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Puck doesn’t pack like he’s never coming back, but he packs for more than one night, because he thinks the last thing he needs is coming home after just one day to more of his ma’s yelling. A few days away and maybe he can figure out what his ma’s problem is, and maybe she can spend the same few days thinking about getting over whatever her problem is. He knows she doesn’t have a problem with the two guys at temple who are married or partners or whatever, and she’s never said anything to make Puck think she had a problem with gay people, really, so maybe it’s just that he is the one that’s gay. Or, Puck mentally concedes, maybe she just had a crappy weekend and Puck’s comment was one too many.

Whatever it is, Puck writes a short note and drops it on the coffee table before he heads out the door, so his ma will know where she is, and then he heads out the door, walking slowly towards Finn’s. He walks slower than usual, even though it’s cold, because he’s using the time to decide if he wants to talk about it with Finn when he gets there, or just ignore it. Both of them sound good, if Puck’s honest, and Puck finally decides on ignoring it if Carole’s around or asking, but if it’s just he and Finn, in Finn’s room or something, then maybe he should.

Puck goes to the side door and sets his guitar down long enough to knock, and then he picks it back up and waits. Finn opens the door, his eyebrows already scrunched together, and waves Puck in.

“What’s up?” Finn asks.

Puck looks around for Carole and doesn’t see her, so he starts talking as he walks towards the stairs. “I guess I fucked up, just talking,” Puck says, “but she thought I was developing a meth addiction or something.”

“Seriously?” Finn asks. “‘Cause your face isn’t gross or anything. And then, what, she just guessed about the gay thing?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Puck admits, putting down his stuff and sitting on Finn’s bed. “She said I was being all secretive and staying away all the time, and I said something about wanting to spend time with my boyfriend. I think. I wasn’t really paying attention, you know? And then she just sort of…” Puck trails off and shrugs. “She wasn’t very happy about it.”

Finn winces. “Ouch. Yeah. Dude, that sucks.”

“She kept telling me I wasn’t really gay or something like that. I figured giving her some space was a good plan.”

“Yeah. Otherwise you might’ve started telling her how gay you are,” Finn says.

Puck snorts, holding back a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think she wanted a list of all of the reasons I was pretty fucking sure.”

“Yeah, you’re, like, really gay, dude,” Finn agrees. “I could write you a letter of gay recommendation.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing,” Puck says, laughing, then he sobers. “Pretty sure she definitely doesn’t want that, either. I think she might’ve suggested I was leading you astray, or whatever that phrase is.” He smirks at Finn. “Am I making you gayer?”

“I’m not sure if even Kurt could do that,” Finn says, shaking his head. “And he has sweaters and stuff.”

“Yeah, good point.” Puck shrugs and lies down. “So I brought enough clothes for a few days. I guess maybe more than that depending on what clothes Kurt picked out for us this week.”

“I told him no more shirts with extra buttons on them.”

“Yeah, that’s good, ‘cause those are confusing. Remember how he got our shoe size before? Maybe it’s shoes.” Puck thinks for a moment then laughs. “Or just socks.”

“I like my socks, though,” Finn says, frowning.

“Designer socks seems weird,” Puck agrees. “What else has he not tried yet?”

“Underwear. Oh, and a hat for me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t even wear underwear most of the time, and Kurt knows it,” Puck says.

“Then maybe underwear and a hat for me, socks and shoes for you,” Finn suggests.

“Maybe so.” Puck pulls off his socks and wiggles his toes thoughtfully. “Toes, that’s something none of us is into.”

“I dunno. Maybe Kurt’s into toes and he just hasn’t said yet.”

“Maybe,” Puck says doubtfully. “But I think he’d think toes was less embarrassing than wanting to be shackled, so I think he would have told us.”

“I found the perfect belts for those,” Finn says. “I just have to talk Mr. St. Pierre into letting me use the drill thingy.”

Puck smirks. “Just don’t tell him why, and maybe you can count it as a graded project.”

Before Finn can respond, Carole stops in the doorway, looking slightly surprised. “Noah, hello.” She looks around the room and then at Finn, even though her words are in theory directed at Puck. “Are you staying?”

“He needs to stay for a couple of days, Mom,” Finn says. “His mom found out.”

“Oh.” Carole shifts her gaze back to Puck. “She was unhappy?”

“She definitely wasn’t happy,” Puck agrees. “I’m still not sure how much she believed me, at least at first.”

“Well, I suppose I understand a cooling off period,” Carole says. “One of you keep me in the loop. I was just going to tell you I was going to bed early, Finn.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mom.”

“Night, Mrs. H,” Puck calls as Carole walks away, then turns to Finn. “Close the door, dork.”

Finn shuts the door. “Hey. It’s cool you’re staying here for a couple of days anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Puck agrees. He sits up long enough to pull off his shirt and then lies back down. “We should convince ‘em we get better grades or something, the more nights I’m here or you’re there.”

“Yeah, we’ll get Kurt to help us study really good this week,” Finn agrees. He takes off his own shirt and undoes his jeans, pushing them off before he lies down next to Puck. After a second or two of silence, he rolls over on top of Puck and kisses him hard. Puck runs a hand in Finn’s hair and then holds Finn’s head still, kissing him back just as hard, and he rolls his hips underneath Finn just slightly.

Finn shoves a hand between them, unbuttoning Puck’s jeans and pushing down on them, rolling off Puck enough that he can get them over Puck’s hips. He moves his mouth to Puck’s neck, kissing down it, then down Puck’s chest, not even getting Puck’s jeans all the way down before his mouth is on Puck’s dick.

Puck puts his other hand in Finn’s hair, too, leaning his own head back. “Fuck, yeah, that’s awesome,” he says, tugging with both hands. “Love your mouth.”

Finn responds by grabbing hold of Puck’s hips and working his mouth farther down Puck’s dick, tongue vibrating slightly as he makes that little humming sound he makes during blow jobs. Puck’s hips jerk upward, pushing his dick deeper into Finn’s mouth, and his hands jerk with the motion, too, pulling on Finn’s hair. Finn’s hands slide underneath Puck’s ass, squeezing it and lifting him, and Puck pulls his head up to stare at Finn for a few seconds before he comes, his hips jerking again and his head falling onto the pillow.

“Fuck, Finn,” Puck pants. “Good.”

Finn lifts his head and licks his lips, grinning up at Puck. “Anytime,” he says.

“Anytime?” Puck asks after a few moments. “I think our history teacher might object. Computer guy might not notice though.” He grins. “What about Coach?”

Finn laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, like I’ve never gotten you off in the locker room before.”

“On the field, though,” Puck says, sliding his hands out of Finn’s hair and tugging at Finn’s shoulders. “I’m still not sure he’d notice. It’d be all ‘Puckerman, Hudson! Run your drill!’ and nothing else.”

Finn climbs up Puck’s body, lying down half on top of him and half beside him with his face nestled in the spot where Puck’s neck and shoulder meet. “Yeah,” Finn agrees. “Probably not.”

“Your mom might just leave the room, though,” Puck muses, imagining the two of them eating breakfast the next morning and Finn suddenly giving Puck a blow job in the kitchen. “You remember over the summer with the stupid straight porn?”

“Yeah. Batporn.”

“We should look for the good stuff. Now that we know,” Puck says. “I think it’d be fun.”

“Maybe we can get some ideas for other stuff to do,” Finn says.

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Puck agrees. He can feel his dick getting hard again and snorts. “Maybe tomorrow night.” He pushes against Finn and turns his head towards Finn’s ear. “Right now, though. You want me to fuck you?”

“Do I ever not want that?”

Puck grins. “No, but I figure it’s polite to ask.”

 

Carole doesn’t go to bed early enough on Monday for Finn and Puck to sneak any porn. By dinnertime on Tuesday, Puck starts to feel weird. He’s so used to being at Finn’s house, even for more than one night in a row, but it’s always been completely by choice before, and yeah, he could have chosen to stay at home and dealt with his ma, but that didn’t feel like much of a choice, either. While Puck eats, he starts willing Carole to take her boxed wine and go to bed early, so that Finn and Puck can get out a couple of the remaining beers and then sneak some porn on the television. They could probably find a better selection on the computer, but Puck figures it’s harder to sneak a credit card than it is to charge something to Finn and Carole’s cable bill.

When dinner’s over, Carole asks them something about homework, and Puck shakes his head while Finn says something about having finished it already. Puck’s not even sure if they had homework, but saying that they finished it does sound more believable. Carole has them clean off the table and then points to the living room, so Puck flops onto the couch and waits for Finn to sit down so he can lean on Finn instead of the just-slightly-too-hard arm of the couch.

Finn sits, putting his arm across the couch back. Puck moves so he’s leaning against Finn, talking quietly. “You think she’ll go to bed early tonight?”

“Maybe. I think I saw her looking at the boxed wine,” Finn says. He slides his arm from the back of the sofa and around Puck.

“Good.” Puck rolls his eyes at the rerun of some sitcom that’s playing on the television. “She should go to bed, and we can watch porn, and then I’ll suck you off while the porn’s on.”

“Cool, yeah,” Finn says. “That sounds good.”

“Just good?” Puck teases, leaning his head on Finn’s shoulder.

“Sounds awesome.”

Puck listens to Carole leave the kitchen and head to her own bedroom, and Puck nods against Finn. “Yeah. I like sucking your dick.”

“Good, ‘cause I love it when you do that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Puck says with a grin, and he puts his hand on top of Finn’s dick. “Too bad your mom’s not asleep yet.”

“Soon, though,” Finn says.

“Yeah.” Puck leaves his hand where it is while they half-watch whatever sitcom rerun is on, only moving it when Carole comes back out of her room and does, in fact, get the boxed wine and tell them good night. Puck waits another twenty or thirty minutes before he nudges Finn’s side. “Let’s see what’s on, now.”

“Awesome,” Finn says. Puck picks up the remote from beside him and tosses it in Finn’s lap. Finn brings up the pay-per-view menu and scrolls down to the red boxes, continues to scroll past the Batporn and lesbian cheerleader porn until he gets to the small selection of dude-on-dude porn. “So, do we want locker room porn, fireman porn, or... looks like maybe college frat porn?”

“I don’t know any firemen, and I don’t think any of us were planning to be firemen,” Puck says. “Maybe locker room porn.”

“Do we have to know firemen to watch firemen porn?” Finn asks.

“We were talking about getting ideas, right?” Puck says. “Plus I bet it has corny hose jokes.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess we can do locker room.”

“Look for one with threesomes,” Puck says. “There’s gotta be at least one, right?”

“This one says it has ‘gay threesome action’ so that’s probably what we’re looking for,” Finn says, clicking on that title.

“Awesome.” Puck shifts closer to Finn as it starts, then laughs. “Our locker room isn’t that nice, though.”

“Yeah, that looks like a college one. Or maybe pro, even.”

“Hey, that’d be cool. The three of us could play in college.” Puck snorts. “Right now, Kurt’s the only one that’d get noticed, though.”

“We’d have to switch high schools,” Finn agrees.

“Hey, there’s how I could’ve fucked you while you fucked Kurt,” Puck says after a moment, his fingers trailing up and down Finn’s dick through Finn’s jeans. “It could work.”

“Those guys are all about the same size, though,” Finn counters, lifting his hips up to push himself against Puck’s hand. “You think it would work them same for us when I’m like two feet taller than Kurt?”

