Title: More Than Whiskey in Mind

Author: wolfelements

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Kurt/Puck

Rating: PG-13

schmoop_bingo Card Prompt: drunken confession of love

Summary: Kurt made a noise of protest when Puck's heavier body draped half on top of his. He should have known Puck would take advantage of the moment.

Warnings/Spoilers/Notes: Contains teen drinking. No spoilers! This is my first Glee fanfic. I totally blame my mom for putting this pairing in my head (yes, you heard that right, my mom insists they're perfect for each other). Title from "Whiskey in Mind" by Christian Kane. I honestly couldn't think of a title.

He was drunk. Kurt was perfectly aware of this, what with his inability to even walk down a hallway without hitting the wall with his shoulder, as though the wall kept jumping in his way. He took a moment to press his hands against it, feeling the smooth surface and trying to keep his legs from giving out on him. Yes, he was very drunk indeed.

He turned with the intention of heading back downstairs to where his friends were, but he immediately collided with a solid mass that turned out to be a body. Blinking away the haze that was filling his vision, Kurt looked up at the face of Noah Puckerman. Strong arms reached out to grasp his shoulders in order to keep him from falling.

"You are really drunk." Puck sounded amused, which was to be expected.

"I'm perfectly aware of this, thank you," Kurt replied.

"Only you would be able to talk like that while drunk," is all Puck says in reply before he's pulling Kurt through a door and shuffling him back until he falls onto the bed.

Kurt would have protested, probably. Maybe. Instead he glanced around to make sure they weren't in Santana's room, because he had a feeling he knew what was about to happen and he didn't think even he could hide the expression on his face if she said something about messed up bedsheets on Monday. He was relieved to see that it looked like a guest room and figured Puck must have known, what with the other boy's history with Santana.

He draped back against the bed, enjoying the soft surface underneath him. He suddenly felt calm and serene and, really, what was the harm in falling asleep for a while?

"Oh, no you don't," Puck chuckled, climbing onto the bed.

Kurt made a noise of protest when Puck's heavier body draped half on top of his. He should have known Puck would take advantage of the moment. "What if someone walks in?"

"I'll kick their ass," Puck replied, before kissing him.

He remembered the first time Puck ever kissed him. He had been pulling himself out of the dumpster, cataloging the various damage done to his outfit, when strong hands started to assist him. He had originally thought it was Finn, because heaven only knew that it wasn't a teacher. They had stopped noticing the morning dumpster ritual after the second week of ninth grade.

He's shocked to look up into Puck's eyes when he finally found his footing and he's even more shocked when Puck pressed him up against the side of the dumpster, the slight impact causing the metal to vibrate. "What-?"

"Sorry," Puck mumbled, before leaning down and pressing their lips together.

Puck never found out that that had been his first kiss. Kurt was certain he'd never tell him.

Four days later, Puck repeated his actions. And so it went. Kurt could never figure out what started it, he just knew that he had to keep their...well, it certainly wasn't a relationship, but whatever it was had to stay quiet. He managed to not look at Puck in the months that followed, unless it was to roll his eyes as some asinine comment, and he was pretty certain Puck had been doing the same.

They never went farther than kissing, of course. Kurt was pretty sure that Puck was convincing himself that he was kissing a girl. Oddly, Kurt didn't mind. He got to make out with an admittedly hot guy which helped calm his teenage hormones for a short period. That's what he told himself at any rate. He could get by thinking that if he ignored the flutter in his chest when Puck glanced his way, a flutter that mimicked and then surpassed what he once felt for Finn, then they could continue in this silent dance and Kurt would never have to face his feelings.

They kissed for a while before Puck's hands start to wander, sliding underneath his shirt. He'd done that before, so Kurt wasn't worried. Oddly, he trusted Puck in a way he'd never thought possible. He didn't start to tense until Puck's clever fingers unbutton his pants.

"Umm," Kurt hummed out, pulling his head away. Puck attacked his neck and for a moment Kurt is just moaning, hips arching upward.

