fic: looking for adventure: puck/kurt
Title: Looking for Adventure (1/1)
Series: Music Is What Feelings Sound Like
Pairing: Puck/Kurt (so getting there)
Rating: PG.
Fandom: Glee
Summary: The aftermath of the dream.
Disclaimer: Very much not mine, sadly.
Notes: This has been in my head for a couple of days, right after I realized that Kurt knew something about cars. It would have been written before, but Kurt had to have his dream first. I guess it’s a good thing, cause it got them somewhere. The song for this one is Born to be Wild. Enjoy!!
Past stories in this series: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home | Giving off Sparks | Love is Friendship Set on Fire | Hard Habit to Break | Worn Out Faces | Where Do We Go Now | You Arrested My Mind | As We Combust
Kurt avoided Puck for a few days after the dream. He didn't want to, but every time he saw Puck, he imagined that wicked bloody grin, with the sharpened fangs of a vampire. That, of course, led to Kurt's mind shifting into overdrive. He always turned and ran to the bathroom (or some other quiet place he could hide from Puck) so he could try to clear his mind and not get aroused. Erections at school were so inconvenient and embarrassing.
Kurt realized, in his self-induced avoidance of Puck, that he was kind of lonely. They had developed this strange friendship that no one understood (most of all him), but it was something special. Something different. Kurt and Mercedes were tight, but Puck opened his eyes to other things. Different music, sports - things that Kurt had never been interested in before. Puck expanded his horizons, and Kurt appreciated that.
Plus, there was the added bonus of learning some of his dad's songs. One day at the garage, a classic rock song came on the radio and Kurt started singing along. His dad was so shocked, when he raised his head, he hit it on the underside of the hood. "Dad, dad," Kurt said, hurrying over to his father, reaching up to touch his head. His father had a cap on, but Kurt was determined to make sure there was no blood. "Are you okay?"
"You know that song?"
Kurt blinked, listened to the song. "Yeah, my friend Puck made a mix for me, it was on there." He thought about that, and then clarified it quickly; he wasn't ready to have the is this a boy you are dating conversation. Especially when they were no where near dating, nor would Puck ever be interested in such. "He's in the glee club, and one of the football players. The guy with the mohawk." His dad had been to enough of the games that he had to know who Puck was. "He wants to make sure I know more than just show tunes and Lady GaGa." There was something about the look of pride that entered his father's expression at that moment that made Kurt's insides squirm with joy. After that, Kurt would definitely listen to anything Puck gave him.
So Kurt was avoiding Puck. He wondered if the other teenager noticed or not. He figured not, since Puck didn't seem to want to hunt him down. Kurt was fine with that. He knew that Puck had other things going on. He'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt his feelings; Kurt was hyperaware of Puck and knew when he was being avoided, but Kurt didn't expect Puck to be the same way.
He was shuffling through his locker, humming under his breath. It was Tuesday afternoon and the last bell had rang. Kurt didn't have glee or football practice, and not much homework, so he had the afternoon to himself. To say he was looking forward to it was an understatement. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he was going to be by himself.
When he shut the locker door, he jumped back slightly. Puck was leaning against the lockers, watching Kurt, apparently waiting for him to shut the locker. "Puck," he said, insides twisting. He couldn't run from this, and he couldn't help but imagine the bright shock of copper on Puck's lips.
"You've been avoiding me, Hummel," he said, crossing his arms. "Why?"
"I-" Kurt faltered. He hated to falter. He was Kurt Hummel. He was fabulous. He had all the confidence in the world, and there was no reason for him to falter. Squaring his shoulders back and raising his chin, he looked Puck in the eye. "I've had other things to do."
Kurt thought he saw a flash of pain in Puck's eyes at that, but he knew it was just his hopeful imagination - it disappeared as soon as it showed up. It was ridiculous of Kurt to think that Puck would actually be hurt by that statement.
"Well, you're spending the afternoon with me," Puck said, grabbing Kurt's bicep and pulling him away from the lockers.
Kurt stumbled after Puck, trying to catch up. He tugged on his arm, but the grip was tighter than Kurt could get out of. "Puck, wait - what? I'm spending the afternoon with you?"