“Maybe if Kurt was on a pillow or something?” Puck suggests. “Or we could try it with Kurt in the middle, but I think he’s still a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, I think that would kinda blow his mind,” Finn says. “It’s a little bit blowing my mind.”

“But hot, right?” Puck asks. “I mean, think about it.” He unbuttons Finn’s jeans and slides his hand into Finn’s boxers. “You’d get to fuck Kurt while I was fucking you.”

“Yeah, that’s really hot. Really hot,” Finn says.

Puck smirks. “I think I know what we’re doing as soon as this is over. Too bad Kurt couldn’t come over tonight.”

Finn shrugs. “Yeah, but I like nights with just you, too.”

“Yeah.” Puck slides his hand up and down Finn’s dick. “Me too.” He lifts his head up and kisses Finn. “You want to watch the rest of this, or you want to go on upstairs? It’s hot, but you’re hotter.”

“Yeah, we’re both way hotter. Let’s turn it off. Real thing’s better, anyway,” Finn says.

“Yeah, it is,” Puck agrees, pulling his hand away from Finn’s dick but leaving Finn’s jeans half-undone. “Real thing’s always better.”

 

As soon as history ends on Wednesday, Puck is out of his seat, leading the other three down the hall. “I swear, if those three try to sit with us today,” he say to Finn, Mercedes, and Kurt, not bothering to lower his voice. He doesn’t care if anyone overhears him and tells Santana or Brittany or Quinn, because he’s tired of sharing the lunch table with them at unexpected times.

Mercedes gives Puck as assessing look. “Maybe you three should eat in a hurry.”

“Mercedes!” Puck mock-gasps as they get in the lunchline. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

“My best friends are fifteen year old boys. I’m not stupid, Puck,” she chides him, grinning, and Puck grins back.

“I knew we were the bestest friends you could have.”

“I didn’t say it was you three!”

“Aww, but we are your bestest friends,” Finn insists, making a dramatically sad face at Mercedes.

“I still haven’t figured out how that happened,” Mercedes jokes.

“Because we’re so awesome,” Finn says.

“We are awesome,” Puck agrees. “Unlike the food they’re serving us today.”

“The food is never awesome,” Mercedes points out, picking up her tray and heading towards their table where, thankfully, there is only Kurt and no one else.

“No one expects the food to be awesome,” Puck retorts, sitting down at the table heavier than he intends.

“No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Kurt replies. “And yet, apparently it always shows up.”

Puck shrugs. “That’s true.” He nudges Kurt’s foot under the table. “You missed it, we’re Mercedes’ bestest friends.”

“So, nothing new, then?” Kurt asks, brushing his hair off his forehead, making that better-than-everyone face he makes.

“Yeah, but she actually admitted to it,” Puck says, grinning at Mercedes, who rolls her eyes at him and then looks a little embarrassed. “What? Don’t tell me you’re ashamed of us now.”

“No, she just doesn’t want to admit she’s been telling me that I’m her best friend for months,” Kurt says.

Puck puts his hand over his heart and leans against Finn. “We’ve been betrayed, Finn.”

“That’s cold, Mercedes,” Finn says, putting his arm around Puck and patting him on the head. “You made us sad.”

"Like you two needed to have me pump up your egos?" Mercedes asks.

"Well, yeah," Puck says. "That's an essential function of a," Puck drops his voice before continuing, "best friend."

“Amazingly, my ego feel just fine,” Kurt remarks. “It’s almost like I know exactly how exceptional I am.”

We know you are,” Puck says. “You’re supposed to let us flatter you.”

Kurt puts out his hand, twitching his fingers towards himself like he’s in the Matrix. “Well, then, lay it on me.”

“He’s the prettiest,” Puck says to Finn in a stage whisper, “but also the ego-whatiscal.”

“He’s definitely the prettiest, though,” Finn agrees. “I could stare at him all day.”

“It’s true.” Puck nods and grins at Kurt. “We should get him a plaque.”

“With a mirror on it,” Finn suggests.

“What’s the dude version of Snow White?” Puck asks.

“Stone White,” Finn says, nodding his head. “Stone Cold Stone White.”

“There you go,” Puck says brightly to Kurt.

Kurt sniffs and narrows his eyes. “That makes me sound like a wrestler.”

“Wrestling,” Puck says to Finn. “Nice outfits. And he’s good at, uh, wrestling.”

“He’s good at a lot of stuff,” Finn replies. “You’re good at a lot of stuff, too.”

“Ahem,” Mercedes says. “We were talking about me.”

“You’re good at a lot of stuff, too, Mercedes,” Finn says. “And you’re awesome and really pretty, and one day I hope you and Mike will have lots of awesome straight-people sex.”

“Finn!” Mercedes says. “Mike and I haven’t even been on a date yet!”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen him in the showers. Trust me,” Finn says, nodding.

“It’s true,” Kurt pipes up, patting Mercedes’ hand. “And he does this hip swivel that leads me to believe he could make you a very happy woman.”

“We can give you some tips,” Puck offers. “Especially when it comes to oral.” He leans forward. “And if he offers, remember you don’t have to immediately reciprocate.”

“Stop!” Mercedes says, scrunching her eyes closed. “I don’t need to hear all of this! We haven’t even been on one date! He might decide he doesn’t want to go on more dates!”

“Why wouldn’t he want to go on more dates with you?” Finn asks.

“Exactly,” Kurt says. “Mercedes, you are gorgeous, intelligent, and more talented than any girl in this school. If Mike doesn’t want to take you out on a second date, he’s clearly an idiot.”

“There’s plenty of idiots,” Mercedes points out, then shakes her head. “You boys are sweet.”

“Totally the reputation we were all going for,” Puck says, nodding solemnly.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” Mercedes counters. “You wanted to be the sweetest, Finn was aiming for nerdiest, and Kurt wanted to be most likely to attend a redneck fishing weekend.”

“Ah, Deadliest Catch,” Kurt says wistfully.

“Finn’d look hot in those tortoise-shell glasses,” Puck says.

“Like a tall, handsome professor,” Kurt agrees.

“With a professor-jacket?” Puck asks Kurt.

“With the leather patches on the sleeves,” Kurt says. “He’d look amazing.”

Puck grins at Finn. “I told you Kurt wants to play dress up with us.”

“I want to play dress down with you, too,” Kurt adds.

“And that, I think, is my cue,” Mercedes breaks in. “I think you three should go find an empty classroom. Not to get naked in.” She stands up and pats Kurt’s shoulder, then walks around the table and does the same to Finn and Puck, squeezing Puck’s shoulder just a little. “I’ll see you later.”

“Well, you heard her,” Puck says a few moments after she walks away. “She just said not to get naked, she didn’t specify what else we could do.”

“I can think of like five things to do that don’t need us to get naked first,” Finn says.

“Then let’s go,” Puck says, standing up. He knows what Mercedes is doing, he thinks, engineering more time for the three of them, especially with the extra squeeze on his shoulder, but no one’s talking about it, luckily, so Puck’s not going to name it, either. “There’s gotta be at least one classroom with our names on it.”

 

Despite Puck’s semi-good intentions, it’s easy to put off talking to his ma on Wednesday evening, and he instead spends another night with Finn. He realizes, when he wakes up at two-thirty-nine to piss, that he actually likes his ma and his sister more than he thought he did, since he actually does kind of miss them, as cool as sleeping with Finn every night is. It kind of sucks a little that he misses them, too, because otherwise he could just unguiltily stay at the Hudson household until Carole either kicked him out or forgot he wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place.

Still, all of that means that on Thursday afternoon, Puck heads home with Finn—for whatever reason, after the first four weeks of school, Coach had declared no practices on Thursday—and they fuck until Carole gets back and feeds them dinner. Then Puck tells the Hudsons that he’s going to at least talk to his ma, but he doesn’t take his stuff, mainly so he has an excuse to squeeze out one more night.

“Ma?” Puck calls when he lets himself into the house through the back door.

“In the living room,” she calls back a few seconds later, and Puck stops to get a glass of water before heading into the living room and sitting down across from her.

“Well?” he finally says, after they stare at each other for about forty-five seconds.

Ma sighs. “Before we discuss anything else, Noah, you didn’t have to leave. You are still my son, regardless of anything else.”

Puck shrugs. “Okay. But I think it was better than yelling.”

“Maybe, but I hope you didn’t feel like you had to leave, that’s the important thing.” Puck isn’t sure that it is the important thing, but it seems to be to his ma, so he nods a little, and that seems to make her happy.

“You were pretty mad,” Puck says, taking a drink of his water.

“I was upset,” Ma says, and Puck resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I was blindsided, Noah, and I don’t think my response was entirely unreasonable.”

“I don’t think it was entirely reasonable, either,” Puck retorts.

Ma stiffens a little, and Puck can’t decide how to react. While he’s still deciding, Ma changes subjects on him. “Going forward, I want to make sure that you aren’t exposing Julie to inappropriate behavior.”

“‘Inappropriate behavior’?” Puck echoes. “What the fu—hell does that mean?”

“I don’t mean, I don’t know, hand-holding,” Ma says, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “I mean more sexual things.”

“Would you say that if I were with a girl?” Puck asks, in the tone that Kurt keeps telling him is ‘scathing’. Apparently Puck’s good at scathing.

“Yes,” Ma responds, almost like a knee-jerk reaction, and it’s that speedy reaction that makes Puck think she’s actually telling the truth.

“Huh.” Puck looks at her for a moment, then nods. “I’m not going to promise it’ll look like it did before you knew,” he finally says. “But it won’t be anything she hasn’t seen in a movie between a guy and a girl.” That gives him a lot of leeway, Puck figures, but it makes him sound pretty accommodating.

“Thank you,” Ma says after a few beats, so it must sound that way to her, too. “I’m still—I’m still concerned, Noah.”

“About what?” Puck asks blankly. “I don’t have any diseases or whatever.” Puck wonders if he’s supposed to be more embarrassed, talking indirectly about sex with his ma, but considering Carole actually buys their lube for them, it doesn’t seem all that weird.

"Other people," Ma says. "I remember what McKinley was like, Noah. And what about what you've always said so fiercely? Not being on the bot—the low man on the ladder?"

Puck starts to snicker, but manages to stop himself. “I never said we were out at school, Ma.”

Ma looks almost surprised by that, but then she nods slowly. “You know how people are, Noah.” She looks strangely fierce for a moment. “They’re going to say things, say things about you and about me.”

Puck almost blurts out “so that’s your real problem,” but manages not to, even though he’s thinking it. It means that her initial reaction makes more sense, at least. Puck didn't exactly get his concern for ‘social status’, as Kurt says, out of thin air. “No one’s going to say anything,” Puck finally answers her.

“You can’t promise that!” Ma retorts.

“Okay, I can’t promise it, but I don’t exactly want to be gossiped about either,” Puck points out. “I just don’t see why anyone else cares.”

“But they do care,” his ma points out. “You need to be careful, Noah. You know they do care.”

“Yeah, I know,” Puck concedes. “But we’re kinda near the top. It’ll count for something.” And Puck is pretty sure it will, in fact, count for something, but he’s not one hundred percent, even if he doesn’t tell his ma that. It could always end up backfiring, idiots getting upset that they’d thought Puck and Finn and Kurt all were cool while they were gay at the same time. Puck doesn’t think that’ll happen, and it’s not like he was planning on making an announcement at halftime at the last game or anything, but he knows it’s possible.

