storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2010-01-19 09:54 am
storypaint) wrote2010-01-19 09:54 am
Entry tags:
[Glee] Technology's a Bitch (Puck/Kurt)
Title: Technology's a Bitch
Fandom: Glee
Length: 1641 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
glee_fluff_meme: Puck/Kurt:
Kurt is unhappy with Puck, mainly because Puck doesn't take their (secret?) relationship seriously enough. [...] One night, while home alone and drunk, Puck proceeds to spill his heart out in a Facebook status[...] He wakes up the next morning only to have a fuckton of comments to his status. His phone rings, and--oh, look! It's Kurt.
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Other: PG for language, drunkenness, sexual themes.
Excerpt: But anyway, it started like this. Puck was alone on a Friday night with a case of beer and the Internet and the occasional creeping thought that he should call Kurt back anyway. And then there was Facebook.
It started like this. Puck was pretty good at getting beer on Friday nights, one way or another. Either he hung around outside until he ran into a football alum who knew him and was willing to bend the law a bit, or he charmed the salesgirls ("You think I look younger than 21? I am so flattered").
So he got a case around eight o'clock and called up the boys, but apparently Matt was grounded for last week's escapade (he'd missed his curfew), and Mike was hanging out with Brittany, and Finn had accidentally flushed his phone or something, because he wasn't answering.
Puck thought about calling Kurt, but Kurt refused to drink after the incident with Miss Pillsbury, and he was having a girls' night or something. At least, when they'd talked earlier there was a lot of giggling in the background, and he didn't think they were comparing his sexual techniques because Kurt was under very strict orders not to tell the other Glee kids what they did when it was just the two of them. Puck had talked himself into the idea that if he didn't tell anyone, then he wasn't gay. Gay people were proud of who they were, right? Puck wasn't proud of his attachment to Kurt. It was something he couldn't resist-- or didn't want to.
So they dated secretly. There were movies in Kurt's basement and making out on the couch and a slow push in the direction of more, because Puck was a man with needs, and it didn't matter if those needs were fulfilled by a man or a woman. (He tried not to think about Kurt's lips wrapped around him, the shocked expression the boy would wear when Puck brought him off, because those things were gay too, wanting Kurt specifically, even if it was true.)
And every time Kurt brought up the idea of coming out, Puck slammed it down. Just because he was a stud it didn't mean he wanted to fight every dumb jock in the school. This wasn't love or something girly like that. It was friendship built on rewatching old Lifetime movies that he'd first seen with his mother, and on discussions of fixing cars, and sometimes studying together if Puck couldn't talk Kurt out of it. The sex stuff was separate. This wasn't a relationship.
But anyway, it started like this. Puck was alone on a Friday night with a case of beer and the Internet and the occasional creeping thought that he should call Kurt back anyway.
And then there was Facebook.
*
Facebook status messages were limited to 420 characters, and even though Puck sucked with punctuation and capitalization, when he hit the limit he decided to make it a Facebook note instead. And because nothing on Facebook was ever easy it took him like ten minutes to figure out how to copy-paste, but then he went again.
He didn't know where all of these words were coming from, but they seemed to pour out of him like water (or like the beer had poured so easily from the can). He was little better than a hunt-and-peck typist, but he kept at it.
--and i dont know why it would be such a big deal really because i am a stud and i can get any chick i want always have. kurt is different tho becuz he s a boy even if he sounds like a girl and i think about him more than anyone except my dauther who quinn wont let me see that bitch i wuld be a good dad. im not scared of coming out but i dont need to. why would it be such a big deal if i wanted to fuck kurt hummle????? it doesnt mean im gay. he just has a cute mouth and i think it would look good on my cock and all guys like bjs, rite? of course im rite. and even if i wanted to hold his hand i am still badass and i can still kick everyones ass even yours kartofsky i wouldnt even sweat. so fuck you all we could be happy without you.
He felt very accomplished when he finally hit the Publish button and then decided to go to bed. His head was pounding and he'd probably have an awful hangover in the morning, but he also had beer for tomorrow night if the guys could hang out then.