"Yeah," Puck said, squeezing Kurt's arm painfully for a moment.
Kurt went quiet at that; he knew Puck meant business. He shifted his backpack and dutifully followed Puck, even though he had no idea where they were going, or what was going through Puck's mind at this moment.
They got in Puck's truck, and Kurt twitched when Puck turned it on. The radio was blaring, far louder than Kurt expected it to be. "Sorry," Puck said, reaching out to turn it down a bit. Boooooorn to be Wiiiiild spilled from the speakers, and Kurt tilted his head, wondering what song it was. It sounded like something his dad would like.
"What is this?" he asked curiously.
Puck glanced at Kurt. "Born To Be Wild, by Steppenwolf. Old band, but really good. I think this actually came out at the end of the sixties, beginning of the seventies."
Kurt closed his eyes, listened to the words. Get your motor runnin', head out on the highway. Looking for adventure, in whatever comes our way. Yeah, darlin', gonna make it happen, take the world in a love embrace. Fire all of your guns at once, and explode into space. He opened his mouth to say something, anything - this song made his heart race a bit, made him want to take chances, do something wild.
He turned to look at Puck, thought about doing something out of character for him, when he realized Puck's truck was idling rough. "Something's wrong with your truck," Kurt said, as he realized just how much the idle was making the truck shudder.
"Yeah," Puck sighed. "It's been doing this for a couple of days. Sometimes it ..." Puck stopped, trying to figure out how to explain it. "When I accelerate, it doesn't seem to kick in quite yet."
"Hesitates?" Kurt supplied. He was sure it was probably the spark plugs, which would be an easy fix.
Puck nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, something like that. I've been meaning to take it in to get looked at, but it always takes my mechanic forever to get to it."
"You don't use Hummel's, do you?" Kurt asked. "Over on 34th?" He was proud of his father and the work he did, and hated hearing when he got so behind that people had to wait longer than necessary for their cars.
Shaking his head, Puck pulled the truck into reverse, pulling out of the parking spot. "Nah, we use McWilliams." Kurt made a face; that guy always ripped his customers off. "Wait, did you say Hummel's? Your dad?"
Kurt nodded, completely aware of the pride on his face. "Yes, he has a garage. Come on, if you want to head over there, we can look at it. I bet it'll be an easy and possibly quick fix."
Puck looked doubtful, but it was obvious that he'd decided to at least try. "Tell me how to get there."
Five minutes later, they were pulling into the parking lot of his dad's garage. Burt Hummel looked up from underneath the hood of a car, smiled in the way that Burt Hummel smiled, which meant a slightly relaxed mouth and not quite so narrow of a set of eyes. Kurt beamed, though; he felt he and his father had gotten so much closer since he won the football game, since he came out, since his father had stood up for him to sing 'Defying Gravity.' "Dad!" He shut the passenger door of Puck's truck. "Come on, Puck." He crossed the parking lot and walked into the garage that gave him an overwhelming sense of home like not much did - which Kurt knew would surprise anyone.
"Hey, Kurt, how was school?" Kurt could tell his father was eyeing Puck. It warmed Kurt to his toes to know how much his father watched out for him.
"It was good, thanks, Dad. This is Puck, my friend I was telling you about on the football team and the glee club?"
Burt Hummel cracked a slight smile, extending his hand. "You're the boy who's introducing my son to real music. Thank you." It was a joke, and Kurt took it as such, knowing that his father wasn't saying anything in particular about his choice of music.
"Uh," Puck said, sounding startled, glancing at Kurt. "Yeah, I am, I guess."
Kurt thought it'd be time to change the subject; he didn't want to really tell Puck that he had talked about him to his dad, even if it was harmless. "Dad," Kurt said. "Something's wrong with Puck's truck. Do you care if I bring it in?"
Burt glanced around, and then nodded. There was plenty of room in the garage to bring the truck in. "Sure, Kurt, if you want."
"Thanks, Dad!" He turned to Puck, smirking as he held his hand out. "Keys, please."
Puck's eyebrow arched, but he handed Kurt the keys. "If you hit something..."