“I hope you’re right, Noah,” his ma says, sounding doubtful, and Puck shrugs. “If you have trouble at school because of this, I don’t think I can help you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Puck says, even though that admission from his ma does sting a little. “All I want is time to do what I want.”

“And I suppose that I can grant,” his ma says, nodding a little. “With the stipulations from before.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Puck says. He finishes his glass of water and sets it down. “I didn’t bring my stuff, since, well, we hadn’t talked,” he adds with a shrug.

“I suppose I understand that.” Ma stands up. “But we’ll see you back here tomorrow evening?”

“Well, Saturday, ‘cause of the game,” Puck agrees, also standing. He puts his glass in the sink and stands there for a moment before calling back into the living room. “Bye, Ma!”

“Bye, Noah,” she replies, and Puck heads out the back door, walking back towards Finn’s house. He lets himself in the side door, because Carole told him on Tuesday that he really didn’t need to be knocking all the time, and quietly heads up to Finn’s room. Carole’s watching Grey’s Anatomy in the living room, and doesn’t seem to notice Puck as he passes. Puck pulls off his jacket as he pushes open the door to Finn’s room, and then he flops quietly onto the bed next to Finn.

“Aaah!” Finn screams, because apparently he had his earbuds in and his eyes closed, and had no idea Puck was even in the room. “Oh, hey. You scared me!”

“I thought maybe that was what happened,” Puck says, laughing. “Hey. I’m back, by the way.”

Finn takes out his earbuds. “Did everything go okay?”

“I guess so.” Puck shrugs. “She doesn’t want Julie to see anything she hasn’t seen in a movie. And she’s worried people are going to talk.”

“Nobody has yet,” Finn says. “Well, I mean, they talk about us, just not bad.”

“Yeah. Probably more worried about herself than me,” Puck says, shrugging again. “I mean, I should have guessed that. Just didn’t think about it enough.”

“So, are you staying here or going home?”

“Staying here tonight. And tomorrow’s Friday night. But Saturday, yeah, I’ll go home.”

“Okay,” Finn says. “Sucks you’ve gotta go, but I guess it’s good you can go home.”

“Yeah. Well, and I can stop making up excuses, I guess, for why I’m gone so much. Might be good.” Puck grins a little. “And I literally promised Julie wouldn’t see anything she hadn’t seen in a movie. That’s probably more than Ma was thinking. Not like we’re gonna do that much in front of her, but I think she’d be downright disappointed if she didn’t get to tease us.”

“She’s a good kid,” Finn says.

“You say that now,” Puck says darkly. “Before the one-thousandth repetition of ‘Finn and Noah, sitting in a tree’.”

“We do like the k-i-s-s-i-n-g part,” Finn points out.

“I’m sorry that I cannot let you impregnate me,” Puck says, straightfaced.

“I’m... yeah, okay, I’m not sorry about that part,” Finn says.

Puck laughs. “Yeah, I’m not actually sorry. Somehow I bet Kurt’s not sorry none of us can get pregnant, either.”

“You should remind your mom about that, and maybe that’ll make her happy!”

“Nah, she’d insist that we’d find a way,” Puck says, still laughing. “She’ll just have to get used to it.” He stops laughing and grins at Finn. “I’m pretty sure we’re not getting any less gay.”

“Nope,” Finn agrees.

“You should fuck me,” Puck says after a moment. “If you want to, I mean.” If Puck’s honest with himself, he’s been thinking about it for a couple of weeks, and while his ma seems like she’s going to be cool with sleepovers and shit, a part of him wonders if it’s not a little bit of a last chance.

“Yeah?” Finn asks. “You want that for real?”

“Yeah. Unless, I don’t know, you don’t want to for some reason.” Puck frowns a little, because he doesn’t think it’s that weird, unless it is weird, and Puck missed where he was supposed to know that.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“Yeah, that I don’t know,” Puck says, smirking at Finn.

“No, I definitely do,” Finn says. “As long as you do.”

"I wouldn't've mentioned it unless I did." Puck rolls closer to Finn. "I mean, you seem to like it. And your fingers are pretty awesome when we do that."

“Okay, cool,” Finn says. “Get your clothes off and I’ll get the lube, then, I guess.”

Puck laughs and pulls his shirt over his head. “Not even going to buy me flowers.”

“You sneeze anytime there’s flowers,” Finn protests.

“I didn’t say I wanted flowers, but yeah, that’s true,” Puck concedes, pulling off his jeans. “Maybe we should try again on that scheme we had in, what was it? Fifth grade?”

“Maybe we should just figure out how to move just you in,” Finn says. He stands up and gets the bottle of lube from his socks and underwear drawer, sitting down on the bed next to Puck and taking off his own clothes.

“They should have starter apartments or something for high school students,” Puck says. “Like training wheels on a bike.” He lies down, raising an eyebrow at Finn. “How’d you want me?”

Finn blinks and sits back. “Oh. Just, however you want to do it, I guess. Was there a way you were thinking?”

“However you want,” Puck says, shrugging. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Yeah, dude, but I’ve thought about it, like, every way.”

Puck grins and grabs Finn’s hand, pulling him down. “Well, pick your favorite.”

“What if they’re all my favorite?” Finn asks, grinning.

“Then I guess you’ll have to fuck me more than once,” Puck retorts, wrapping his fingers in Finn’s hair.

“Better hope you like it, then,” Finn says. He brings his mouth to Puck’s in a hard, sloppy kiss. After a minute or so, he pulls away. “You should get on your hands and knees for now.”

Puck’s pretty sure he’d like just about anything he and Finn decided to do, but he doesn’t say that, just nods and flips onto his hands and knees. “Good?” he asks Finn.

“Yeah,” Finn says, already starting to press one slick finger inside Puck. “Is that good?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Puck says, shifting his weight and moving his hips slightly.

“You look so hot like this,” Finn says.

“Yeah?” Puck says, grinning a little. “You like the view?”

“Yeah. Like watching my finger inside you.”

“You should add another one, then,” Puck suggests, pushing back against Finn’s finger somewhat. Finn pulls his finger out and then pushes back in with a second one.

“Like that?” Finn asks.

“Yeah, feels good,” Puck says, moving his ass again. “And that’s before you hit my prostate, even,” he adds, smirking over his shoulder at Finn.

“Just gimme a second! I’ll hit it just fine!” Finn insists, and then does exactly what he says he’s going to do.

“I wasn’t doubting you,” Puck says, closing his eyes and relaxing towards Finn. “Just—yeah, that again—pointing out it was good before it, too.”

“Well, I hope it’s awesome now,” Finn says.

“S’always awesome,” Puck says with a push of his ass towards Finn. Finn adds a third finger in response, and Puck whines a little. “Like that, yeah.”

“You ready for me to fuck you yet, or you want me to keep doing this?” Finn asks.

“You’d better fuck me,” Puck says. “Especially since we’re apparently fucking all night.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, all those ways you thought about, right?” Puck asks.

“Yeah, guess it’s gonna be a long night,” Finn agrees. He pulls his fingers out of Puck’s hole and pours more lube into his hand, the head of his dick pushing against Puck. “You good?” he asks.

“Be better in a few seconds.”

“Sure hope so,” Finn mutters quietly, and then he’s pushing slowing, but steadily, into Puck. “Good, still?”

“Yeah.” Puck exhales, closing his eyes. “Yeah, fuck, that’s… yeah, it’s good.”

“Yeah?” Finn asks, starting to slowly pull back and push in again.

“Yeah, dork,” Puck says softly. “Fuck, you really are proportional, aren’t you?”

“Is that bad?”

“No. It’s a good thing.” Puck pushes back to meet Finn’s movements. “This is awesome.”

“Yeah,” Finn pants behind him. “Yeah. Fucking awesome. You’re so—god, Puck, you’re so tight.”

“Yeah, well, no one’s fucked me before,” Puck points out, even though Finn’s just as tight every time Puck fucks him. “Fuck, it feels so good, though.”

“Yeah. Yeah it does,” Finn says. “Don’t think I’m gonna last too long,” he admits, thrusting into Puck a little harder. “You feel too good.”

“‘Cause we’re awesome,” Puck says, nodding.

“Yeah. You’re so fucking awesome, oh fuck,” Finn whines. “Fuck, not gonna—”

“Yeah,” Puck gasps as Finn comes inside him, and his eyes open again, feeling it. “Fuck, fuck, that’s, yeah.” He pushes his ass towards Finn, feeling Finn’s body shake a little behind him. Finn cries out loudly, probably too loudly, and grips Puck’s hips as he thrusts forward one more time. As Finn starts to slump against Puck’s back, he wraps his arms around Puck, putting both his hands on Puck’s cock and jerking him off. Puck thrusts into Finn’s hands, moving quicker with each stroke, and he bites down on his lip as he comes sooner than he expects. Puck falls onto the bed almost immediately, Finn still almost deadweight on his back, and Puck turns his head to the side enough to breathe and speak.

“Yeah, that was awesome,” Puck mumbles.

“Yeah,” Finn sighs, pressing his face into Puck’s back and kissing it. “Yeah it was.”

“You’re awesome,” Puck adds.

You’re awesome,” Finn replies.

“Maybe alternating nights,” Puck says. “Three here, three there, or something.”

“Yeah,” Finn says. He rolls off of Puck and onto his own back. “You wanna sleep or something?”

“We could sleep and then you could wake me up,” Puck offers, wiggling until he’s pressed against Finn’s side. Finn rolls and drapes his arm over Puck, resting his chin on the top of Puck’s head.

“Sounds good,” Finn mutters sleepily. “Love you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Puck says softly, closing his eyes and burying his face in Finn’s neck. A few moments pass, and Puck isn’t sure if Finn’s asleep or not when he starts talking again. “You’re my dork.”

 

It started at lunch one day, when Puck jokingly suggested that the three of them should go to wherever Mercedes and Mike were going to be on Saturday night. Since neither Mercedes nor Mike would tell them that, though, it became the three of them just going out. It isn’t exactly a date, Puck thinks, because they just look like three friends hanging out, but it’s a little bit a date, since there’ll be other stuff after they’re out. Either way, Carole drives them over to Burgandys, so they can just walk to the mall after and then decide what to do, and Puck asks the guy at the front for a round table. The guy looks a little surprised by the request, but then nods and gestures for them to follow him.

Puck throws his arms over Finn and Kurt's shoulders as they walk. "Everyone can sit by everyone else this way," he says, voice lowered so the restaurant guy doesn’t give them even more funny looks.

“That’s really smart,” Finn says.

“Here you are,” the guy says, gesturing to a small round table.

“Thanks!” Puck says brightly, grinning at the guy, who barely manages half a smile before he puts down the menus and flees.

“We could get three things we all like and split them,” Finn says, picking up a menu and opening it. “And appetizers.”

“We should decide on either fish or pork, then,” Kurt says. “I find the two don’t complement each other well.”

“Oh, well, why not shellfish and pork?” Puck asks, widening his eyes in an attempt to look innocent.

“Nothing wrong with bacon-wrapped scallops or shrimp, but I couldn’t imagine eating bacon-wrapped halibut or tuna,” Kurt says.

“That does sound a little gross,” Finn says, nodding.

“I try not to eat tuna at all,” Puck admits, “but let’s get fish.”

“I think you’d enjoy seared tuna,” Kurt insists. “It’s nothing at all like the canned kind.”

“There’s tuna that doesn’t come in cans?”

“Did you think it came out of the ocean already canned?” Kurt asks, batting his eyelashes at Puck.