"Yeah, baby, like that," Puck whispered against his ear.

"Puck...Noah," Kurt stammered, utterly horrified at how the alcohol in his system is making his voice slur and words catch in his throat. He fumbled ungracefully until he managed to get out from underneath the larger boy. Puck rolled to his side and gave him an annoyed look. "I'm drunk."

"Yeah," Puck said slowly, "I noticed."

"Stop trying to take advantage," Kurt snapped. His actions at the moment were the complete opposite of what he said, seeing how he rolled closer to Puck and curled up against his chest. He could almost feel Puck roll his eyes. "I'm trying to decide if I should throw up or not."

"It might make you feel better," Puck offered. There was a moment of silence. "Do I need to get you water?"

"Like you actually care," Kurt said, raising his head to glare, only to regret the motion as it made the room spin.

"Hey, I can be a caring dude!" Puck protested, not hiding the hint of amusement in his voice.

"If I didn't love you so much, I'd really hate you right now." Kurt paused. "No, actually, I take that back. I hate you regardless."

It took him about one minute to notice the shocked look on Puck's face. He tried to recall what he just said, but the attempt failed him. Instead he just groaned in drunken misery and pressed his face against Puck's chest.

The first time Puck fell asleep in his bed, Kurt had immediately woken him up and kicked him out. They had been practicing for Glee, or so that's what everyone outside that bedroom believed. In actuality they had been kissing, with Puck pressing Kurt into the mattress, one calloused finger slipping under Kurt's shirt to stroke the soft skin of his hip.

Kurt hadn't felt bad about literally pushing Puck off his bed in order to wake him. In fact, he'd laughed.

He hadn't been surprised to find Puck amongst the jocks when he was thrown in the dumpster the next morning. Some part of him accepted that as retaliation. He still talked Puck into buying him a new scarf, albeit a cheap one from Wal-Mart, but he felt that considering Puck's lack of fashion and funds that was the best he was going to get. He never wore it, of course.

Well, okay, he wore it on the weekends when he worked in the garage with his father. Thankfully his father never commented.

The second time Puck fell asleep in his bed, Kurt watched him for all of forty-five minutes and then he proceeded to kick him out again. He did it gently this time and was saved a dumpster toss the next morning.

The third and fourth time his father had walked in on him with his hand on a sleeping Puck's shoulder. He'd pulled his hand away as fast as he could, but knew his father had seen. His father had proceeded to speak in a loud enough voice that Puck had woke up. Kurt had managed not laugh at the boy's look of horror when he saw Burt Hummel standing by the bed.

The fifth time, Kurt gave into temptation and curled up next to Puck. They slept for an hour and Kurt woke up to Puck's arms wrapped around him and dark eyes watching him sleep.

"You really have had too much if you're spouting lies like that, Hummel," Puck said. Kurt stayed quiet, eyes closed, enjoying the rumble in Puck's chest as he talked. "You better not expect me to return the favor in saying that."

Kurt pressed closer to him. "Saying what?"

"You know damn well what you said," Puck growled.

He didn't bother to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine at the sound of Puck's growl. There was something so masculine and, well, erotic in the way Puck's voice would drop. Kurt gave into temptation and nuzzled Puck's jaw. "Not really. I must admit that in my drunken stupor I have forgotten. I apologize. I hope it wasn't too important."

Puck had a habit of twisting Kurt's words around and using them in his favor. Kurt had already been aware of this before they started their...whatever it was that they were doing.

Before it had been applied to coming up with the latest excuse to hurt Kurt, be it with a dumpster dive, a slushie, or the occasional physical attack. Now, Puck used it to get Kurt to agree to things he probably wouldn't have before. Like the first time Puck got him to let Puck into his home, his sanctuary. Or the time that Kurt had said something, he couldn't really remember what, that had implied they were in a true relationship. Puck had fumbled Kurt's words around so badly that in the end, Kurt wasn't sure which one of them protested the idea more.