Rolling his eyes, Kurt didn't even dignify that with a response. He spun on his heel and walked out of the garage to move Puck's truck in. A few minutes later, he was climbing out of the truck, landed with both feet on the concrete floor. Puck went to Kurt, frowning. "Kurt, your dad looks really busy. I don't want to take him away from work."
Kurt's eyebrow rose. "He isn't going to be looking at your truck. I am."
"You?" Puck laughed, then cleared his throat. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. But you? Hummel, seriously."
Kurt's eyes narrowed and he cocked his hip, hand on it. "I will have you know," he said, in the most haughty voice he could, "I grew up working on cars with my father. I can do basic repairs." He huffed. If he had long hair, he would have slung it in irritation.
Puck blinked at that. "Oh. Okay then." Kurt could hear the disbelief in him. "If you can, then, go on."
"I have to put on my coveralls." Kurt was irrationally irritated now; he hated the fact that Puck didn't believe him. "Pop the hood and I will fix it." He turned, but stopped when Puck reached out, grabbing his arm. "What?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at Puck.
"Coveralls to protect your clothes?" Puck asked. Kurt nodded. "Do you care if you get anything on your jeans?"
"I shouldn't," Kurt said. "Not with the repairs I need to do. I just need to take off my sweater. It's Gucci." His pants were dark skinny jeans; he wasn't as worried about getting anything on them. The sweater; however - Kurt would die if he got grease on it.
"Just take it off," Puck said, pulling his own plaid over shirt off. Kurt smiled, eyes trailing over Puck's chest. He was wearing a tight white wife beater that stretched over his muscles, and Kurt had to look away so he wouldn't stare. "Here," Puck murmured quietly. Kurt glanced to Puck's hand, blinking in surprise. Puck was offering his shirt.
Kurt chewed the inside of his cheek, then tugged his sweater off. He had a shirt on underneath it, just a plain white tee-shirt. He folded his sweater neatly, handing it to Puck as he took the plaid button up. "Put that in the truck please, and be gentle. It was four hundred dollars." Kurt hid the smile at Puck's surprised look down at the sweater.
Pulling on the over shirt, Kurt had to close his eyes. It smelled like he imagined Puck would, and Kurt was overwhelmed with it. The shirt was too big for him, but he felt so comfortable in it - it smelled like Puck and was softer than almost anything that he owned. Kurt ached to keep it, even though he knew that wouldn't happen. Clearing his throat, he buttoned the shirt. He hated how it made him feel like a school girl wearing her guy's oversized sweater.
"Thanks," he said quietly as he went to the truck. Puck nodded, opening the door to put the sweater down on the seat (Kurt was pleased to see how gentle he was) and to pop the hood.
Kurt leaned over the engine block of the truck and got to work. He enjoyed the vantage he had; he could look up under his lashes and watch Puck as the other teenager stood there in his wife beater. Kurt would enjoy that vision of him for a long time to come.
It didn't take long for him to identify the bad spark plugs and replace them. He finally stood back, wiping his greasy hands. He had been very careful not to get anything on Puck's shirt, and had managed not to that he could tell. "Okay, Puck," Kurt said. "Try that."
Puck still looked kind of doubtful, to which Kurt rolled his eyes. He got in the truck and started it.
The engine purred like a kitten.
Puck got out of the truck, a look of astonishment on his face. "Kurt, that was - I don't even -" Puck shook his head.
Kurt smirked at that, waving his hand toward Puck, brushing it off. "I'm amazing at everything I do; you should know that by now, Puck. Shame on you for not believing me." Kurt would never attempt to try something that he wasn't completely and 100% comfortable in doing. "Let me go wash my hands and we can go."
Nodding, Puck smiled. "Thanks, Kurt. I'm going to go talk to your dad about paying him."
Kurt returned the nod, heading to the bathroom to wash his hands. He knew his father wouldn't make Puck pay for anything.
~*~
Just as Kurt figured, Puck hadn't had to pay for the repairs to his truck. Kurt was pleased; he hadn't wanted to charge his friend for them. Puck did buy him dinner though, wanting to do something for Kurt. They sat in the cab of his truck and ate burgers, listening to music. Kurt was still wearing Puck's shirt, having decided he wouldn't give it back until Puck asked.
