvet cupcake with sprinkles, that's me", Stuart nods, throwing a blinding smile in Kurt's direction that makes the boy blush furiously, and it reminds Puck of the last time he made Kurt blush like that: how the flush didn't stop at his neck, but spread all over his body, up to the tips of his ears and down to the tender skin in the hollow of his knee.

"You seem surprised" Fiona says. "Baby, it's Glee club. Half of the guys in Glee club are gay."

"Not where we come from, they aren't", Kurt says. He's not looking at any of them, instead contemplating the finger nails of his left hand with the little smirk on his face that means he's feeling bitter about something. "In Lima, people still get burned at the stake for that."

"Not you, hopefully", Stuart says, and he actually sounds concerned. Kurt flashes him a smile, small and crooked, but not without warmth.

"Nah", he answers, "I'm the last specimen of an endangered species. I'm safe." He's watching Puck now, that tiny half-smile still on his face, and Puck clenches his teeth and looks away.

***

In the bus on the way back, Puck is sitting in the front with Matt, as far away from Kurt (and Quinn, and Finn) as possible. He can feel Kurt's eyes on him, but he tries to ignore them; instead thumbing through his cell phone, staring at Fiona's number that he allowed her to punch in before she left. He's not going to call her, but it makes him feel slightly better to know that he could.

That doesn't stop him from finding Kurt's car in the school parking lot when they get back to Lima. It takes him a while to get rid of the boys, who try to convince him to have a celebratory beer or two at Mike's place, so Kurt is already waiting for him in the car when he gets there, his fingers drumming a rhythm on the steering wheel that Puck doesn't recognize. Kurt doesn't say anything when Puck opens the door and gets in, and Puck doesn't speak either, so they just sit there, next to each other, staring ahead, until Kurt sighs and turns to face him.

"What is it, Noah?" he asks, his tone patient and exasperated at the same time, and Puck suddenly hates the idea that Kurt knows him so well.

He shrugs, going for casual. "So" he says. "That Stuart guy was really into you."

Kurt actually looks surprised for a second, as if he expected Puck to say something else, and then his face closes down.

"You mean, like that Fiona girl was all over you?" His voice is flat, and his fingers have stopped their tap dance, instead clenching the wheel in a grip that turns his knuckles white.

Puck knows he could turn this into a fight. He could make a cruel comment or two, and Kurt would get indignant and say something mean and vicious in return. Puck would yell at him, and Kurt would tell him to get out of the car, leave him standing in the dark parking lot, watching the car's tail lights disappear down the street. It's not as if they haven't done it before.

"O, was she?" he says instead, with a smirk and a raised brow, and he's reaching out already, finger tips skimming over the smooth skin on the back of Kurt's hand. "You know, women are fawning over me all the time, I guess I just don't even notice anymore." He knows it was the right thing to say when Kurt snorts, his fingers relaxing under Puck's touch.

"So modest, Mr. Puckerman" he mocks, even while he's intertwining his hand with Puck's. "Does this mean you want to stay at my place tonight?"

***

That night, Puck writes his name all over Kurt's body, any way he can: It's in the bruises his fingers leave on Kurt's arms, the bite marks his teeth cut into Kurt's collar bone, the hard thrusts of his pelvis. And Kurt doesn't complain, doesn't say anything; just clings to him with a desperation that seems to answer Puck's own despair.

2.

Their four months anniversary was two weeks ago. They didn't talk about it, didn't acknowledge it – and why would they if they don't even really acknowledge that thing between them at all – but Puck remembered because it was exactly four months after his 18th birthday: a day that should have been special, but instead had begun sad and lonely, since the only people who knew about it didn't talk to him anymore, and he had never bothered to tell anyone else.

He remembered how the feeling of having nothing left to lose had made him reckless; remembered his soaked towel on the tiled floor of the shower stall and how Kurt was shivering with cold and exhaustion, the wall behind him barely keeping him upright; how Puck had wanted nothing more than to pull him in, wrap him up in his arms and feel Kurt's heartbeat against his own, and how he had done just that, even though his head had been screaming at him to push Kurt away and walk out, without looking back.