In all likelihood they had only been quiet for about ten minutes, but Kurt felt like it had been days. He kissed Puck's jaw and tightened his hold on Puck's shirt, trying to give Puck a silent signal that they could get back to making out. Kurt's small moment of panic and desire to vomit was gone. He could almost feel himself sobering.

Well, not really, but Kurt told himself he was getting sober anyway. It made what he did next seem like it was more his honest decision than alcohol talking.

Puck made a noise in the back of his throat when Kurt undid his belt and slipped his hand into Puck's jeans, which were just lose enough to accommodate Kurt's slender hand. Even in his alcohol induced state, Kurt was aware enough to keep his hand between Puck's jeans and underwear. He wasn't quite ready to go that far.

"Oh, fuck," Puck breathed against his ear, causing Kurt to shiver. He felt wetness along the tender skin just behind his ear and recognized it as Puck's tongue, which made him groan. And, although Kurt couldn't understand why, Puck started talking. It took him a moment to ignore the growing hardness pressed against his palm and actually listen. "-and I'm not a fucking fag, but you're kind of different. I don't really get it myself, but hey, I'm a bad ass. If anyone can get away with dating the fairy queen then it's me."

Kurt groaned again, this time in frustration. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm just, uh, saying," Puck said, eyes darting around the room, before landing on Kurt's face. "Ikindofloveyoutoo. But if you tell anyone, I'll stop distracting the others from dumpster tossing you. Got it?"

Kurt flashed back to his own words earlier. Huh. So that had been what he had said. He blushed bright red and pressed his face against Puck's chest once more, just to compose himself.

He had known, of course, that he had fallen in love with one Noah Puckerman. Kurt wasn't stupid and liked to think himself at least somewhat self-aware.

He realized it one evening when Puck was attempting to teach him how to play a video game. Kurt really couldn't get into it, seeing how the game had called for no form of strategy at all and was merely the kind where you mashed buttons and prayed for the best. Kurt's brain was far too advanced to lower himself to just pressing buttons.

He had sighed and was considering throwing the remote control in annoyance when Puck had scooted closer, almost slipping behind him, and covered Kurt's hands with his own in order to show him how to properly button mash. Kurt's heart leaped into his throat and his entire body tingled. It wasn't just his hormones reacting to Puck's soft spoken tutorial or the gentle why Puck was guiding his fingers. He could feel everything and even his brain was falling into synch with his body and emotions.

He was in love with Noah Puckerman. He was in love with the guy he made out with and who was, slowly, becoming an actual friend. Because let's face it, a person didn't take the time to teach someone how to play a video game when they were just a fuck buddy used to pass the time in a small, boring town.

"What does that mean?" Kurt asked.

"You don't know what love means?" Puck asked, clearly being sarcastic.

"Not that, you utter imbecile," Kurt snapped. He was definitely sobering up now. He pulled his hand from Puck's pants, ignoring Puck's protest. "If I can't tell anyone you love me then how are we supposed to date? That is what you said, isn't it? I distinctly heard something about dating."

"I was hoping you didn't catch that," Puck admitted.

"I hate you," Kurt informed him.

"Yeah," Puck said with a grin. "Wanna go out tomorrow night if you're hang over isn't too bad? We can see the new zombie movie."

"I'm not watching a bunch of blood and gore with you," Kurt said. "I get enough of that watching you play that Left 4 Dead game. And...well, yes, I suppose that would be alright."

"Cool," Puck replied, before his eyes turned into what Puck probably thought was sensual. Kurt had to admit the expression on the boy's face was indeed hot, but it was hardly sensual. "Now, how about you put your hand back in my pants?"

"Being with you is going to be a romantic adventure, I can already tell," Kurt commented in a monotone. To Puck's dismay, he didn't return his hand to Puck's pants. But they did make out for a while, so Kurt figured Puck was pacified. And if he wasn't, well, that wasn't Kurt's problem.