“I did,” Finn says. “Well, I thought they canned it on the boats.”

“Yeah, or at the dock or something,” Puck agrees. “I didn’t know they left anything out of the can except the scales and head and bones, that kind of thing.”

Kurt shakes his head. “Watch and learn, Puck. Or eat and learn, I suppose.”

“You’re going to tell me anchovies are actually part of a larger fish next,” Puck says, making a face at Kurt.

“I’m ordering the duck,” Finn announces.

“No, you aren’t,” Kurt says mildly, without looking up from the menu.

“But I want the duck!”

Kurt glances up from the menu, raising an eyebrow at Finn. “Have you ever actually eaten duck?”

“It’s not pork,” Puck points out.

“It’s also gamey and very greasy,” Kurt says. “I don’t think you’d be happy with the duck. I know I wouldn’t be happy with the duck.”

“Nobody ever lets me order duck,” Finn grumbles, slouching down in his chair and propping the menu in front of him on the table like a barricade.

“Pouting won’t make the duck any less gamey,” Kurt says.

“Maybe we could do poultry next time,” Puck says, frowning at the menu. “I’ve never heard of a mahi-mahi before.”

“Also fish, very mild. Is it served with rice?”

“Risotto,” Puck answers. “Whatever that is.”

“Rice,” Kurt says. “Creamy rice.”

“Why don’t they just call it rice, then?” Finn asks from behind his menu barricade.

“To charge you more,” Kurt explains. “If they called it rice, they couldn’t ask you to pay very much for it, now could they?”

“Good evening,” the server says suddenly from behind Puck, and Puck jumps a little. “Does anyone have any questions about the menu?”

“Yes,” Finn says. “How gamey is your duck?”

Finn!” Kurt hisses.

“Our ducks are—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Puck interrupts the server. “Tonight’s seafood anyway.”

“And will this be one check or separate checks?” the server asks, and Puck looks blankly at Finn and Kurt, because they didn’t really discuss how much of a date or not-date it was.

“One,” Kurt says.

“Very good. And are you ready to order?”

It doesn’t take them too long to order their drinks, an appetizer, and three kinds of fish, even though the server looks kind of harried by the end of it, collecting their menus and then leaving quickly.

“Do you think we scared him?” Puck asks, grinning.

“He was probably intimidated by our refined palates,” Kurt replies.

“Or he couldn’t figure out why we were all here together,” Puck says.

“Can’t three dudes just go out together and eat Italian food?” Finn asks. “Is that not something people do?”

“I don’t know,” Puck admits. “But most of the people here are in pairs.”

“He’s probably trying to figure out who is here with whom,” Kurt says.

“Well, he’s either going to be right, no matter what he guesses, at least partially, or completely wrong,” Puck says cheerfully. “I don’t think he’s going to guess we’re all here with each other.”

“We’re mysterious!” Finn says.

“Confusing, anyway,” Puck says.

“Mysteriously confusing,” Kurt confirms. “Oh, look, there’s our drinks!”

“Which are sadly lacking in alcohol,” Puck says after the server distributes the drinks and flees again. “Since I told my ma I’d be home tonight, we should stop at Finn’s and get the rest of that beer and you two come to my place.”

“Sounds good to me,” Finn says.

“That does sound nice,” Kurt says. “Especially since my dad told me that once the season’s over, Friday night family dinners are back on.”

“But we’re practically family!” Puck protests.

“I might be able to lobby for Finn to attend, as long as Carole’s invited, but since my dad isn’t dating your mother, I don’t know that I can talk him into letting you come, too,” Kurt says. “I’ll bring it up, but I won’t hold my breath.”

“Tell him it’s important for him to… what’s that my ma used to say? Know who I’m spending time with? Yeah, he needs to know who you’re spending time with.” Puck shrugs. “Ma stopped saying that when she realized it was pretty much Finn. Guess she figures she knows you, dork.”

“But I’m mysterious,” Finn protests. “I move in mysterious ways.”

“Yeah, that’s when the door’s closed, and she doesn’t need to know about that,” Puck says.

“Also, I believe that’s Bono, not you,” Kurt adds.

“I could move in mysterious ways,” Finn insists. “If I practiced.”

“How do you practice that?” Puck asks.

“Carefully, in front of a mirror,” Finn says.

“Touché,” Kurt says.

“What’s that word that means sort-of-like?” Puck asks Kurt. “That ends with ‘i’.”

“Semi? Quasi?” Kurt offers.

“Yeah, quasi!” Puck grins. “But the quasi-date thing maybe a little bit isn’t as cool as we thought it would be,” he continues. “‘Cause if we were at one of our houses, there’d be a lot less clothing.”

“Yeah, I like naked better than quasi,” Finn says.

“It is nice to do things out in public sometimes, too,” Kurt says.

“Yeah, but we’re not really,” Puck argues. “Doing things, I mean. We’d have to go to a different town or something.”

“Dinner is a thing,” Kurt says, shrugging. “We could even see a movie.”

“We could play miniature golf,” Finn suggests. “Totally public.”

“Golf’s more public than a movie. I mean, we could do things in the dark,” Puck says, smirking at Kurt.

“Well,” Kurt says, his cheeks turning a little pink.

“You want me to list those things?” Puck asks.

“Can we wait for our food so you don’t traumatize the waiter?” Kurt replies.

“I think he’s already traumatized,” Puck says, looking over his shoulder and not seeing the guy anywhere near, anyway. “I’m just trying to help your circulation, Kurt.” He catches himself before he even starts the word, but for a split second, his brain wants him to go with ‘baby’, just like the week before.

Kurt sniffs dismissively and sips his drink, but his cheeks stay pink. Finn bumps his knee against Puck’s underneath the table, grinning widely. Puck returns the grin, tipping his head towards Kurt slightly just as the server appears and sets down their appetizer.

“Does anyone need a refill?” the server asks, and Finn and Puck hold up their glasses. The server lets out a small sigh, but refills their drinks before leaving again.

“Poor server,” Puck says, shaking his head.

“We’ll tip him good,” Finn says.

“One of us will, anyway,” Puck says, looking questioningly at Kurt.

“Yes, don’t worry about it,” Kurt assures him.

“I guess that means I’m in charge of dessert or a movie or golf or whatever,” Puck says, shrugging.

“Pick dessert. Oh, and maybe golf,” Finn says. “Or that movie where they blow the thing up.”

“We could blow things during the movie,” Puck suggests. Kurt blushes brighter pink and sips his drink again. “But a movie might be a long time investment,” Puck continues. “I mean, we couldn’t do anything except some blowing.” He nudges Finn’s knee and grins at Kurt.

“Yeah, but there’s three of us,” Finn counter, looking at Kurt out of the corner of his eye and obviously trying to hold back a laugh. “That could take up most of the movie, you know?”

“Well, yeah, but if I had to pick, it’s more fun when other things get involved, don’t you think?” Puck asks.

“So we can get cookies and go back to your place?” Finn suggests. “Or cupcakes. We can get cupcakes.”

“What do you think, Kurt?” Puck asks. “You want to get cupcakes and go somewhere more private than golfing or a movie?”

“That would a nice way to spend the evening,” Kurt says, still blushing.

“Nice?” Puck repeats. “Nice?”

“Fine, it would be an absolutely fantastic way to spend the evening,” Kurt admits, “but I’d like to make it out of this restaurant without causing any kind of scene.”

“What kind of scene do you think he means?” Puck stage-whispers to Finn.

“I bet it’s a sex scene,” Finn whispers back.

“Maybe just a kissing scene?” Puck suggests.

“A sexy kissing scene,” Finn counters.

Shhh!” Kurt says, turning bright red. “Can we just finish dinner, please?”

“You don’t want any kissing?” Puck asks, then falls silent and beams at the server as he brings their food. The server looks at Puck suspiciously, but doesn’t say anything as he puts the food down and retreats. “Not even after the food’s been eaten?” Puck continues.

“Do you want a scene?” Kurt asks. “What about the things we can’t do in public?”

“Told you we should go to a different town or a bigger town or something,” Puck says sourly. “I think people in Lima review security tape footage, like on a cop show.”

“I always wanted to be on one of those shows,” Finn muses.

“I don’t think you’re cut out for prison,” Puck counters.

“Nah, I just wanna be one of the bystanders, so I can say stuff like ‘he always seemed so quiet’ or ‘you should’ve seen the fireball!’, stuff like that,” Finn says.

“So we’ll make the scene,” Puck says conversationally to Kurt, “and Finn can watch and make comments to the server as we leave.”

“What if someone from school sees us?” Kurt asks, his voice rising.

“Spoilsport. I was just trying to accommodate everyone’s wishes,” Puck points out, frowning. “Too bad it’s not always Friday night or Saturday night.”

“That would be the best,” Finn says.

“Or, hell, any evening,” Puck adds.

“Why does high school have to be so long?” Finn whines. He props his chin on one hand and stabs the ice in his drink with the other. “Stupid high school.”

“Better than the alternatives,” Kurt suggests. “Prison, a mental institution, homelessness.”

“But we don’t have to know about math for you to play dress-up with us,” Puck says, grinning at Kurt.

“True, but I have to graduate if I’m going to get into a prestigious design program somewhere,” Kurt says. “Besides, your mothers would both be very upset if you dropped out of high school.”

“My mom would literally kill me,” Finn says. “Hey, did I use ‘literally’ right?”

“Did you mean she would actually, physically bring about your death?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah,” Finn says.

“Then yes, you did. Good job.”

“Yay me!” Finn says, holding his fists up and doing a little cheer for himself. “See? I’m already ready to graduate.”

“Fine,” Puck says, sighing. “We’ll graduate so Finn won’t die and you won’t be lonely.”

Kurt beams at Puck. “Wonderful. I’d hate to be lonely.”

“I’m considerate like that. Right, Finn?”

“Yep. Super considerate. Also, super hot.”

“See?” Puck grins at Kurt again and reaches out with his fork to get some of Kurt’s fish. He chews it thoughtfully and then shakes his head at Kurt. “I don’t think you’re telling the truth. That’s not tuna.”

“It’s tuna. It’s pan-seared tuna, which doesn’t taste anything like canned chicken, just like how canned cranberry sauce doesn’t taste anything like real cranberry sauce,” Kurt says.

Puck frowns and looks at Finn. “What’s he mean now?”

“Okay, that’s it,” Kurt says, setting down his fork and knife. “Both of you talk to your mothers tonight. We’re all spending Thanksgiving together. Your mothers, and Puck, your sister, are invited if they want to come, but the two of you are coming over and eating real cranberry sauce.”

“Do you make stuffing?” Finn asks.

“Yes, and not from a box,” Kurt says.

“There’s a kind that’s not from a box?” Finn asks, his eyebrows scrunching together in dismay.

“Forget that,” Puck says. “We have to figure out how to get him all like that over something besides cranberry sauce.”

“Thanksgiving is one of the most important American holidays, plus it’s an opportunity to try out recipes that my dad usually won’t let me make because he has to go to too many stores to get all the ingredients,” Kurt says.

“Maybe flags?” Puck muses. “That’s patriotic. Is it a patriotic thing?” he asks Kurt.

“What do flags have to do with anything?” Kurt asks.

“I ask myself that question every day,” Finn says.

“No, you do not,” Kurt retorts.

“I might. You don’t know. You aren’t a mind reader!”

“You don’t, dork,” Puck says, nudging Finn’s knee again. “And I don’t know, but I’m just saying maybe we could get you this worked up over something else.”