The calendar on his night stand told him that it had been four months since that day, and he almost laughed when he realized, because he had never been with anyone that long before. He bought the weed on a whim when he caught Mr. Ryerson sneaking around behind the bleachers and convinced Kurt to ditch school after third period; drove them out to the river, stopping at a gas station on the way, so that Kurt could buy a bag of Reese's peanut butter cups and a large bottle of diet coke. Half a joint made Kurt mellow and soft; his head ended up resting in Puck's lap, and Puck dared to comb his fingers gently through his hair because he knew that Kurt was too high to notice.

"You are a bad influence on me, Noah Puckerman", Kurt said seriously, staring up at him with dark, dilated eyes. "But I like you anyway. God help me, but I do."

Everything felt right, that day, and if Puck could have caught that feeling in his palm and carried it home to keep it in the drawer of his desk, to look at it whenever he wanted to, he would have.

***

Both of them are good at the pretending that nothing has happened game, and for once, Puck thinks that might actually be a good thing. Kurt doesn't mention Stuart again, and Puck ignores Fiona's calls and tries not to think about how things have changed.

Mercedes Jones has always been good at destroying his illusions.

"Did you call Stuart yet?" Mercedes asks. They are waiting for Mr. Schuester, who's late as usual, forcing them to group themselves in awkward formations around the truce that has been called after Sectionals.

Sometimes, while Santana is busy chatting with Quinn, Brittany talks to Puck, and those are the rare occasions when he actually gets to talk to Kurt during glee, because Kurt and Brittany are friends. But mostly, Puck ends up sitting with Matt, these days, and sometimes with Mike, depending on which one of them is entertaining Finn on the other side of the room.

Sitting next to Matt usually means sitting in the row behind Mercedes, Tina and Kurt; and it means that he can see Kurt's shoulders tensing up at Mercedes' question.

"What are you talking about?" Kurt asks, voice stilted, looking down at his fingers that are playing with the lace on the sleeve of his lingerie blouse. Puck was there when he found the blouse in the girls clothing section at Macy's and didn't even bother to pretend that it wasn't for himself when he paid for it.

"What I'm talking about?" Mercedes repeats, disbelievingly. "Baby, I'm talking about the hot guy who gave you his phone number last week and told you to call him."

Kurt stops tugging on his blouse and folds his hands in his lap. "Oh, that", he says, drawing out the words. "No. No, I haven't called him."

"Well, are you going to?" Mercedes asks impatiently.

Kurt is silent for a moment, and Puck watches his back tense up even more. "No, I don't think so."

"Why the hell not?" Mercedes exclaims, obviously stunned, and Kurt shrugs.

"He's just not my type."

"Honey", Santana says sternly, looking at him from across the room, and Puck realizes that basically everyone is listening in by now. "Stuart Emmerson? That guy is everyone's type. How can you not want to tap that? I'd be on my knees in a second if he asked me to."

Kurt looks up at her, and Puck doesn't have to see his face to know that he's smiling that wistful, humorless smile. "You are welcome to try and turn him straight, Santana", he says. "He's all yours."

***

Kurt doesn't even look surprised when he sees Puck waiting for him at his car. He just exhales a resigned little sigh and grips the strap of his Prada bag tighter, watching Puck with wary eyes.

"You know, I don't remember you telling me that Emmerson gave you his number", Puck says, and only when he hears his own voice, rough and shaking a little around the edges, he realizes how upset he actually is.

"That's probably because I didn't", Kurt replies flatly. His face is blank.

"And why didn't you?" Puck asks sharply. He knows full well that it's stupid to act like he does, that he's got no right to behave this way, not when he never mentioned that Fiona's number has been saved in his cell phone for over a week. But knowing that he acts irrationally, watching himself fall back into old habits, just fuels his anger: at Kurt, at himself, at the world that never seems to give him a break.

He pushes away from the car, fists clenched at his sides, and Kurt's eyes widen; he takes a step back, and Puck can see his fingers trembling around the leather strap of his bag. Almost as if he is scared.

"There was no point", Kurt answers, carefully. "I didn't plan to call him anyway."

