Title: That's Why

Disclaimer: …No me gusta, I don't own Glee

So…yep. This has been the bane of my writing for…a couple days—requested by Ray—pain in my ass to write, but I quite like how it turned out!

Summary: It was silent for all of two minutes before Puck nudged Kurt gently. "Hm?" Kurt looked over, eyebrows raised. Sharing a smile, Puck playfully nudged Kurt again. "So…I've got feelings for someone," he said seriously.


It was a normal day, a normal afternoon during the summer, and a normal occurrence. Well, now it was normal—a year prior it would not have been, but now it was. Kurt twisted the wrench, leaning over the truck's engine and trying to find what was wrong with it, while Puck leaned against the grill, unceremoniously unhelpful.

"You know, instead of standing there, it would be nice to get some input," he said with a raised eyebrow, mouth twitching up on one side.

"Aw, dude, you got this,—the only thing I know how to do—thanks to you and your old man—is change a tire and almost completely change the oil," Puck replied with an easy grin.

"Don't you have other people to bug…you know, like Finn?"

"Finn's off with Rach—you know that—they've been attached at the hip forever now," Puck replied.


"Asian camp."


"Pro'lly with Cedes—they think they're all secretive and shit, but we all know what's going on the D-L,"

Kurt chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Artie?"

"Can't remember—either looking for Brittany and San, or at Science camp," Puck scratched at his jaw thoughtfully, "Started with Sss, anyhow," he added, turning so he was facing the engine as well, arms bracing him and hands clamped together as he watched Kurt's skillful hands maneuver around the engine.

"Any of the girls?"

"They are definitely not as fun to hang out with," Puck grinned.

Kurt flushed, looking steadfast back at the engine. "Well, I suppose I can say the same about you,"

"What, that I'm fun, or that I'm not as fun as the girls?" Puck continued giving Kurt his shit eating grin, causing Kurt to snort in amusement, and mutter something along the lines of 'whatever you want', and he was back to twisting the wrench, and pulling at a plug.



Kurt stood from under the hood of the truck, eyebrows up in interest. "Oh?"

"Yeah…they have no clue, and I wanna know how to…tell them," he motioned with his hands. "How do you s'pose I do that?" he asked when Kurt tilted his head to the side, seeming thoughtful.

"Ever thought of just saying it?" he asked, scratching at his cheek and leaving a smudge of oil.

Puck smiled slightly at that, looking away briefly and shrugging. "They wouldn't be interested," he said, standing.

"No—c'mon—tell me her name,"

Puck glanced at him, looking away again with a frown. "I…it's…" after a brief pause, he sighed and ran a hand over his mohawk. "It's not a girl."

Kurt stopped. Frozen over the hood of the truck, he turned back slowly to stare at Puck. "…What?"

"It's a boy…" he ran a hand over his mohawk again and shook his head. "Forget it, Kurt—he'd never be interested, anyways,"

"Why? You're hot," They stared at one another. "I mean—you're an attractive guy…man…guy-man,"

"My sister made me watch that…" Puck smiled slightly and shook his head. "Nah—sorry, this is pro'lly awkward as hell for you, I'll just be quiet and wait for you to finish checking the engine," he moved back and sat on a stool, hands laced together.

Kurt rolled his eyes before turning back to the engine, looking for the source of the problem. "I say go for it—if he rejects you, you can always just laugh it off and pretend you were joking. Like 'oh—ha ha…totally kidding—you think that gay kid will fall for it?' and just be all macho man, and stuff—its okay, I'd understand," Kurt said as he reached his hand deep down to twist a loose screw.

"Nah, I'd never do that to you," Puck shook his head quickly, stretching his legs out. "Seriously," he added when Kurt made a noncommittal sound. "You're awesome, I wouldn't do that crap to you—well, I wouldn't anymore," he said when Kurt continued with his work.

It was silent for a few more minutes before Kurt resurfaced, wiping at the sweat on his forehead, smearing a stripe of oil across it. "Well, thank you…now…here is what I would do—first, be nice to him if you aren't—second," he stopped to think about it, "Maybe bring him a coffee, at work, or something? I mean—that seems a bit…gay…but, yeah."

Puck stared at him for the longest time, vividly remembering that morning, where he brought a non-fat mocha to Kurt. Seriously? He thought, head tilted.