“He gets worked up over some stuff,” Finn points out. “You get him worked up about stuff all the time.” He turns to Kurt. “He just likes it when you get like that ‘cause he thinks it’s hot. Which, yeah, it is, so...”

“Oh,” Kurt says. “Well, then. Probably not flags.”

“Good, ‘cause all I could think of was flag boxers, and I’ve gotten used to going commando,” Puck explains. “And I try,” he says to Finn. “Sometimes he just keeps doing whatever he’s doing, though.”

“He moves in mysterious ways, too,” Finn offers.

“Great, now both of my boyfriends are Irish,” Puck says, shaking his head.

“I think I could pull off those sunglasses, but I’m not so sure about Finn,” Kurt says. “Maybe I’ll be Bono, and he can be that other one, the one who isn’t the Edge.”

“At least we have next year’s Halloween figured out, then,” Puck says.

“Yeah, that’ll be fun!” Finn says.

“You didn’t have some kind of high-fashion thing planned already, did you?” Puck asks Kurt.

“I might have,” Kurt confesses.

“Uh-oh. What?”

“It involved suits. Tailored suits.”

“But why did it?” Puck persists.

“Because you’d look spectacular in a tailored suit,” Kurt says.

Puck exchanges a look with Finn and shrugs. “Fair enough. What were we going to tell everyone else it was for?”

“Secret Service. I would be dressed as JFK.”

“I don’t know, I think Finn and I are more CIA.”

“As long as you ended up in tailored suits, it really didn’t matter that much,” Kurt admits.

“Hmm.” Puck leans towards Finn. “Do you think we should let on that he probably could ask if it’s not Halloween, too?” he whispers.

“Maybe you could use it later to get him all worked up,” Finn suggests.

“Good point.” Puck straightens and looks at the table. “We should go now, I think.”

“Yeah, I need cupcakes and blow jobs,” Finn says loudly, which of course makes Kurt’s face turn pink again.

“In that order?” Puck asks. “Or at the same time?”

“Same time. I’m that thing that sounds like hedges,” Finn says.

“Hedonist?” Kurt suggests.

“Sure,” Finn agrees.

Puck laughs. “I think we all are.”

“I can’t actually argue with that,” Kurt says.

“Just embrace it,” Puck advises both of them. “We’re good at it.”

 

Puck sits down next to Mercedes during first period on Monday and gives her a big grin. “So?”

“So what?” Mercedes asks, almost suspiciously.

“So how was your date.” Puck rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“I could ask you the same about yours.”

“Yeah, but I asked you first, and ladies first anyway, so… how was your date?” Puck says again, still grinning.

Mercedes shakes her head and smiles. “You’re incorrigible. And it was very nice, thank you.”

“Going to go out again?” Puck asks.

“Yes.” Mercedes squinches up her face briefly. “Next week.”

“Awesome. See, we told you he’d want another date.”

“Yes, you did,” Mercedes concedes, her smile a little wider. “But now it’s your turn.”

“You probably already heard all about it from Kurt yesterday afternoon, after he went home,” Puck points out.

“I am scandalized that you had a sleepover as part of your date,” Mercedes whispers.

“Yeah, yeah, more like you were glad to miss part of it for once,” Puck teases her. “We went to a proper restaurant and everything. Did you know not all tuna goes into a can? There’s a part of it that tastes really different.”

Mercedes stares at him for a second and shakes her head slowly. “That’s what you got out of the date?”

“And there’s two kinds of cranberry sauce, and my mom’s excited about Thanksgiving now, because she doesn’t have to cook or go to a restaurant.” Puck shrugs. “She was a little worried about enough food being kosher, but she doesn’t really keep kosher, and Julie and I definitely don’t.”

“Kurt said something about Thanksgiving. I have a feeling Mr. Hummel’s going to be surprised to see all of you show up on Thanksgiving,” Mercedes says thoughtfully. “Kurt said my family could come, too, but we’re going out of town to my aunt’s house.”

“I guess what Mr. Hummel doesn’t know ahead of time won’t hurt him?” Puck offers. “Or maybe Kurt’ll just talk him into it ahead of time.” Puck can picture that, actually, Kurt managing to get Mr. Hummel to agree to something before he understands what Kurt’s even asking.

“Yeah, Kurt could probably talk almost anyone into anything,” Mercedes says.

“Yeah, exactly,” Puck says with a nod, not looking at Mercedes but still thinking about Kurt wheedling something out of his dad.

“Like you or Finn.”

“Yeah, that’s—wait.” Puck turns to Mercedes and frowns. “That’s not… it’s not totally true.”

Almost anything?” Mercedes offers.

“Yeah, maybe,” Puck concedes, falling silent continuing to frown slightly.

“Don’t worry,” Mercedes says as the class ends and they stand up. She pats Puck’s forearm. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Hmph,” Puck says, waving at her and heading towards second period, where he sits down and stares at Kurt, lips pursed.

“Can I help you?” Kurt asks.

“You know, you couldn’t talk me into just anything,” Puck blurts out.

Kurt narrows his eyes and tilts his head. “I... don’t remember saying I could.”

Puck waves his hand dismissively. “‘Cedes did. Which means you may or may not have implied it to her.”

“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I probably could,” Kurt muses. “But why would I?”

“I don’t know.” Puck shrugs. “I’m pretty sure there’s, like, a limit.”

“I’d never ask you to do anything that would get you or Finn hurt, of course,” Kurt says. “Or Mercedes, obviously.”

“I wouldn’t shave my mohawk even if you asked,” Puck says. “See, that’s a limit.”

“I wouldn’t ask that, though. Not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet?” Puck hisses. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There may come a day when the mohawk needs to go,” Kurt says, folding his hands in front of him on his desk, “but today is not that day.”

“Uh-huh,” Puck says skeptically. “And you’re just going to magically know when that is?”

“Of course.”

“I’m still pretty sure that’s my limit, right there,” Puck argues. “I don’t think the mohawk’s going to be a matter of life and death or anything.”

“We’ll see,” Kurt says placidly.

Puck frowns at Kurt and shakes his head. “You told her every detail about Saturday night?” he asks finally.

“Of course not,” Kurt says with a little huff. “I left out absolutely every detail about what happened after we got back to your place.”

“Aww, why?” Puck asks, smirking. “That’s the fun part to relive.”

“She says she’s already seen enough, and doesn’t need a play-by-play after every single time,” Kurt says.

“So you would have,” Puck says triumphantly.

“You just sounded disappointed that I didn’t,” Kurt replies. “So what’s the problem?”

“No problem,” Puck says, grinning smugly at Kurt. “Just wanted to make sure you would have wanted to.” Kurt just smiles back, raising one eyebrow.

Puck’s grin gets wider, and he opens his mouth to respond when their teacher suddenly starts speaking loudly, staring between Kurt and Puck. “Mr. Puckerman? Mr. Hummel? Did you have anything to add about how to work this problem?”

Puck exchanges a quick glance with Kurt, shaking his head, and Kurt answers, “No, we’re both fine, thank you.”

“Then let’s focus on math and not your social endeavours.”

Puck makes a face at the teacher’s back, then rips out a piece of paper from his notebook and writes on it. We should find Finn and skip 3rd. He waits another minute before folding it and putting it on top of Kurt’s notes. Kurt quietly unfolds the note and nods without looking at Puck. Puck grins, which gets him another skeptical look from the front of the room, but the rest of the class passes without either of them getting called on or getting in more trouble, and Puck counts a lack of detention as a win. When the bell rings, he almost jumps up and smirks at Kurt.

“C’mon, I bet there’s no one in the locker room next to the field right now,” he says quietly.

“I think you know the entire school’s schedule better than the administration,” Kurt replies.

Puck shrugs. “It’s a talent. Not one any of our classes use. And neither of you are complaining.” He grins and throws an arm over Kurt’s shoulders, steering him down the hallway. “Are you?”

“If I were, you’d know,” Kurt says.

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that,” Puck agrees, turning down the hall where Finn’s third period class is and motioning to Finn from the doorway. Finn stands up and quickly walks out into the hall with his backpack.

“Hey!” Finn says.

“We’re going to go find an empty locker room,” Puck whispers to Finn, putting his other arm over Finn’s shoulders. “Sound like fun?”

“Sounds awesome,” Finn says.

Puck grins. “Yeah, awesome’s the plan.”

 

Puck hadn’t been lying about his mom being excited by the invitation to Thanksgiving dinner at Kurt’s house, but when she pulls up at the Hummels’ and he and Julie climb out, Puck does wonder exactly how Kurt convinced his dad, or if Burt’s going to be surprised by the doorbell ringing.

Still, either way, Puck suspects Burt’s not going to turn hungry people away, so Puck rings the doorbell and then steps back slightly as they wait. The door opens quickly, a pink-faced Kurt answering the door, dressed in a three piece suit complete with intricately knotted tie.

“Hello! Happy Thanksgiving!” Kurt says. “Mrs. Puckerman, it’s so nice to see you again. Please come in!”

“Hello, Kurt,” Ma starts to say, before Julie jumps up and down and speaks over her.

“Hi! Happy Thanksgiving! Did you watch the parade?”

“My dad and Carole did,” Kurt says, stepping back so the Puckermans can come inside. “I was cooking. Finn has been my sous chef today.”

“You’ve been cooking in that?” Puck asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” Kurt says, straightening his jacket. “I put it on just before you arrived.”

Puck grins and leans forward. “Aww, you dressed up for me,” he whispers.

Kurt’s cheeks flush, and he smiles. “Maybe.”

“What is a sous chef, anyway?” Puck asks, noticing his ma and Julie heading off towards the living room, where Puck figures Carole and Burt are.

“An assistant chef. He chopped and measured, mostly,” Kurt explains. “He’s down in my room now, if you would like to join him. I’ll be down in just a moment.”

“Too bad you didn’t watch the parade,” Puck says, walking towards the stairs down to Kurt’s room. “Could’ve refreshed your memory on those nice high kicks and all.”

“I can remember them without the parade,” Kurt says.

“You should show us later, then,” Puck says, smirking before he heads down the stairs. Halfway down, he calls out, “Hey, dork.”

“Hey!” Finn says. “Did you smell the food? Kurt did all of that! Well, I was his Boy Named Sue chef.”

“Why would you call a boy Sue?” Puck asks, flopping down on the bed next to Finn. “Pretty sure you’re a boy named Finn. Or dork.”

“Yeah, well, if I were a boy named Sue, I’d still be a dork, I guess,” Finn says. “Wanna make out until we have to go up and eat?”

Puck laughs. “What do you think?”

“I think you should come on over here and make out with me,” Finn replies, grabbing the front of Puck’s sweater and pulling Puck down on top of him. Puck smirks down at Finn for a few seconds before doing just as Finn said, kissing him hard. They keep kissing for five or ten minutes before Puck hears Kurt’s footsteps on the stairs. Puck lifts one hand and waves towards the stairs when he’s pretty sure Kurt’s near the bottom.

“Busy?” Kurt asks, sounding amused.

“You told me to come down here,” Puck points out, pulling away from Finn just far enough to speak. “What did you think was going to happen?”

“This,” Kurt says. He walks across the room and sits down next to Puck and Finn.

“So how long do we have until we have to be upstairs?” Puck asks Kurt, eyebrows raised.

“About twenty minutes, then I have to go get everything on the table,” Kurt says.