Puck knows he's telling the truth. There's no guilt in his expression, only this weary, careful look, as if he isn't quite sure that Puck isn't going to hit him. And Puck knows he should drop it, should throw a placatory arm around Kurt's shoulders and take him home, but seeing that expression on Kurt's face, the look that Puck thought he'd never have directed at him again, makes him want to lash out, with the force of all those jumbled feelings in his chest.

"Are you sure?" he asks harshly. "I mean, it's not as if hot guys have been lining up to ask you out, right? I didn't think you'd pass up such a chance." He closes his hand around Kurt's chin, forcing him to look up. "Who knows if there's going to be another opportunity like this ..."

Puck can feel the shiver running through Kurt's body right before he breaks. There are tears in his eyes when he yanks his jaw free from Puck's grip. "What do you want from me?" Kurt yells, stumbling back. "I don't want to call him, I'm here with you, isn't that enough?" He stares at Puck, eyes red and desperate, and then he deflates, shoulders slumping. "What do you want from me?" he murmurs. He looks so small, all of a sudden, so young, and all that anger in Puck just peters out, seeps away, leaving nothing behind but a vast expanse of remorse.

Kurt flinches when he approaches, but he doesn't move away, holds still when Puck puts his arms around him, cradles him against his chest. "What do you want?" he repeats quietly, face buried against Puck's collarbone, and Puck doesn't know what to tell him.

***

Puck has never been good at apologizing, but this afternoon, he does his best to make amends. He lets Kurt choose the tv channel and doesn't complain when Kurt's feet end up in his lap halfway through an old episode of Dawson's Creek; instead, he pulls off his socks and starts rubbing his feet, massaging every single one his frail, white toes until Kurt is making little noises of delight, tiny puffy sighs that Puck is going to treasure if only because he's the only one who gets to hear them.

Eventually, Kurt falls asleep on the couch, face relaxing as his head rolls back, and before Puck sneaks out, he pauses to shove a cushion under his neck, to run gentle fingers over his forehead to comb back an errant strand of hair.

3.

"You can't tell anybody about this", he had said, that first day, and had shaken Kurt's shoulders until the boy's head had bumped against the wall behind him, then drawn him close again in a rough, silent apology. "You hear me? Nobody can know about this," he had whispered against Kurt's neck, and Kurt had curved a hand around the back of his head, petting him gently.

"I won't", he had said soothingly, "don't worry, I won't."

Kurt kept his promise. He never said a word, not to Mercedes, not to Brittany; he didn't say anything when one of the seniors on the hockey team slammed his head against a half-opened locker door, calling him "Hudson's little whore"; not when Rachel asked Kurt, loud enough for everyone to hear, if he was finally over his little crush on her new boyfriend; not when Santana told Puck, half gleefully, half condescendingly, that her cheerleader friend Rebecca had expressed an interest in him.

They sneak around at school, casting furtive looks across the lunch tables, texting each other during history class, stealing quick kisses under a secluded staircase when the longing gets too much. On the weekends, they get out of town, drive down to Findlay to hang out at the Findlay Village Mall or go catch a movie in Marion. Most of the time, though, they spend in Kurt's basement room.

Kurt's place is always Puck's first choice, because there are no thin walls, no little sister trying to sneak up on them, no mother looking down with suspicion on anybody who's not Jewish; instead, there's a large bed and a huge tv set and, sometimes, non-kosher crab cakes; and if Kurt's father suspects what they are doing, he hasn't said anything yet, just gives Puck these sharp looks when he lets him in, nodding a silent greeting before retreating again.

It's complicated, and exhausting. Puck doesn't mind. Nobody knows about them, and so there's nobody to take this away from him. There's no Rachel who can't keep her mouth shut, no Finn to take once again whatever Puck wants the most, no Quinn making decisions that should be his to make, as well.

But now there's Stuart, and even if neither of them ever will see him again, Puck hates him just for taking that from him, for upsetting their fragile balance: Now Puck knows that there are others who will want what's his, and even worse: Kurt knows it, too.

***

Puck is about to leave the school after last period, when he runs into Mercedes, Tina and Brittany huddled together at the entrance, staring out at something in the parking lot. He plans to walk past them without a second glance when Tina's hand reaches for his jacket, holding him back.

"You can't go outside right now", Mercedes tells him sternly, as if even the idea of wanting to leave the school is outrageous.