Kurt was surprised that Puck hadn't asked yet.
They finally pulled up to Kurt's house, and Puck smiled at Kurt. "Thanks again for the truck repairs."
"No problem," Kurt replied. "You shouldn't take your truck to McWilliams though, he's a rip off. Bring it to Dad. He won't overcharge you, and he'll make sure you get your car repaired right, the first time."
Puck nodded. "Or maybe I'll just get you to fix it. That was pretty impressive, watching you under my hood." And Kurt could feel it; he had noticed that there was a newfound respect there that Kurt hadn't felt from Puck before.
"Well," Kurt said, ducking his head slightly. He was glad it was kind of dark and Puck wouldn't see the blush. "I grew up in that garage; I learned a lot of stuff."
There was a flash of a smile. "Well, thank you." Puck was quiet for a long moment. "Hey, Hummel," he said, his voice softer. "I don't know what's going on in your head, but stop avoiding me, okay? I don't like it."
Kurt's heart was pounding at those words as he looked up at Puck. Something twisted in his chest at the sound of Puck's voice; something twisted and Kurt suddenly felt the intense urge to do something. He pictured a bloody grin in his mind's eye again, and his heart started pounding hard.
born to be wild
Kurt surged forward, grabbing Puck's shoulder. He kissed Puck hard, teeth clanging together, noses hitting, dry lips pressing together. It was an awkward, and extremely quick, first kiss. And Kurt wasn't even sure if it could be a kiss; Puck hadn't returned it. For that matter, Puck hadn't even moved.
Pulling back, faster than strictly necessary, enough to press his body against the passenger door, Kurt looked at Puck. He expected anger, or something; instead he saw a deer in the headlights look, wide scared eyes that Kurt couldn't read if he wanted to.
"I... I gotta go," Kurt said, words rushing together. He turned, fumbled with the door, hoping against hope that Puck would stop him (and not want to kick his ass).
It didn't happen though. Puck didn't say a word as Kurt opened the truck door.
Kurt didn't look back as he slipped out, slammed the door, and ran up to his house.
.end.
Series: Music Is What Feelings Sound Like
Pairing: Puck/Kurt (so getting there)
Rating: PG.
Fandom: Glee
Summary: The aftermath of the dream.
Disclaimer: Very much not mine, sadly.
Notes: This has been in my head for a couple of days, right after I realized that Kurt knew something about cars. It would have been written before, but Kurt had to have his dream first. I guess it’s a good thing, cause it got them somewhere. The song for this one is Born to be Wild. Enjoy!!
Past stories in this series: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home | Giving off Sparks | Love is Friendship Set on Fire | Hard Habit to Break | Worn Out Faces | Where Do We Go Now | You Arrested My Mind | As We Combust
Kurt avoided Puck for a few days after the dream. He didn't want to, but every time he saw Puck, he imagined that wicked bloody grin, with the sharpened fangs of a vampire. That, of course, led to Kurt's mind shifting into overdrive. He always turned and ran to the bathroom (or some other quiet place he could hide from Puck) so he could try to clear his mind and not get aroused. Erections at school were so inconvenient and embarrassing.
Kurt realized, in his self-induced avoidance of Puck, that he was kind of lonely. They had developed this strange friendship that no one understood (most of all him), but it was something special. Something different. Kurt and Mercedes were tight, but Puck opened his eyes to other things. Different music, sports - things that Kurt had never been interested in before. Puck expanded his horizons, and Kurt appreciated that.
Plus, there was the added bonus of learning some of his dad's songs. One day at the garage, a classic rock song came on the radio and Kurt started singing along. His dad was so shocked, when he raised his head, he hit it on the underside of the hood. "Dad, dad," Kurt said, hurrying over to his father, reaching up to touch his head. His father had a cap on, but Kurt was determined to make sure there was no blood. "Are you okay?"
"You know that song?"