“You could set the timer on your phone,” Puck suggests to Kurt. “Fifteen minutes or whatever, that’d give you enough time to fix yourself back up.” He runs the back of his hand up Kurt’s tie before trailing his fingers along Kurt’s neck.

“Fifteen minutes is not enough time to ‘fix myself back up’,” Kurt protests.

“No, five minutes to fix yourself back up. Fifteen minutes to fool around,” Puck explains.

“I certainly can’t fix myself up in five minutes,” Kurt insists.

“It’ll take him that long for the blush to go away,” Finn points out.

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about the blush going away.” Puck grins, looking between them. “I mean, I’m pretty thankful for it and all of that.” He pauses again. “Do you and your dad do that?” he asks Kurt. “Going around and people saying what they’re thankful for? Ma and Julie and I never have, but some people do, right?”

“We did for the first few years after my mother died,” Kurt says. “Then we just sort of stopped.”

“My mom always makes us do it. She loves that kinda stuff,” Finn says.

“Maybe my dad’ll want to this year, then,” Kurt replies.

“So I’m not allowed to say I’m thankful for dicks, or blushes, or anything like that, am I?” Puck asks, sighing.

“Puck!” Kurt squawks.

I’m thankful for dicks,” Finn says. “I’m, like, super thankful.”

“Exactly. I’m thankful for dicks and sleepovers and blushes.” Puck shrugs. “Not nearly as thankful for whatever is parent-appropriate.”

“Amen,” Finn agrees.

“I don’t think the list of things you’re thankful for counts as a prayer, luckily,” Kurt says, sounding a little less flustered. “Otherwise, I definitely wouldn’t participate.”

“But what are you thankful for?” Puck asks Kurt, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, Kurt?” Burt suddenly shouts down the stairs. “Where’d the wine-bottle-thingy go? You know, the rabbitty-looking one?”

“Just a minute, Dad,” Kurt calls up. “I’ll come find it.” He smoothes his clothes and turns back to Puck. “I’m thankful I hadn’t taken any clothes off yet.”

“Hmph.” Puck shakes his head, then brightens. “Hey, does that mean we get wine, too?”

“A small glass with dinner, probably, as long as your mothers agree,” Kurt says. “I always get to have one, though it’s usually not very good. My dad doesn’t know very much about wine.”

“My mom drinks wine out of a box,” Finn counters with a shrug. “At least this time it’s in a real bottle.”

“It’s easier to steal box wine, though,” Puck says. “Since she doesn’t really know how much is left in it. Unless she realized and just didn’t say anything.” He and Finn follow Kurt up the stairs and into the kitchen.

“She’s said once or twice she thinks the manufacturers sometimes short the boxes by a couple of ounces,” Finn says. “I told her that’s awful and she should write a letter or something.”

Puck snorts, then responds quietly, since he’s not sure if the parents are listening from the other room. “Just a couple of ounces? Pretty sure we usually took double-digits.”

“I’m not gonna mention that if you aren’t, dude,” Finn says.

“Real question is whose house are we all crashing at tonight?” Puck muses, looking at the various pots on the stove.

“Mine, of course,” Kurt says. “I’ve already cleared it with Dad. I told him you can help wash the dishes and that you both promise to watch at least part of the game with him later.”

“But if we’re watching a game,” Puck whispers to Finn, “and Burt’s in the room, how can we—” he cuts himself off abruptly as all three of the parents, plus Julie, walk into the kitchen.

“Let’s get this stuff on the table!” Burt declares, clapping his hands together. “Kickoff’s at 12:30.”

“Dad!” Kurt says. “You promised. No football until everyone’s done eating.”

“Which is why we should start eating now,” Burt says. “Am I right, Finn?”

“It’s the Packers and the Lions, Kurt,” Finn says, giving Kurt the I-want-something smile. “Those are, like, important teams of the Midwest. It’s, uh. Culture! It’s a cultural... event... thing.”

“We can eat dessert while football’s on, right?” Puck asks Kurt.

“Dessert and coffee,” Kurt agrees.

“Everything smells so good,” Carole says. “Kurt, Ruth and I so appreciate not having to cook today!”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Kurt insists, though his cheeks get a little red and he smiles widely. “I do this for just the two of us every year, then we have too many leftover that never get eaten, and I cry when I have to throw away the rest of the sweet potato soufflé.”

Carole laughs. “I don’t think there will be leftovers with Finn and Noah here.”

“Or me!” Julie insists.

“I’ve never had sweet potato soufflé,” Finn says. “Is it like regular sweet potato?”

“No marshmallow,” Burt explains. “But it’s light and fluffy, like an orange cloud.”

“I’d totally eat a cloud,” Finn says.

“Dork, you’d eat most things,” Puck points out.

“Yeah, and clouds are one of the things I’d eat,” Finn agrees. “Fluffy orange potato clouds.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Puck concedes, and then Kurt starts directing what all of them, from Burt down to Julie, need to place on the table. It takes at least five minutes, Kurt pointing out exactly where each dish should go, and near the end of the process, Puck realizes Kurt really is just directing, and he hasn’t carried a single dish. He leans close to Kurt when he passes him again. “I see how it is, you enjoying ordering us all around.”

“Some people were born to perform, others to direct,” Kurt answers, sticking his nose in the air like a snob. “The table looks perfect, though, doesn’t it?”

Puck shrugs. “Wasn’t looking. Too busy staring at Finn’s ass and how tight your pants are.”

“Look at my table!” Kurt demands.

“Okay, okay,” Puck says, glancing at it. “It’s great. But—” he leans forward, dropping his voice even lower. “Dicks are better.”

It’s a little weird, Puck admits to himself, eating Thanksgiving dinner with Finn and Kurt and their parents and Julie, while their parents and Julie are mostly oblivious. Puck still doesn’t completely trust Burt, either, so he thinks it’s good they’re there for Thanksgiving and part of the weekend, which means he zones out for a little while in the middle of his soufflé, trying to decide on the best pattern for the next few nights.

He’s just settled on Friday night at Finn’s, Saturday night at his place, and if they con Carole into it, back at Finn’s on Sunday night, when Finn elbows Puck in the side, and Puck startles a little before starting to eat again. The food is awesome, though all the non-canned and non-boxed stuff does taste different than the versions Puck and Finn are more used to eating.

As soon as the plates are mostly empty, Burt has the football game on, and it’s while they’re watching the game that Puck realizes Burt seems to find something about Puck and Finn, but more Puck, suspicious. It’s like Burt thinks about Puck the way Puck thinks about Burt, but Puck has good reason to still be a little wary about Burt, at least when it comes to Kurt, and he knows there’s no way Burt suspects about their threesome.

Puck likes football, but if he’s being completely honest, he’s starting to wonder how much of the game they’re obligated to watch. During a timeout, Burt heads into the kitchen, and Puck pulls Finn closer, arm slung around Finn’s shoulders.

“How much of the game do you think we have to watch before we can get Kurt and go downstairs?” Puck whispers.

“It’s the Packers and the Lions,” Finn whines.

“Dork,” Puck hisses. “Burt won’t leave this room for hours.”

Liiiiiii-ons,” Finn repeats.

“Well, if you’d rather watch football,” Puck says, eyebrows raised, “I guess I could get Kurt and go downstairs.”

Finn grins. “I’ll come down at halftime!”

“We’ll have a head start on the naked part,” Puck says, leaning in for a kiss before standing up. “Or at least we’d better, I don’t think you need to get naked up here.” He leaves the room and follows the sound of Kurt’s voice, waiting for a minute until his ma and Carole seem distracted.

“Hey,” he says quietly in Kurt’s ear.

“Oh! Hello,” Kurt replies. “I think the kickoff is in just a few minutes.”

“The part where you kick clothes off, anyway,” Puck says. “There was a timeout, and Finn decided to keep watching. I decided to go downstairs with you.”

“And Finn doesn’t mind?” Kurt asks, peering around Puck and towards the living room.

“He said he’d be down at halftime. I told him we’d have a head start on the naked part. I mean, your dad’s not going to go anywhere but the living room for hours, except for more dessert or the bathroom.”

“If you ladies will excuse me,” Kurt says, standing. “I hate to be a rude host, but I have a few things I need to take care of downstairs. Can I get you anything before I head down?”

Carole and his ma shake their heads, then start talking again, and Puck grins at Kurt before walking towards the stairs. “Just a few things?” he asks once they’re headed down.

“A couple of things,” Kurt says.

“A couple of things that require some privacy,” Puck counters, stopping near the bottom of the stairs and pulling Kurt against him. “Like you didn’t hope to spend the afternoon this way?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t.”

“Maybe you should tell me what you did think about?” Puck suggests hopefully.

“Maybe,” Kurt agrees with a little wiggle of his shoulders.

“It’d be awesome,” Puck says encouragingly, putting his hands under Kurt’s jacket and working at untucking his shirt.

“Hmm. You could convince me,” Kurt says.

“Yeah?” Puck grins and presses his lips to Kurt’s, kissing him slowly and teasingly. “What would I need to do to convince you?”

Kurt giggles against Puck’s lips. “That’s a good start,” he says.

“Which part?” Puck asks, tugging on Kurt’s shirt enough to slide one finger along the skin of Kurt’s back. “The undressing? Or this?” He kisses Kurt again, more insistently, his tongue pushing into Kurt’s mouth at the same time he uses both arms to pull Kurt tight against him. Kurt chirps and squirms in Puck’s arms, shrugging off his suit jacket. “I think both,” Puck mutters, letting one hand slide onto Kurt’s ass as he resumes kissing Kurt.

Kurt moves both his hands up Puck’s back a few times, then slips them under Puck’s sweater and runs them up his back again. Puck lifts his arms slightly, so Kurt can pull off the sweater, if he wants to, and Kurt does exactly that, pulling the sweater up over Puck’s head. Kurt freezes for a moment, looking around the room.

“Just throw it over the bannister or something,” Puck says, almost whining as he tugs Kurt back towards him. Kurt tosses the sweater, missing the bannister, but letting Puck pull him back into a kiss. He uses both hands to start unfastening Puck’s jeans while they kiss. Puck carefully pulls at the knot in Kurt’s tie, loosening it first and eventually getting it undone, along with Kurt’s vest and shirt. Puck pulls out of the kiss and shakes his head a little. “Finally.”

“You didn’t like my outfit?” Kurt asks, his lip turning down as he frowns. “I dressed up for you and Finn.”

“I liked it fine up there,” Puck says, “but it was in the way down here.”

“In the way,” Kurt repeats with a huff. “It’s like wrapping paper. Wrapping paper isn’t in the way!”

“I didn’t know you were a present,” Puck says, smirking a little as he runs his hands over Kurt’s chest. “You going to tell me what you thought about, yet?”

“Why should I, when you’re already doing exactly what I wanted?” Kurt asks.

“‘Cause I like hearing you say it,” Puck admits with a shrug.

“It’s Thanksgiving. I thought you were thankful for something,” Kurt says. “Didn’t you say you were thankful for something?”

“Blushes,” Puck says, smirking again. “Is that what you meant?”

“And other things.”

“Like your dick?” Puck asks, pressing his hand against Kurt’s dick, through Kurt’s pants. “You want your pants off?”

“Oh yes,” Kurt says.

“You want me to lie you on your bed?” Puck asks, backing Kurt towards the bed, his hand still on Kurt’s dick. “Completely naked, before I suck your dick?”