Kurt thought about it some more, leaning against the grill of the truck with pursed lips. "Again, after he's comfortable around you—if he's not completely already—tell him,"

Puck shook himself out of his confusion, snorting derisively at the advice. "If I told him, he'd think I was crazy, or going through a phase, cause I'm bi, or whatever,"

"He would not," Kurt rolled his eyes, dropping his arms to his sides. "C'mon—you're handsome, charming, funny, and more intelligent than you let on—and on top of that, you're a great performer—that's always a super bonus for people," he gave Puck a side grin, eyebrows raising as he tried rousing a smile from Puck.

"Thanks," Puck had smiled slightly, shrugging and tapping his fingers against his knee, he still seemed unsure.

"Now, come-come—tell me who the lucky guy is," Kurt said crisply, grabbing a nearby grease rag and wiping his hands.


Kurt glared at Puck. "Come on! I just gave you advice on how to get into his good books, and to tell him how you feel, why can't you tell me who it is?" he asked as he turned back to the truck, figuring he'd finish work while Puck floundered for an answer.

"Cause…" Puck looked at the clock, noting the time he had with the other boy dwindling down with every tick. He glared at it, willing time to slow as he slid from the stool. The faster time went, he knew the mechanic would be in the arms of the dapper hobbit, sooner.

Kurt, oblivious to Puck's movements, muttered, "That's not a legitimate reason, Puck, and you know it,"

"It's legit enough for me," Puck replied, brushing Kurt's back as he walked to Kurt's bag. Digging in the bag and ignoring Kurt's indignant reprimand, he surfaced with a couple moist towelette-things, walking forward and taking Kurt's chin gently. "I…can't…" he wiped along Kurt's cheek, gently rubbing the spot with the pad of his thumb. "Tell you…who…" he continued rubbing the spot until it was free of grime. "Not right now, at least…" he whispered, tilting Kurt's face downwards slightly and rubbing at the line across Kurt's forehead.

Kurt's voice stalled briefly at the soft contact. "Why not?"

Puck remained silent, continuing to wipe at the oil, subconsciously staring down into Kurt's eyes as he thought. As he opened his mouth, the bell chimed from the front door, and Blaine's cheery voice called out. Stepping back, Puck held out the towelette and went to gather his things. "That's why," he plastered a smile onto his face as Blaine walked into the back. "Yo, hobbit?"

Blaine smiled indulgently, "Puck."

Puck rolled his eyes, gripping his jacket. Kurt licked his lips slightly, smiling at Blaine and giving him a chaste peck to the cheek. "Blaine, you're early," he said, holding the towelette with something akin to reverence.

"Well…only by a minute, really…" Blaine replied. "If I do say so myself, you look…" he looked over Kurt briefly, "Manly," he flashed a brilliant smile.

Kurt gave Blaine a half smile, glancing towards Puck and smiling again.

"Totally, dude—ya look all macho and shit," Puck said, gripping the used towelette in his fist. "Pro'lly look better in your usu' clothes, though," he added, throwing his jacket over his shoulder. "I'll see ya later, or something," he added, ducking out the side door, rather than the front.

Blaine watched him, head tilted. "So, what were you two doing?" he asked, smiling at Kurt.

Kurt shrugged, "He came to hang out, and I was fixing up this truck," he motioned to the prone Chevy, giving Blaine an impish smile and walking around him. "I'll be right out…I've got to change."

Blaine nodded, his eyes bright, "I'll wait out front so your dad doesn't think anything is going on," he said with a wink, causing Kurt to laugh briefly.

His dad had little to nothing to worry about, as told by Burt himself. To quote his dad, "I have nothing to worry 'bout—that kid is too naïve and oblivious, even if he's the one who told me he knew 'bout sex." He shook his head and walked to the back room, stripping the coveralls off, and pulling on his Burberry jacket. Smoothing his pants, he held the warm towelette in his hand. Walking out to the front, he grabbed his bag on the way and started wiping at his forehead with mirror in hand.

"You clean up good," Blaine said brightly.

"Thank you," Kurt replied good-naturedly, fixing his hair as they left the garage, him calling a quick goodbye to his dad.

Half an hour later found them seated at Breadstix, across from each other, Kurt's hands under the table, still twisting at the now-used towelette. He mulled over Puck's behavior, the gentle caress of fingers against his face, the confession to liking someone, and the refusal to share who. He looked up at Blaine, who was chattering animatedly about his audition for 6 Flags, "That's why."