It was a measure of how drunk he was that he didn't feel even a moment's regret or uncertainty about his public Facebook note before he fell asleep.
*
He woke up the next day around noon because his stupid phone would not quit ringing. His head felt like someone had spent all night smacking it with rocks, and he had an awful taste in his mouth. He threw the phone against the wall, which stopped it ringing, finally, and then got up and sat down at the computer, blearily deciding to check his email. The nunchucks he'd ordered last week might have shipped, and he was waiting for the notification.
Instead, he found that he had almost 30 messages on a Facebook update he'd made last night. He didn't even remember writing it, and flipping through the responses made him confused.
Rachel said something about how she was proud that he was being himself, which made no sense because he was always himself, but she was always trying weird girl psychology on him. Mercedes had only responded with DAMN in all-caps at first, but then she came back with something about hurting Kurt's feelings, which also made no sense because Puck had even made Kurt promise not to tell her. Had Kurt broke his promise?
Then Puck read the actual note he had written, and his mouth went dry. He read it again. It didn't sound any better that time.
The phone was ringing again and he picked it up and stared at it. He had 25 missed calls from Kurt, and he was going to have 26 if he didn't answer before his ringtone cut off again.
Puck was no coward, but he paused before hitting the "Accept Call" button.
"You misspelled my name," Kurt said flatly, instead of hello.
"Huh?" Puck was taken a little off-guard.
"It's E-L, not L-E," he said, and then breathed heavily into the phone before continuing, speaking so fast that he nearly ran his words together, "did you mean it?"
"Did I mean--" Puck looked back at the computer. "Fuck. I don't know. I guess so." He ran a hand through his hair.
Kurt was silent on the line for a long moment.
"I guess so?" he said finally.
"I was really drunk last night," Puck said.
"Oh," Kurt said, and his tone was cold, then. "I see. We could always say it was a prank, I suppose. I dared you to do it. Or you were just trying to embarrass me."
Puck opened his mouth to agree, because it would really make the most sense, but then he shut it again. "I--" he said, "I didn't mean it like that. I just, I wouldn't have posted it if I were sober."
"I am very aware, Puck," Kurt answered, biting off each word. Kurt only used his nickname instead of his real name when he was really angry at him, like when he forgot and used the word "gay" as an insult or didn't remember who Marc Jacobs was.
"Fuck," Puck said again. "I mean. I meant all that stuff. I think. Except that calling Quinn a bitch was probably a bad idea. Because she's really not going to like me now."
This time it was Kurt's turn to hesitate, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "You want to hold my hand?"
"All the damn time," Puck answered, trying not to be embarrassed and realizing that it was easier than he'd thought.
"That's sweet, Noah."
"Yeah, I know. Like I said, not something I would say sober."
"You just did," Kurt pointed out, a smile in his voice.
"Never again."
"What if I asked you to?"
His tone is a coo, sweet and flirtatious, and Puck smacks himself in the forehead, which earns him a piercing pain behind his eyes.
"I need more sleep," he said to himself.
"All right," Kurt said cheerfully, "but you're coming over for dinner. It's time for you to meet my dad."
"Dude, I've met your dad. He threatened to shoot me the next time I threw you in a dumpster," Puck reminded. The conversation had taken place on only the third or fourth day of high school, but Puck remembered it vividly. Not enough to stop throwing Kurt in dumpsters, but enough to guarantee the safety of Kurt's designer clothes in exchange for not telling.
"He won't even remember you," Kurt answered blithely. "Wear something nice. You have that blue buttonfront from "Don't Stop Believing" still, don't you?"
"That shirt is really gay," Puck muttered.
"Perfect!" Kurt answered. "I'll see you at five. Maybe afterward we can catch a movie."
"I'm picking," Puck said around his headache. Kurt was much too cheerful now that he'd established that Puck actually liked him, and Puck wanted to feel like he was still in charge here. He had the sinking feeling that that wasn't going to last.
"Of course, dear," Kurt answered, hanging up before Puck could protest the nickname. Puck looked at his inbox, which had increased by five messages since the conversation had started, and groaned. He crawled back into bed and lay like a dead man on his stomach, only pausing to set his cell phone alarm for four p.m., just in case.