Kurt blinked, listened to the song. "Yeah, my friend Puck made a mix for me, it was on there." He thought about that, and then clarified it quickly; he wasn't ready to have the is this a boy you are dating conversation. Especially when they were no where near dating, nor would Puck ever be interested in such. "He's in the glee club, and one of the football players. The guy with the mohawk." His dad had been to enough of the games that he had to know who Puck was. "He wants to make sure I know more than just show tunes and Lady GaGa." There was something about the look of pride that entered his father's expression at that moment that made Kurt's insides squirm with joy. After that, Kurt would definitely listen to anything Puck gave him.
So Kurt was avoiding Puck. He wondered if the other teenager noticed or not. He figured not, since Puck didn't seem to want to hunt him down. Kurt was fine with that. He knew that Puck had other things going on. He'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt his feelings; Kurt was hyperaware of Puck and knew when he was being avoided, but Kurt didn't expect Puck to be the same way.
He was shuffling through his locker, humming under his breath. It was Tuesday afternoon and the last bell had rang. Kurt didn't have glee or football practice, and not much homework, so he had the afternoon to himself. To say he was looking forward to it was an understatement. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he was going to be by himself.
When he shut the locker door, he jumped back slightly. Puck was leaning against the lockers, watching Kurt, apparently waiting for him to shut the locker. "Puck," he said, insides twisting. He couldn't run from this, and he couldn't help but imagine the bright shock of copper on Puck's lips.
"You've been avoiding me, Hummel," he said, crossing his arms. "Why?"
"I-" Kurt faltered. He hated to falter. He was Kurt Hummel. He was fabulous. He had all the confidence in the world, and there was no reason for him to falter. Squaring his shoulders back and raising his chin, he looked Puck in the eye. "I've had other things to do."
Kurt thought he saw a flash of pain in Puck's eyes at that, but he knew it was just his hopeful imagination - it disappeared as soon as it showed up. It was ridiculous of Kurt to think that Puck would actually be hurt by that statement.
"Well, you're spending the afternoon with me," Puck said, grabbing Kurt's bicep and pulling him away from the lockers.
Kurt stumbled after Puck, trying to catch up. He tugged on his arm, but the grip was tighter than Kurt could get out of. "Puck, wait - what? I'm spending the afternoon with you?"
"Yeah," Puck said, squeezing Kurt's arm painfully for a moment.
Kurt went quiet at that; he knew Puck meant business. He shifted his backpack and dutifully followed Puck, even though he had no idea where they were going, or what was going through Puck's mind at this moment.
They got in Puck's truck, and Kurt twitched when Puck turned it on. The radio was blaring, far louder than Kurt expected it to be. "Sorry," Puck said, reaching out to turn it down a bit. Boooooorn to be Wiiiiild spilled from the speakers, and Kurt tilted his head, wondering what song it was. It sounded like something his dad would like.
"What is this?" he asked curiously.
Puck glanced at Kurt. "Born To Be Wild, by Steppenwolf. Old band, but really good. I think this actually came out at the end of the sixties, beginning of the seventies."
Kurt closed his eyes, listened to the words. Get your motor runnin', head out on the highway. Looking for adventure, in whatever comes our way. Yeah, darlin', gonna make it happen, take the world in a love embrace. Fire all of your guns at once, and explode into space. He opened his mouth to say something, anything - this song made his heart race a bit, made him want to take chances, do something wild.
He turned to look at Puck, thought about doing something out of character for him, when he realized Puck's truck was idling rough. "Something's wrong with your truck," Kurt said, as he realized just how much the idle was making the truck shudder.
"Yeah," Puck sighed. "It's been doing this for a couple of days. Sometimes it ..." Puck stopped, trying to figure out how to explain it. "When I accelerate, it doesn't seem to kick in quite yet."
"Hesitates?" Kurt supplied. He was sure it was probably the spark plugs, which would be an easy fix.
Puck nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, something like that. I've been meaning to take it in to get looked at, but it always takes my mechanic forever to get to it."
"You don't use Hummel's, do you?" Kurt asked. "Over on 34th?" He was proud of his father and the work he did, and hated hearing when he got so behind that people had to wait longer than necessary for their cars.
Shaking his head, Puck pulled the truck into reverse, pulling out of the parking spot. "Nah, we use McWilliams." Kurt made a face; that guy always ripped his customers off. "Wait, did you say Hummel's? Your dad?"