Blaine looked up from him taking a drink of his water. "Sorry, what?"

Kurt stared hard at the table, his eyebrows pulling together as he thought. "Hypothetically, if…well, say—if there were a boy—a boy who is bisexual, or pansexual—something of the sort—tells you he likes you—what would you say?"

Blaine seemed thoughtful as he mulled over the answer, cradling his face in his hand as he thought about his answer. This is what Kurt appreciated about Blaine—he took questions seriously when need be. "Hypothetically—do I have feelings for this boy?"

Kurt thought it over. Thought to the time he and Puck had spent together, how comfortable they were joking around with one another and all the silences they shared, that weren't awkward, but merely comfortable—it also was nice that Puck would bring a mocha from the Lima Bean on his way over. It was definitely a nice touch that Puck had all the things he named off when trying to cheer the football player up. He chewed his lip briefly, turning to find Blaine smiling at him fondly. "Hypothetically…it's very easy to see yourself falling for him, but you're not entirely sure, and he also…" He trailed off to think, "And he also makes you feel special, in some odd way, and…he makes you feel things…"

Blaine nodded his head at the answer. "Hypothetically—do you enter this equation, as my boyfriend, still?"

Kurt bit his lip, clenching his eyes shut and nodding quickly.

Blaine let out a hum of thought. "Well…hypothetically—how are my feelings towards you?" he asked.

Kurt could tell Blaine already knew that this wasn't hypothetical at all, and the only thing was that it was the reverse situation for them. He treaded carefully. "Your feelings for me…aren't as passionate as they should be…and…" he met Blaine's eyes, "It's more of a friend-love, than…lover-love…" he said softly.

Blaine gave him a sad smile, he himself looking at the table. "Well…personally, I would tell you, exactly this," he took Kurt's hand, staring at him in the eyes. "I love you, Kurt New Directions." Kurt choked out a laugh, "But, it's not the romantic-love…the passion we share is that of music, and friendship, and being there for each other in our hardest times. The kisses we've shared were amazing, but the fact that we can take things slowly definitely shows something missing—the want to touch is not there, as it should be. Even if you aren't the most sexual being—we're teenage boys…we should want to be all up on each other," Kurt giggled again, still smiling at Blaine. "I…could also very well fall for my new garage-dwelling friend, with the mohawk, Puck. He is a good guy, treats me well, and also makes me feel alive and filled with want." Their gazes met, Blaine smiling gently.

Kurt gave him a wobbly smile, staring at the table and slowly letting go of Blaine's hands. "That obvious, huh?"

"I know your dad thinks I'm oblivious, but…" Blaine trailed off, taking a sip of his water and calming his breathing, "You Hummel men aren't very…" he met Kurt's eyes, coaxing a smile, "You guys wear your hearts on your sleeves," he said with a small laugh.

Kurt chuckled, pulling the towelette from his lap and twisting it nervously. "Is it sad I kept this?"

"Yes, very—quite creepy," Blaine answered straight away, brows set seriously.

Kurt chuckled, reaching across the table and smacking Blaine's shoulder. "Shut up, you," He twisted it once more in his hands. "What should I do?"

"Well, since I broke up with you-," Kurt glared at him briefly, "I think it's very well that you text him, since you are so very hurt, and needing a good cuddle to get over this traumatizing,"


"Yes, a dashing young gent, such as myself, dumping you—very traumatizing for a first boyfriend," Blaine sipped his water, letting out a happy sound at his pasta being placed in front of him.

Kurt shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes and digging his phone out of his pocket. Pulling up Puck's name, he frowned, changing it to Noah, and then staring at the touch screen. "What should I say?"

"We broke up."


"Very informative," Blaine finished. "It's not pointing fingers who did what, and it was amicable," he shrugged, spinning his fork in the strands of linguini.

Kurt frowned, typing out the very brief message, and then setting his phone down to eat his pasta.


Noah stared at the screen to his phone, blinking slowly.

We broke up.

What did it mean? Did it mean Kurt wanted to be with him? Was Kurt still oblivious and this was just a thing you told a good friend to cry on their shoulder—not that he was complaining, really—?