Kurt chirps and blushes as he nods his head rapidly. Puck grins and unfastens Kurt’s pants, palming Kurt’s dick through his underwear before putting his hand inside it. He uses his other hand to tug on Kurt’s pants and underwear, getting them below Kurt’s knees. Kurt steps out of his pants without seeming too worried about where they end up, and Puck uses both hands to push off the rest of Kurt’s clothes, letting them fall to the floor.

He wraps his hand loosely around Kurt’s dick while he works to get out of his own jeans, then moves his hand to pull Kurt against him, and Kurt’s dick is hard against Puck’s. “You want me to finger you while I blow you?” Puck continues, his lips touching Kurt’s ear. “You have to be quiet, though.”

“I can be quiet,” Kurt promises. “I can be so quiet.”

“I know you can,” Puck whispers. “I know you can, you’re my pretty baby, so quiet.” He pushes Kurt the rest of the way back to the bed, kissing him hard as they lie down. Puck runs his hand down Kurt’s side, resting it on Kurt’s hip. Kurt moves his hips, not quite lifting them off the bed, but almost. He reaches out to run his hand over Puck’s mohawk, trailing his fingertips along the side of Puck’s head.

Puck kisses down Kurt’s chest almost randomly, moving from side to side and getting sidetracked for a few moments with sucking gently on Kurt’s left nipple before continuing. When he reaches Kurt’s belly button, he holds up two fingers, pressing them against the corner of Kurt’s mouth. Kurt’s tongue darts out, the tip brushing against Puck’s fingers. Puck grins against Kurt’s stomach and slides his fingers into Kurt’s mouth.

“So pretty,” Puck says quietly, between kissing Kurt’s lower stomach and his thighs. “You’re the prettiest.” He pulls his fingers from Kurt’s mouth and then kisses the very tip of Kurt’s dick. “Even if you know you’re the prettiest.”

“Finn’s too big to be pretty,” Kurt says. “And you’re too...”

“Badass,” Puck offers. “Didn’t mean just of the three of us, though. You’re the prettiest.”

“You’ve never been out of Ohio,” Kurt argues. “How do you know I’m the prettiest?”

“I’ve seen the news and tv shows and movies,” Puck counters, then puts his lips to Kurt’s dick again. He presses one spit-slicked finger against Kurt’s hole and lifts his head. “And I say you’re the prettiest.”

“Say it again,” Kurt demands, in a breathy kind of voice.

“That you’re the prettiest?” Puck asks, pressing his finger slowly inside Kurt. “Or that you’re my pretty baby?”

Kurt chirps and arches his back. “Both. You could say both.”

“I could put my mouth to better use, pretty baby,” Puck points out. “Your dick’s right here, just teasing me.”

“Just tell me one more time,” Kurt pleads.

Puck grins and slides his finger in more. “You’re so the prettiest,” Puck tells him quietly. “My prettiest baby, pretty baby.” He pushes the second finger in gently. “What do you want now, pretty?”

“Put your mouth on me,” Kurt says. “Please?”

“You don’t really even have to ask,” Puck says, chuckling, and then takes Kurt’s dick in his mouth, as much as he can at once, his fingers slowly pushing in and out as well. Kurt moans and lifts his hips off the bed again, his hand back on Puck’s head. Puck closes his eyes, wrapping his free hand around the base of Kurt’s dick and moving it in rhythm with his mouth. He presses his fingers inside Kurt more urgently, his thumb trailing over Kurt’s skin, and speeds up the motion of his mouth.

“Oh, Puck,” Kurt breathes. “Oh, oh that feels so good.”

Puck grins around Kurt’s dick, opening his eyes enough to look up at Kurt’s face, a little bit flushed. He closes them again as he moves his hand from Kurt’s dick and wraps it around Kurt’s waist, using it to bring Kurt deeper into his mouth, and Puck’s fingers slide in deeper with the same motion. Kurt lets out a soft yelp, then puts the back of his free hand against his mouth. Puck keeps up the same speed with his mouth, but he pushes his fingers in faster, deliberately brushing them against Kurt’s prostate but never increasing the pressure on it. The fingers on his other hand move in short strokes on Kurt’s skin, and Puck wishes for a few seconds that he could talk at the same time he’s giving a blow job.

“Puck,” Kurt says in a breathy whine. “Puck, please.”

Puck would smirk, if he could, and he keeps his mouth and tongue on Kurt’s dick, moving them just a little faster, before he does push his fingers against Kurt’s prostate, barely sliding his fingers out before they’re back in, the pressure steadily increasing. Kurt moans again, muffled against the back of his own hand, and his hips start bucking up off the bed. Puck forces his mouth down farther on Kurt’s dick, and his fingers push in harder than before, his other hand alternately clutching at Kurt’s skin and the covers on the bed.

Kurt cries out again, still muffled, and his hips jerk upwards twice before he starts to come, his hand holding onto Puck’s mohawk. Puck keeps moving his mouth on Kurt’s dick, his fingers frozen in place, until Kurt stops moving underneath him. He slowly lets Kurt’s dick fall from his mouth, kissing the underside and then either side of Kurt’s thighs before removing his fingers.

“So pretty,” Puck whispers.

“You should, you should, I want you to,” Kurt murmurs.

“I really hope you mean I should fuck you,” Puck says, shifting his position until his mouth is against Kurt’s cheek and his dick is pushing against Kurt’s hip. “I really, really hope that’s what you mean, because that’s pretty much the only thing I want to do right now.”

“Yes, oh yes, Puck, please,” Kurt says.

“Lube in the drawer?” Puck asks, his hand already reaching for it. “Fuck, yeah, I want to be inside you already,” he admits, his dick dragging across Kurt’s skin.

“Yes, in the drawer,” Kurt repeats.

“Got it,” Puck says triumphantly, putting some on his hand and coating his dick before pushing his fingers back into Kurt’s hole. “Oh, fuck, you’re gonna be so tight.” He pulls his fingers out and bends down to kiss Kurt. “Just like this? Pretty baby?” Kurt nods his head silently, staring up at Puck with his eyes wide in his flushed face.

Puck grins at Kurt, kissing him again before he pushes Kurt’s legs up a little more. He positions his dick at Kurt’s hole and slowly starts to push in, watching Kurt’s face carefully. Kurt has a brief moment of looking pained, almost panicky, but then he relaxes, his eyelids fluttering as he sighs. Puck rocks his hips slightly, moving the rest of the way in, and then he stops, holding himself up against Kurt’s legs.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Feels so fucking good.”

“It’s good?” Kurt asks. “You like it?”

Puck nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s—”

Finn’s voice suddenly comes down the stairs. “Hey, are you two having a—” He stops at the bottom of the stairs. “Fuck. That’s hot.”

“Hey, dork,” Puck says with a slight grunt at the end. “Fuck, I have to move now,” he says to Kurt.

“Move,” Kurt agrees. “You can move. Hi, Finn.”

“Hey,” Finn says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ll just sit here and watch, okay?”

“Yeah,” Puck says, nodding, and his hips rock again, moving his dick slightly in Kurt’s ass. “Fuck, you’re so…” He pauses, trying to think of the right word while he thrusts slowly in and out. “Fragile or something. Delicate.”

“Yeah,” Finn says in agreement. “He is. He’s, like, precious. Like jewels and stuff.”

“Yeah.” Puck pushes in with just a little more force. “Good? Tell me what you want,” he says to Kurt.

“That’s good. That’s so very, very good,” Kurt says.

“You want Finn to kiss you?” Puck asks.

“Yes, please,” Kurt says, turning his face towards Finn, who grins and raises his eyebrows once at Puck before leaning down to kiss Kurt hard. Finn rests his palm against Kurt’s chest while they kiss.

“So polite,” Puck says with a laugh. “One of these days, I want you to ask me to fuck you, please.” He shift his position slightly, thrusting in just a little deeper than before. Kurt squeaks and chirps into Finn’s mouth, rocking his hips up off the bed to meet Puck’s thrusts. Finn’s hand slides down Kurt’s chest to wrap around Kurt’s dick. “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Puck says, sliding in and out of Kurt faster. “Oh, fuck, you two, fucking hot.”

“Well, yeah. Duh,” Finn says, lifting his head to grin at Puck as he starts jerking Kurt off in time to Puck’s thrusts. “It’s us.”

Puck grins back at Finn. “Still thought—fuck—you’d like to hear it.”

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. “Kurt does, too. I can tell.”

“Yeah he does.” Puck speeds up his thrusts, pushing in harder. “Still good, Kurt?” Kurt nods, eyes half-closed. “You want me to go faster or anything?” Kurt shakes his head, letting his eyes close completely. “Better kiss him more,” Puck says to Finn.

Finn leans in and kisses Kurt again, and Puck grins at the two of them even though they won’t notice. He keeps the same speed going, thrusting into Kurt and watching Finn’s hand on Kurt’s dick. Puck feels like he might yell when he comes, which would be bad, so he moves one of his hands, putting his wrist in front of his mouth as he speeds up despite his best efforts.

“Sorry,” he gasps out around his wrist. “Got to—” he breaks off as he starts to come, his dick deep inside Kurt, and he can feel his fingers almost bruising Kurt’s leg. He forces them to relax as the rest of his body stiffens and then sags, and he barely holds himself up. “Fuck, Kurt.”

Kurt can’t answer, because Finn’s mouth is still on his, but he lifts his hips off the bed, thrusting into Finn’s hand. After just a few more strokes, Kurt chirps and moans into Finn’s mouth and then comes all over Finn’s hand. Puck grins and runs his hand down the inside of Kurt’s thigh, wondering again how Kurt’s skin is as soft as it is, everywhere. He runs his fingers over Finn’s hand, through Kurt’s jizz, and then lifts his fingers up to Finn’s mouth.

“You’re so gross,” Finn says, grinning back at Puck before he licks Puck’s fingers clean.

“Yeah, you love it,” Puck counters, slowly sliding out of Kurt and lying down on the side of Kurt where Finn isn’t. “The way I figure it, it’s a good thing I’m awesome.”

“Oh yeah?” Finn asks. “I mean, you totally are awesome, but why’s it good this time?”

“I’m awesome, ‘cause I decided to talk to Kurt on the first day of school,” Puck says, grinning triumphantly at Kurt and then Finn.

“I was at least somewhat involved in that,” Kurt declares, without opening his eyes.

“You looked like you were going to wipe your hand off on your pants after touching me,” Puck points out, laughing. “Look how far you’ve come.”

“All the way up my hand,” Finn says, sounding almost proud. “Some on my wrist, even.”

Puck laughs harder. “Yeah, look at that, Kurt.”

Kurt opens his eyes and glances over at Finn’s hand, blushing a little. “Oh. Sorry?”

“Guess you can stand me touching you now?” Puck asks, grinning and trying to stifle his laughter to talk.

“I guess I can,” Kurt agrees.

“I guess you can stand both of us touching you,” Finn says. “Which is awesome, ‘cause we’re awesome.”

“Yeah, we are.” Puck puts his head down next to Kurt’s shoulder, and reaches across to grab Finn’s hand. “And seriously, dork, this is better than football, right?”

“Yeah, but only ‘cause the Lions are getting their asses kicked,” Finn says.

Puck grins at Finn. “We’re doing more interesting things with asses down here.”

 

Puck waits until they’re far enough up Finn’s stairs that Carole probably can’t hear them before he snorts. “I don’t know what your mom was thinking,” he says to Finn. “I mean, a night in an empty house’d be nice, especially since it seems like weeks since the break and New Year’s, but why does she think we’d be big into Valentine’s Day?”