Kurt nodded, completely aware of the pride on his face. "Yes, he has a garage. Come on, if you want to head over there, we can look at it. I bet it'll be an easy and possibly quick fix."
Puck looked doubtful, but it was obvious that he'd decided to at least try. "Tell me how to get there."
Five minutes later, they were pulling into the parking lot of his dad's garage. Burt Hummel looked up from underneath the hood of a car, smiled in the way that Burt Hummel smiled, which meant a slightly relaxed mouth and not quite so narrow of a set of eyes. Kurt beamed, though; he felt he and his father had gotten so much closer since he won the football game, since he came out, since his father had stood up for him to sing 'Defying Gravity.' "Dad!" He shut the passenger door of Puck's truck. "Come on, Puck." He crossed the parking lot and walked into the garage that gave him an overwhelming sense of home like not much did - which Kurt knew would surprise anyone.
"Hey, Kurt, how was school?" Kurt could tell his father was eyeing Puck. It warmed Kurt to his toes to know how much his father watched out for him.
"It was good, thanks, Dad. This is Puck, my friend I was telling you about on the football team and the glee club?"
Burt Hummel cracked a slight smile, extending his hand. "You're the boy who's introducing my son to real music. Thank you." It was a joke, and Kurt took it as such, knowing that his father wasn't saying anything in particular about his choice of music.
"Uh," Puck said, sounding startled, glancing at Kurt. "Yeah, I am, I guess."
Kurt thought it'd be time to change the subject; he didn't want to really tell Puck that he had talked about him to his dad, even if it was harmless. "Dad," Kurt said. "Something's wrong with Puck's truck. Do you care if I bring it in?"
Burt glanced around, and then nodded. There was plenty of room in the garage to bring the truck in. "Sure, Kurt, if you want."
"Thanks, Dad!" He turned to Puck, smirking as he held his hand out. "Keys, please."
Puck's eyebrow arched, but he handed Kurt the keys. "If you hit something..."
Rolling his eyes, Kurt didn't even dignify that with a response. He spun on his heel and walked out of the garage to move Puck's truck in. A few minutes later, he was climbing out of the truck, landed with both feet on the concrete floor. Puck went to Kurt, frowning. "Kurt, your dad looks really busy. I don't want to take him away from work."
Kurt's eyebrow rose. "He isn't going to be looking at your truck. I am."
"You?" Puck laughed, then cleared his throat. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. But you? Hummel, seriously."
Kurt's eyes narrowed and he cocked his hip, hand on it. "I will have you know," he said, in the most haughty voice he could, "I grew up working on cars with my father. I can do basic repairs." He huffed. If he had long hair, he would have slung it in irritation.
Puck blinked at that. "Oh. Okay then." Kurt could hear the disbelief in him. "If you can, then, go on."
"I have to put on my coveralls." Kurt was irrationally irritated now; he hated the fact that Puck didn't believe him. "Pop the hood and I will fix it." He turned, but stopped when Puck reached out, grabbing his arm. "What?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at Puck.
"Coveralls to protect your clothes?" Puck asked. Kurt nodded. "Do you care if you get anything on your jeans?"
"I shouldn't," Kurt said. "Not with the repairs I need to do. I just need to take off my sweater. It's Gucci." His pants were dark skinny jeans; he wasn't as worried about getting anything on them. The sweater; however - Kurt would die if he got grease on it.
"Just take it off," Puck said, pulling his own plaid over shirt off. Kurt smiled, eyes trailing over Puck's chest. He was wearing a tight white wife beater that stretched over his muscles, and Kurt had to look away so he wouldn't stare. "Here," Puck murmured quietly. Kurt glanced to Puck's hand, blinking in surprise. Puck was offering his shirt.
Kurt chewed the inside of his cheek, then tugged his sweater off. He had a shirt on underneath it, just a plain white tee-shirt. He folded his sweater neatly, handing it to Puck as he took the plaid button up. "Put that in the truck please, and be gentle. It was four hundred dollars." Kurt hid the smile at Puck's surprised look down at the sweater.