"What, is it raining toads?" Puck asks, raising a brow.

"No", Brittany answers with a frown. "Why would it? It's not even cloudy today."

"Not that I think you'd care" Mercedes says, "but Stuart Emmerson is here."

Tina nods excitedly. "He drove all the way down from Findlay to see Kurt. They are talking in the parking lot. I bet Stuart is here to ask Kurt on a date. Isn't that romantic?"

Puck doesn't bother to answer. He isn't sure he would be able to get a word out, anyway, because the lump in his throat is squeezing down on his windpipe, threatening to suffocate him. Instead, he steps around the girls, shaking off their attempts to hold him back.

It's not difficult to find them, because Kurt's dark red jacket catches his eye immediately. He doesn't remember the name of the designer, but he remembers how giddy Kurt was the day he bought it, flushed and excited, and how he moaned when Puck spread him out on the bed and bent down to push his tongue between the cheeks of his ass for the very first time.

They are standing near the dumpsters, of all places, too close to each other. They aren't touching, and as Puck approaches, he can see that neither of them look particularly happy, but it does little to calm him down.

"You know what people call this?" Puck asks, stopping only a few feet away. "Sleeping with the enemy."

Kurt looks tired when he turns around to face Puck. "Don't even get started, Noah", he sighs. "Stuart was just about to leave."

Emmerson frowns at Puck, before giving Kurt a worried look. "I don't know, Kurt", he says. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I don't want you to get hurt."

Puck grits his teeth, but Kurt just shakes his head. "It's fine" he says calmly. "I'll be alright."

Emmerson looks like he's about to protest, but suddenly his expression changes, as if he just realized something. "Oh, Kurt", he says, and his voice is sad. "I didn't know it was like this. Why didn't you just tell me?"

Kurt is silent, staring down at his shoes, and Emmerson nods.

"I see", he says slowly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Well, if you ever decide that you want something better. Just give me a call."

He turns around and walks away. Kurt is not once looking up to watch him go.

"What did he want?" Puck asks, and Kurt is still staring down at his feet.

"I didn't call him, Noah", he says, voice worn out and low. "He just showed up."

"Not what I asked", Puck snarls, and Kurt finally lifts his head.

"What do you think he wanted?" he snaps. "He wanted to ask me out. He wanted to take me to the opera in Columbus."

"The opera", Puck says sarcastically. "Well, how could anybody try to compete with that?"

And then something hits him in the chest, and it takes a moment for him to realize that it's Kurt, who is suddenly right in front of him and delivering punches against his ribcage with tiny, hard fists, over and over, making those small, hitching noises, until Puck reaches out almost automatically to grab Kurt's wrists and force them away from his chest.

"I said no, okay?" Kurt shouts, struggling against Puck's grip. "I watch you flirt with girls all the time, rub it in my face that I'm just – that I'm just a second choice, your dirty secret, as if I didn't already know that, and I still said no."

Puck lets go of Kurt's hands, watches his arms drop limply. There will be fresh bruises tomorrow on Kurt's forearms, like purple bracelets circling his wrists.

"But you didn't want to say no", he says, and it's kind of a surprise to find out how much it hurts to say it. "You wanted to say yes, didn't you?"

"Maybe I just want to go on a date like other people do, just once", Kurt bursts out, and his eyes are wet. He's shaking, too, his whole body trembling with tension and unhappiness. "Maybe I think it would be nice if I was with someone who's not ashamed to be seen with me. Maybe, just once, I want to be in love with someone who actually might love me back."

"Kurt?" Both of their heads whip around at the sound, and there are the girls, standing in the middle of the parking lot, watching them with confusion and suspicion.

"What the hell is going on here?" Mercedes asks sharply, narrowed eyes darting back and forth between them.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt asks weakly. He drags a sleeve over his face to rub away the tears that have started to fall, but it's still pretty obvious that he has been about to cry.

"You were yelling", Brittany explains, tilting her head to the side. "You were very loud."

"Are you alright, Kurt?", Mercedes asks, her gaze fixed on Kurt now. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Mercedes, don't worry", he says, smiling faintly.