“Maybe she thinks we need, like, romance?” Finn suggests.

Do you need romance?” Puck asks, closing Finn’s bedroom door. “And anyway, I don’t know how we’d figure out Valentine’s Day with all of us.”

“I don’t need romance, but sex is pretty awesome,” Finn says. “That’s probably Valentine’s enough for me, though I guess we could get Chinese food and watch a movie.”

“Yeah, but dork, that’s most of our Saturday nights,” Puck points out, grinning. “And—oh, damn.”

“What?”

“Kurt,” Puck says. “I bet he needs romance shit.”

“Oh, crap, you’re right!” Finn says. “He probably needs flowers and chocolate and all of that stuff!”

Puck flops onto Finn’s bed and groans. “He’s probably waiting for us to tell him Valentine’s Day plans or something. With that little frown.”

“Oh no, the frown!”

“We suck at boyfriending for Valentine’s Day,” Puck concludes. “Let’s not tell him it took your mom to make us realize. He can just think we procrastinated or something?”

“Maybe we can come up with something really good and he won’t even know we procrastinated,” Finn suggests.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Puck frowns, thinking, then reaches for Finn and pulls him down on the bed. “Oh, wait. I know what we have to make sure and include.”

“Fashion stuff?”

“Us.” Puck nods. “Us in those suits he wanted. Remember?”

“Oh. But... that’s fashion stuff,” Finn says.

“Yeah, but I don’t think we should try to get fashion stuff for him. We’ll tell him you have to go with me to some kind of Jewish thing, so he’ll get the suits, and then we’ll surprise him by wearing them.”

“We don’t really have to go to a Jewish thing, right? I don’t think I like those things.”

Puck snorts. “I don’t like them, and no, no actual Jewish thing. Just suits. Okay, so us in suits, that’ll make him happy. What else did you say? Flowers and chocolate?”

“Yeah. Oh, do you think you can get some fancy wine? Like they had at Thanksgiving?” Finn asks.

“Maybe some of the Passover wine,” Puck says, frowning. “Or I could try hanging out outside the liquor store with a sad expression. It gets us beer from the gas stations. What kind of flowers do you think he wants?”

“Pretty ones. Roses, probably.”

“Yeah, probably so. Okay. We can stop at the Rite-Aid for the chocolate,” Puck decides. “We can let him pick the movie, and put the Chinese on real plates, maybe?”

“Maybe we could put the wine in real wine glasses, even!” Finn says. “He’ll love it.”

“We should mention the suits and Valentine’s Day in the same conversation, so he doesn’t think they’re related. Like, oh, yeah, and we have to get suits. Separating them would be suspicious.”

“Should the same one of us mention it?” Finn asks. “You should say the suit thing for sure, because of Jewish stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, but you should mention Valentine’s Day first, before the suits, ‘cause he’ll get all flirty with you and then blush.” Puck shrugs. “Win-win.”

“Dude, we’re awesome at Valentine’s Day!”

“We are,” Puck agrees. “We should make sure—okay, I’ll make sure—to get more lube. ‘Cause using up plenty of lube sounds like a good Valentine’s Day to me.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t put it on the grocery list this time, though,” Finn says. “Mom might get suspicious.”

“She hasn’t said anything yet.” Puck shrugs. “I mean, what’s there for her to get suspicious of at this point?”

“Right, but maybe putting lube on the list just before Valentine’s Day would look suspicious, especially if she knows Kurt is coming over,” Finn points out. “She might tell Burt and then Burt might kill somebody.”

“I still think between the two of us we can handle Burt,” Puck says. “And I’m still not sure who he’d try to kill, either.”

“Probably you,” Finn says.

“Just ‘cause I don’t trust him is no reason for him to target me,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Anyway, you two wouldn’t let him kill me. Right?”

“I guess it depends on, like, if he had a machete or an axe or something,” Finn says.

“Hey!” Puck protests. “You’d abandon me over a chance of blood?”

“Not blood, dude. Beheading!”

“We could start removing sharp blades from Kurt’s garage,” Puck says. “That way by the time Burt tries to kill anyone, he won’t have anything left to use.”

“What if he needs to, I dunno. Chop some wood or something?” Finn asks.

“Sucks for him, our heads are more important.” Puck rolls onto his side. “I don’t even know which part of it would make him kill us.”

“Probably the part where we’re having sex with Kurt, I guess,” Finn says.

“Yeah, but is it the ‘sex’ part or the fact that there’s three of us total?” Puck asks. “‘Cause I’m not sure he’d try to kill you if it was just you and Kurt. He might if it was me and Kurt, but that’s probably because of the mohawk.”

“My mom might try to kill me if it was just me and Kurt, though,” Finn points out. “And Burt would for sure tell Mom.”

“Your mom’s got some homicidal tendencies,” Puck jokes. “I mean, I guess it’s possible one of them could find just one of us with Kurt.” He raises one eyebrow. “We did sort of blow past that about only if we’re both around.”

Finn shrugs. “It was kind of a dumb rule, anyway,” he says. “If being with Kurt makes you happy, you shouldn’t have to wait for me to get there to be happy. I like Kurt. I like you. Both of you like me. As long as everybody’s happy, I don’t think we need all those rules.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Puck moves closer to Finn, propping his head on Finn’s chest. “I think it makes Kurt happy. He’s that para-thing from English. Really confident but also not, sometimes.”

“Yeah. It’s ‘cause nobody understands him but us and Mercedes, probably,” Finn says. He absently pets Puck’s mohawk. “So sometimes I think it’s hard for him.”

“Yeah, but at least no one’s harassing him,” Puck says. “As long as we can make sure that says true, that’s something, right?” Puck frowns and moves his head a little, into Finn’s hand. “I don’t want him to think he has to change anything.”

“Me, either. I like him how he is,” Finn says.

“Yeah, exactly.” Puck grins. “We picked a good boyfriend, dork.”

“Yeah, we did,” Finn agrees.

“He probably wonders how he got stuck with us,” Puck says, laughing. “Or at least that’s what he’d tell us.”

“Probably, but we know the truth,” Finn says. “He loooooves us.”

“Yep. And we even remembered Valentine’s Day for him. Sort of.”

“Because we’re awesome boyfriends, too.”

“Duh.” Puck lifts his head to look at Finn. “We should do boyfriend-y things that involve being naked now.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re awesome and naked is awesome,” Finn agrees.

“Exactly.” Puck grabs at Finn’s jeans. “Important question is, who’s sucking who first?”

 

It’s a Mike day at lunch, which had started happening in January and now Puck figures Mike sits with Mercedes and the rest of them two or three times a week. It’s sweet, but they haven’t figured out how open to be in front of Mike. Still, Puck prefers a Mike day to a day with Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, and it’s usually not a big deal to leave early under the pretext of the three of them giving Mercedes and Mike a little privacy.

Which is exactly what Puck says, even, standing up and giving Mercedes a big grin, which makes her roll her eyes and shake her head, but she grins back, and Puck smirks triumphantly as he, Finn, and Kurt put their trays back and head into the hall.

“Have to pick one of the closets,” Puck says to them. “Figgins has had a couple of the math teachers checking empty classrooms, I heard.”

“I like closets,” Finn says. “They make me feel that... remembering-feeling thing.”

“Nostalgia?” Kurt suggests.

“Yeah!” Finn answers. “That!”

“I guess we have survived almost a full year of high school,” Puck says. “Just a couple more months.”

“We’re doing better than surviving, I think,” Kurt says.

“If you include everything, sure, but the classroom part? I’m sticking with surviving, at least for me,” Puck says, shaking his head a little.

Finn laughs. “I like closets, anyway. They’re, you know. Cozy.”

“Cozy’s good.” Puck stops in front one of the supply closets, looking around briefly before reaching behind him to grab a few of Kurt’s fingers and one of Finn’s in the same hand, opening the closet door with the other hand. The three of them slip inside, and Puck waits for the door to mostly shut before flipping on the light switch. “Oh, fuck!”

Puckerman?” Santana yelps. “What the fuck?”

“I could say the same!” Puck retorts, staring at Santana and Brittany, who were definitely making out when the light flickered on.

“Hi!” Brittany says brightly. “This is so nice, we get to see you even though we didn’t sit with you at lunch!”

“Britt, shut it,” Santana hisses at Brittany. She turns back to Puck. “You didn’t see anything! Now get out!”

“Wow,” Finn says. “Are you two gay, too?”

“An entire closet-full. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry at the irony,” Kurt muses.

“I think it’s pretty damn funny,” Puck admits with a snort. “Isn’t five enough that we can tell people it’s an official club or something?”

“Just get out,” Santana orders. “Don’t you dare tell anyone anything.”

“What are we going to tell people, Lopez?” Puck asks. “That we caught two Cheerios making out while we were looking for an empty closet for our gay threesome?”

“That sounds like one of those talk shows my mom likes to watch,” Finn says.

“Wait a minute. Gay threesome?” Santana asks Puck. She turns her head and narrows her eyes at Finn. “Gay too?”

“Well, yeah. Duh,” Finn answers. “We’re in the same closet as you.”

“Literally and figuratively,” Kurt adds.

“This is my favorite closet, the one near the science wing smells like nail polish remover,” Brittany says, mostly looking at Kurt. “And then my uniform will smell like it all day.”

“Did you think we just randomly went around to sit in closets?” Puck asks.

“All three of you, though? Seriously?” Santana asks.

“Sometimes just two of us at a time,” Finn says.

“A lot of the time it’s all three of us, though, yeah,” Puck says. “It’s not that complicated.”

“I didn’t mean are all three of you together, perv,” Santana says, looking mildly disgusted by the idea. “I meant are all three of you gay, but obviously the answer is yes.”

Puck smirks at the look on Santana’s face. “Yeah, we’re all fond of dicks.”

“Ew,” Santana says, shuddering. “Okay, so you’re not going to out me, because I can out you, right? That’s how it’s going to work?”

“And ‘cause we’re not complete jackasses,” Puck points out.

“I don’t know about that. You’ve been jackasses for most of the—oh. Yeah, I guess that does make sense now,” Santana says. “Poor Quinn.”

“Nah, that was just being assholes,” Puck says, grinning a little. “And yeah, Quinn’s not exactly going to get far with Finn here.”

“And unlike me and Brittany, she’ll never know why. So sad for her.”

“You could just include her,” Puck suggests. “Three’s worked out pretty good for us.” He turns to the side and grins at Finn and then Kurt.

“McKinley and it’s big gay threeways?” Santana asks. “Not sure Quinn’ll go for that, but maybe Britt can convince her.”

“Could be a better team name than Titans. Threeways.” Puck shrugs. “Accurate during football season, anyway.”

“So are we finding another closet?” Finn asks. “We’re kinda using up our time.”

“Guess so. Stupid math teachers checking classrooms,” Puck says, sighing. “Have fun, girls.”

“We will,” Brittany says, and Puck holds back a laugh as he opens the door and the three of them go back into the hall.

“Well, that was different,” Puck says. “Any closet preferences?”

“One without lesbians in it would be ideal,” Kurt suggests.

“Guess that explains a lot. One lesbian-less closet, though, I think we can manage,” Puck says, laughing a little as they go down the hall. “Sorry, though, Finn.”

“Why?” Finn asks.

“I think Quinn’s going to be slightly harder to get rid of.”