He sat in his room, in silence, thinking over what it could mean.

It took him all of an hour to reply.



Kurt cringed at the spelling, showing Blaine as they sat in his room, poring over magazines. "What does he mean, 'what'?"

Blaine snapped his fingers. "Damn, he's not the brightest, is he?" Blaine received a smack to the arm. "Tell him…" he dropped his head back, seeming thoughtful. "Tell him to come over…when he gets here, you can kiss him,—jocks usually get the hint when that happens, don't they?"

Kurt sighed loudly, "You're just as confused about this as me, aren't you?" he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, of course I am," Blaine retorted, shaking the pages of the Vogue noisily, mockingly angry. Kurt rolled his eyes, tapping out a quick message.


Come over, right now, please?

Puck stared at the message, eyes squinting in thought.



Kurt nodded slowly, standing and walking towards the door. A knot was beginning to form in his stomach—what if Noah hadn't actually meant him? What if he was only reading into things?

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked, eyes travelling from the model on the page, to Kurt.

"Waiting downstairs," Kurt's voice shook, despite his best to calm himself.

"Oh," Blaine stood as well, "I wanna come!" he walked around the bed quickly, still holding the magazine. "I'll distract your dad and Finn, if they're not distracted by the TV, and you can lay one on Puck," Kurt chuckled, rolling his eyes and walking out of the room, sitting at the foot of the stairs. "So, when Puck-,"

"Noah," Kurt corrected.

"So, when Noah comes—you'll go answer the door, and I'll go into the living room and ask your brother and dad about my singing in this one song—it will be the song I used to audition,"

Kurt grinned at him in an amused way. "Very well,"

Carole stopped from her trek to the living room, from the kitchen, and looked at the two boys, sitting on the stairs with their faces in their hands, staring at the front door. "Hello…?"

"Hey," they chorused, eyes not leaving the door.

"Mind telling me what you two are doing? she asked, eyebrows rose in question.

"Kurt's waiting for Noah, so they can make out, and be all sexy, and I'm going to watch,"

"Correction—I'm going to tell Noah I like him, too, and Blaine will be distracting dad and Finn, so they don't freak out," Kurt replied, having reached behind him to smack Blaine, while Blaine smothered a laugh.

"Alright…" Carole continued looking confused. "Noah—as in Puckerman?"

"Yes," Kurt nodded sagely. "He said he liked me, and I like him, so…" he shrugged.

"And I dumped Kurt!" Blaine said happily, only to be smacked around the head.

"Hush, you,"

"Well, that is…news," Carole patted Kurt's shoulder, walking into the living room with a bowl of popcorn, Blaine almost standing from his perch to follow her. Kurt grabbed the back of his pajamas, and pulled him back down to sit.

Doorbell ringing, Blaine went to the living room, happy as a clam. Kurt called that he had it, and nervously shuffled to the door, opening it and stepping out into the warm night. "Hey…" he breathed.

Noah smiled softly. "Hey,"

"I…well…we broke up,"

Nodding, Noah glanced at the front window in confusion as Blaine started singing. "Do I want to know?"

Kurt smiled, looking at his bare feet. "He's distracting my dad and Finn,"

"Ah," Noah nodded in understanding. "And…they need distracting because…?"

Kurt gulped, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Noah's in a chaste manner, face blazing. Noah hadn't moved, or tried reciprocating the kiss. "I…sorry…I-," he shrugged, "I should have asked if I was the one you were talking about," he said quickly, as Noah remained frozen to the steps. "I mean—there could have been so many other people, but I assumed-mmph!"

He was cut off as a warm hand wrapped around the base of his neck, pulling him forward again, and soft lips pressed against his. Then the other arm wrapped around his waist securely, and he melted. Wrapping his arms around Noah's neck to keep himself up, he returned the kiss steadily, lips opening at Noah's gentle swipe of tongue, moaning softly as he gripped the short hairs of Noah's mohawk. Hand moving from his neck, it cradled his cheek and he was quickly losing it.

His lips burned, and he felt the small knot in his stomach loosen and dissolve as he continued kissing Noah, finally pulling back when the need for air became dire. As he let out huffing breaths, he looked the other in the eye and licked his sensitive lips, smiling slightly.

Noah grinned brilliantly, thumb stroking against his face, "You have no idea how much I wanted to do that," he whispered.