"You don't look fine", Mercedes says with a frown, but Kurt just shakes his head.

"Really, everything is alright", he says. "Do you want me to give you a ride home?"

Puck keeps his eyes on him as he walks away, but Kurt never looks back.

4.

Puck thinks of his daughter. He hasn't even seen her since she was born, eight weeks ago, because Quinn's parents will never let him lay an eye on her, not if they can help it.

Quinn missed school for a week, and when she got back, her baby bump was gone. Quinn acted as if nothing ever had happened, and everyone pretended that everything was fine, except that it obviously wasn't.

Puck thinks it's rather ironic that, after all of them fought so hard, over and for this child, they have all given it up so quickly and without protest: because it reminded them too much of all their lies, their betrayal, their mistakes.

Finn didn't want to raise the child with Quinn, and Quinn didn't want to raise it with Puck. Mr. Schuester didn't want to raise it with his wife; Mr. Schuester's wife was in no condition to raise a child on her own, and Quinn didn't want to. Nobody ever asked Puck what he wanted to do.

In the end, Quinn's parents decided to take the baby. In exchange for the daughter they'd kicked to the curb, they took the child like in a barter; and Puck knows that they are going to raise this girl exactly like they raised Quinn, because they aren't people that learn from their mistakes.

Sometimes, the thought makes him want to punch things. Once, it made him want to punch Kurt. He gave him a split lip that day and a bruise spreading all over the left side of his face, and then couldn't stop crying while he pressed an ice-pack against Kurt's swollen jaw until his fingers were stiff with the cold.

There are only two people he wants to tell that he loves them, and now he wonders if he'll ever get the chance.

***

Kurt doesn't answer his phone. He is ignoring Puck's phone calls, he isn't answering his texts, and Puck is almost sure he deletes them without even looking at them.

Puck still sees him at school, but Kurt has started spending a lot of time in Finn's or Quinn's company: he has to know that Puck won't confront him with one of those two around.

Nobody else treats him any differently. It's not as if a lot of people want to be friends with him nowadays anyway, but there are no accusations or nasty looks – because nobody knows what happened, and Puck thinks he should be grateful that after everything, Kurt still hasn't said anything. Instead, he wishes for the first time that people knew about them, because this thing between Kurt and him might be over, and nobody cares, since nobody realizes that they were even together in the first place.

It takes him a week until he knocks on the glass door to Kurt's basement room around ten at night.

"What do you want, Noah?" Kurt asks when he opens the door. He's already in his pajamas, and his face is glossy and softened by facial scrub and skin cream. Puck misses him so much that he thinks his heart might give out from the pain.

"I don't want to lose you", he says, and tears are already welling up in his eyes. He blinks them back.

"Really?" Kurt replies bitterly, "I never would have guessed." His face is full of miserable distrust, and he doesn't move to let Puck in. When Puck reaches out tentatively to touch his arm, he takes a hurried step back, as if he's about to shut the door in his face.

"Wait!" Puck begs, and it must sound desperate enough, because Kurt stops, looking at him with wide eyes.

"I thought", Puck says, and his tongue drags, feeling too big and heavy for his mouth. "I thought if nobody knew about us, nobody would be able to ruin it." He swallows. "And I didn't want it to end."

Kurt drags a shaky breath. "I thought you were just worried about your reputation", he whispers.

"What reputation?" Puck laughs harshly. "My reputation is worth shit these days. Everyone hates me anyway."

Kurt lowers his head, looking down at his naked feet curling against the door sill. "Not everyone", he says quietly. "I don't."

Puck wants to plead, wring his hands, beg Kurt to let him try again, but Kurt is still not looking at him. Instead, his eyes are on the guitar case at Puck's feet.

"So – what's with the guitar?" Kurt asks, voice low, and Puck shrugs, almost ashamed.

"I wanted." He sighs. "I thought I could sing for you."

Kurt looks up at him. His face is soft and curious, and Puck feels shaky with the hope budding in his chest. "What were you planning to sing?"

"If a song could get me you", Puck replies, and watches Kurt's lips curve into a gentle smile.

"You are aware that this song is usually sung by a girl, aren't you?" Kurt asks.

"I changed the key", Puck murmurs, and Kurt's smile widens.