Pulling on the over shirt, Kurt had to close his eyes. It smelled like he imagined Puck would, and Kurt was overwhelmed with it. The shirt was too big for him, but he felt so comfortable in it - it smelled like Puck and was softer than almost anything that he owned. Kurt ached to keep it, even though he knew that wouldn't happen. Clearing his throat, he buttoned the shirt. He hated how it made him feel like a school girl wearing her guy's oversized sweater.
"Thanks," he said quietly as he went to the truck. Puck nodded, opening the door to put the sweater down on the seat (Kurt was pleased to see how gentle he was) and to pop the hood.
Kurt leaned over the engine block of the truck and got to work. He enjoyed the vantage he had; he could look up under his lashes and watch Puck as the other teenager stood there in his wife beater. Kurt would enjoy that vision of him for a long time to come.
It didn't take long for him to identify the bad spark plugs and replace them. He finally stood back, wiping his greasy hands. He had been very careful not to get anything on Puck's shirt, and had managed not to that he could tell. "Okay, Puck," Kurt said. "Try that."
Puck still looked kind of doubtful, to which Kurt rolled his eyes. He got in the truck and started it.
The engine purred like a kitten.
Puck got out of the truck, a look of astonishment on his face. "Kurt, that was - I don't even -" Puck shook his head.
Kurt smirked at that, waving his hand toward Puck, brushing it off. "I'm amazing at everything I do; you should know that by now, Puck. Shame on you for not believing me." Kurt would never attempt to try something that he wasn't completely and 100% comfortable in doing. "Let me go wash my hands and we can go."
Nodding, Puck smiled. "Thanks, Kurt. I'm going to go talk to your dad about paying him."
Kurt returned the nod, heading to the bathroom to wash his hands. He knew his father wouldn't make Puck pay for anything.
~*~
Just as Kurt figured, Puck hadn't had to pay for the repairs to his truck. Kurt was pleased; he hadn't wanted to charge his friend for them. Puck did buy him dinner though, wanting to do something for Kurt. They sat in the cab of his truck and ate burgers, listening to music. Kurt was still wearing Puck's shirt, having decided he wouldn't give it back until Puck asked.
Kurt was surprised that Puck hadn't asked yet.
They finally pulled up to Kurt's house, and Puck smiled at Kurt. "Thanks again for the truck repairs."
"No problem," Kurt replied. "You shouldn't take your truck to McWilliams though, he's a rip off. Bring it to Dad. He won't overcharge you, and he'll make sure you get your car repaired right, the first time."
Puck nodded. "Or maybe I'll just get you to fix it. That was pretty impressive, watching you under my hood." And Kurt could feel it; he had noticed that there was a newfound respect there that Kurt hadn't felt from Puck before.
"Well," Kurt said, ducking his head slightly. He was glad it was kind of dark and Puck wouldn't see the blush. "I grew up in that garage; I learned a lot of stuff."
There was a flash of a smile. "Well, thank you." Puck was quiet for a long moment. "Hey, Hummel," he said, his voice softer. "I don't know what's going on in your head, but stop avoiding me, okay? I don't like it."
Kurt's heart was pounding at those words as he looked up at Puck. Something twisted in his chest at the sound of Puck's voice; something twisted and Kurt suddenly felt the intense urge to do something. He pictured a bloody grin in his mind's eye again, and his heart started pounding hard.
born to be wild
Kurt surged forward, grabbing Puck's shoulder. He kissed Puck hard, teeth clanging together, noses hitting, dry lips pressing together. It was an awkward, and extremely quick, first kiss. And Kurt wasn't even sure if it could be a kiss; Puck hadn't returned it. For that matter, Puck hadn't even moved.
Pulling back, faster than strictly necessary, enough to press his body against the passenger door, Kurt looked at Puck. He expected anger, or something; instead he saw a deer in the headlights look, wide scared eyes that Kurt couldn't read if he wanted to.
"I... I gotta go," Kurt said, words rushing together. He turned, fumbled with the door, hoping against hope that Puck would stop him (and not want to kick his ass).
It didn't happen though. Puck didn't say a word as Kurt opened the truck door.
Kurt didn't look back as he slipped out, slammed the door, and ran up to his house.
.end.