Fandom: Glee
Length: 1641 words
Prompt:
glee_fluff_meme: Puck/Kurt:Kurt is unhappy with Puck, mainly because Puck doesn't take their (secret?) relationship seriously enough. [...] One night, while home alone and drunk, Puck proceeds to spill his heart out in a Facebook status[...] He wakes up the next morning only to have a fuckton of comments to his status. His phone rings, and--oh, look! It's Kurt.
Pairing: Puck/Kurt
Other: PG for language, drunkenness, sexual themes.
Excerpt: But anyway, it started like this. Puck was alone on a Friday night with a case of beer and the Internet and the occasional creeping thought that he should call Kurt back anyway. And then there was Facebook.
It started like this. Puck was pretty good at getting beer on Friday nights, one way or another. Either he hung around outside until he ran into a football alum who knew him and was willing to bend the law a bit, or he charmed the salesgirls ("You think I look younger than 21? I am so flattered").
So he got a case around eight o'clock and called up the boys, but apparently Matt was grounded for last week's escapade (he'd missed his curfew), and Mike was hanging out with Brittany, and Finn had accidentally flushed his phone or something, because he wasn't answering.
Puck thought about calling Kurt, but Kurt refused to drink after the incident with Miss Pillsbury, and he was having a girls' night or something. At least, when they'd talked earlier there was a lot of giggling in the background, and he didn't think they were comparing his sexual techniques because Kurt was under very strict orders not to tell the other Glee kids what they did when it was just the two of them. Puck had talked himself into the idea that if he didn't tell anyone, then he wasn't gay. Gay people were proud of who they were, right? Puck wasn't proud of his attachment to Kurt. It was something he couldn't resist-- or didn't want to.
So they dated secretly. There were movies in Kurt's basement and making out on the couch and a slow push in the direction of more, because Puck was a man with needs, and it didn't matter if those needs were fulfilled by a man or a woman. (He tried not to think about Kurt's lips wrapped around him, the shocked expression the boy would wear when Puck brought him off, because those things were gay too, wanting Kurt specifically, even if it was true.)
And every time Kurt brought up the idea of coming out, Puck slammed it down. Just because he was a stud it didn't mean he wanted to fight every dumb jock in the school. This wasn't love or something girly like that. It was friendship built on rewatching old Lifetime movies that he'd first seen with his mother, and on discussions of fixing cars, and sometimes studying together if Puck couldn't talk Kurt out of it. The sex stuff was separate. This wasn't a relationship.
But anyway, it started like this. Puck was alone on a Friday night with a case of beer and the Internet and the occasional creeping thought that he should call Kurt back anyway.
And then there was Facebook.
*
Facebook status messages were limited to 420 characters, and even though Puck sucked with punctuation and capitalization, when he hit the limit he decided to make it a Facebook note instead. And because nothing on Facebook was ever easy it took him like ten minutes to figure out how to copy-paste, but then he went again.
He didn't know where all of these words were coming from, but they seemed to pour out of him like water (or like the beer had poured so easily from the can). He was little better than a hunt-and-peck typist, but he kept at it.
--and i dont know why it would be such a big deal really because i am a stud and i can get any chick i want always have. kurt is different tho becuz he s a boy even if he sounds like a girl and i think about him more than anyone except my dauther who quinn wont let me see that bitch i wuld be a good dad. im not scared of coming out but i dont need to. why would it be such a big deal if i wanted to fuck kurt hummle????? it doesnt mean im gay. he just has a cute mouth and i think it would look good on my cock and all guys like bjs, rite? of course im rite. and even if i wanted to hold his hand i am still badass and i can still kick everyones ass even yours kartofsky i wouldnt even sweat. so fuck you all we could be happy without you.
He felt very accomplished when he finally hit the Publish button and then decided to go to bed. His head was pounding and he'd probably have an awful hangover in the morning, but he also had beer for tomorrow night if the guys could hang out then.
It was a measure of how drunk he was that he didn't feel even a moment's regret or uncertainty about his public Facebook note before he fell asleep.