"Well", he says. "You better come in. We wouldn't want to wake the neighbors."

***

Puck sings Marit Larsen for Kurt, and then another song, and another, until Kurt finally takes the guitar from his hands and kisses him.

Puck doesn't go home that night. In the morning, he wakes with Kurt's head buried under his chin, and Mr. Hummel doesn't bat an eye when Puck tails after Kurt into the kitchen, just gives him the usual nod and asks him if he wants eggs.

5.

Once, he dreamed that it wasn't Quinn whom he'd got pregnant. In his dream, they lived in a small, pretty house with a garden and a white picket fence, and his clients called him because he did a good job, and not because he was known for going down on them afterwards.

Kurt kissed him goodbye at the door in the mornings, his belly heavy with child, and Puck's mother smiled a lot and drove down to the mall to buy tiny romper suits for the daughter they were going to have.

The dream made Puck angry when he woke up from it: Reality was not like that, and not just because there was no way he'd ever get Kurt pregnant. There was no point in wishing for things he knew he couldn't have, and having them shown to him in a dream felt like being mocked by fate.

Now, he's starting to wonder if he might have been wrong. Maybe you can get what you want after all, if only you are willing to fight for it.

***

He eats the scrambled eggs that Mr. Hummel serves him and rides with Kurt to school. Lady Gaga plays on the radio, and Kurt sings along, and before they go their separate ways in the parking lot, he leans over to rub his fingers over Puck's mohawk in a fleeting caress.

Maybe that's why Puck calls Fiona after third period and explains why he hasn't kept in touch. "I'm with someone else", he says, and it's not as hard to say as he thought. Fiona is not all that surprised, which means that she has probably talked to Emmerson. He doesn't ask what she knows, though, and she doesn't tell him, just says lightly: "Next time, we are going to win again", and he laughs and replies: "You are on."

He's still smiling when he walks into glee practice that afternoon, and Kurt looks up at him with a tiny smile of his own, so Puck crosses the room to sit down in the empty chair next to him.

"Hi", he says, and Kurt answers "Hi", sounding shy, but pleased, and Puck grins at him.

He ignores Matt's confused looks and Mercedes' stare that says she's going to want answers later, and his good mood lasts until Rachel refuses to do the duet she's supposed to sing with him.

"Country? Seriously, Mr. Schuester?" she asks disgustedly, and while Puck knows that Rachel indeed isn't very fond of Johnny Cash, he's also fairly sure that her protests have more to do with the fact that Finn is still not talking to Puck. It's not a surprise, but it still hurts to realize that she will always pick Finn's side without hesitation, that nothing has changed at all, and -

"I can do it", Kurt says.

"What?" Mr. Schuester asks, brows raised, and Kurt smiles his wide, confident smile. "I can sing that song with Noah if Rachel doesn't want to."

Mr. Schuester sighs. "Kurt, look", he starts, but Kurt interrupts him before he can say anything else.

"That song is one of my dad's favorites, I listen to it all the time", he says, challenge in his voice. "And if this is about me not being a girl again – I swear, Mr. Schuester, I'll come to school in a skirt and pigtails from now on, if that's what it takes."

The look Mr. Schuester gives Kurt seems almost awed, and Puck can't blame him, because Kurt is fierce and proud and beautiful. He thinks: This is mine. Nobody else gets to have this, and for the first time, he actually believes it.

"He's right, Mr. Schue", he says calmly. "You should let him sing it."

"Alright, fine", the teacher says, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Give it a try." Puck thinks he probably just doesn't want to explain to Figgins why one of his male students is wearing sundresses to school now.

So they sing Oh What a Good Thing we had. They rock the song, of course, but in the end, that's not even what's important. Important is that they are here, together, singing a song that was never meant to be sung by Noah Puckerman and Kurt Hummel from Lima, Ohio.

And looking at Mr. Schuester's amazed face, Mercedes' delighted smile, and Quinn's expression that is not quite anger, not quite regret, Puck thinks that maybe, if he can fight for Kurt, if Kurt can fight for his song, then maybe he can even try to fight for his child. Maybe they can try together.

And for the first time in a very long time, he dares to believe that someday things might actually be alright.