*
He woke up the next day around noon because his stupid phone would not quit ringing. His head felt like someone had spent all night smacking it with rocks, and he had an awful taste in his mouth. He threw the phone against the wall, which stopped it ringing, finally, and then got up and sat down at the computer, blearily deciding to check his email. The nunchucks he'd ordered last week might have shipped, and he was waiting for the notification.
Instead, he found that he had almost 30 messages on a Facebook update he'd made last night. He didn't even remember writing it, and flipping through the responses made him confused.
Rachel said something about how she was proud that he was being himself, which made no sense because he was always himself, but she was always trying weird girl psychology on him. Mercedes had only responded with DAMN in all-caps at first, but then she came back with something about hurting Kurt's feelings, which also made no sense because Puck had even made Kurt promise not to tell her. Had Kurt broke his promise?
Then Puck read the actual note he had written, and his mouth went dry. He read it again. It didn't sound any better that time.
The phone was ringing again and he picked it up and stared at it. He had 25 missed calls from Kurt, and he was going to have 26 if he didn't answer before his ringtone cut off again.
Puck was no coward, but he paused before hitting the "Accept Call" button.
"You misspelled my name," Kurt said flatly, instead of hello.
"Huh?" Puck was taken a little off-guard.
"It's E-L, not L-E," he said, and then breathed heavily into the phone before continuing, speaking so fast that he nearly ran his words together, "did you mean it?"
"Did I mean--" Puck looked back at the computer. "Fuck. I don't know. I guess so." He ran a hand through his hair.
Kurt was silent on the line for a long moment.
"I guess so?" he said finally.
"I was really drunk last night," Puck said.
"Oh," Kurt said, and his tone was cold, then. "I see. We could always say it was a prank, I suppose. I dared you to do it. Or you were just trying to embarrass me."
Puck opened his mouth to agree, because it would really make the most sense, but then he shut it again. "I--" he said, "I didn't mean it like that. I just, I wouldn't have posted it if I were sober."
"I am very aware, Puck," Kurt answered, biting off each word. Kurt only used his nickname instead of his real name when he was really angry at him, like when he forgot and used the word "gay" as an insult or didn't remember who Marc Jacobs was.
"Fuck," Puck said again. "I mean. I meant all that stuff. I think. Except that calling Quinn a bitch was probably a bad idea. Because she's really not going to like me now."
This time it was Kurt's turn to hesitate, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "You want to hold my hand?"
"All the damn time," Puck answered, trying not to be embarrassed and realizing that it was easier than he'd thought.
"That's sweet, Noah."
"Yeah, I know. Like I said, not something I would say sober."
"You just did," Kurt pointed out, a smile in his voice.
"Never again."
"What if I asked you to?"
His tone is a coo, sweet and flirtatious, and Puck smacks himself in the forehead, which earns him a piercing pain behind his eyes.
"I need more sleep," he said to himself.
"All right," Kurt said cheerfully, "but you're coming over for dinner. It's time for you to meet my dad."
"Dude, I've met your dad. He threatened to shoot me the next time I threw you in a dumpster," Puck reminded. The conversation had taken place on only the third or fourth day of high school, but Puck remembered it vividly. Not enough to stop throwing Kurt in dumpsters, but enough to guarantee the safety of Kurt's designer clothes in exchange for not telling.
"He won't even remember you," Kurt answered blithely. "Wear something nice. You have that blue buttonfront from "Don't Stop Believing" still, don't you?"
"That shirt is really gay," Puck muttered.
"Perfect!" Kurt answered. "I'll see you at five. Maybe afterward we can catch a movie."
"I'm picking," Puck said around his headache. Kurt was much too cheerful now that he'd established that Puck actually liked him, and Puck wanted to feel like he was still in charge here. He had the sinking feeling that that wasn't going to last.
"Of course, dear," Kurt answered, hanging up before Puck could protest the nickname. Puck looked at his inbox, which had increased by five messages since the conversation had started, and groaned. He crawled back into bed and lay like a dead man on his stomach, only pausing to set his cell phone alarm for four p.m., just in case.