PROMPT: puckurt, season 4 compliant-ish, where Puck moves to New York to be the Pucker Man and Kurt finds him?
Puck was just stepping out onto the sidewalk, grocery bag in hand, when someone knocked into him, nearly pushing him right over. His bag of groceries fell to the sidewalk as he flailed for a second trying not to lose his footing. He took a step back for stability, hands instinctively reaching out to grab the shoulders of the other person to keep them from falling on top of him.
“I am so sorry,” breathed out a soft voice in exclamation. “I wasn’t looking, I’m really sor… Puck?”
Puck couldn’t help but grin broadly. Of all the people in all of New York, he had been plowed into by Kurt Hummel.
“Dude, you should have stayed in football,” said Puck, laughing. “We could have used you.”
Kurt let out a surprised laugh before wincing as if he just noticed Puck’s food scattered at their feet. It was in serious danger of being kicked and stepped on by passersby. Puck was grateful that Kurt was quick to shove his phone into his coat pick and help pick up the food.
“I really am sorry,” Kurt said as he worked.
“Eh, whatever,” answered Puck wryly. “It wasn’t like I was planning on eating this shit anyway.” He smirked at Kurt's wince. Honestly, the grocery spill was worth it if it meant meeting a familiar face. After high school, Puck had quickly learned he was a lot more 'small town' that he had thought.
“What are you doing in New York?” asked Kurt once they had finished salvaging Puck’s purchases. “I thought you were in Los Angeles or San Francisco.”
“Apparently,” started Puck, pulling his refilled cloth grocery bag up onto his shoulder as they both straightened, “some well-meaning, moron of a teacher sent in a bunch of applications to colleges in my name.”
“There seemed to be a lot of that going around last year,” muttered Kurt.
“Yeah, well, the whole LA scene wasn’t really my thing after all,” said Puck, shrugging, “and since I got accepted into this college here in NYC, I thought maybe I’d give it a try. I start in the new year.”
“That’s amazing, Puck!” exclaimed Kurt. “What school?”
“Uh, I forget,” answered Puck, furrowing his brow in thought. He chose to ignore the incredulous look Kurt was shooting him. “Manhattan something.”
“Well,” said Kurt, seemingly at least partially mollified by that, “that’s really great. I’m excited to see another familiar face; we need to keep in touch. Is your cell the same number as before?”
“Yep,” answered Puck.
“Great! I really need to run, but it was so good to see you and I’ll text you later, okay?” said Kurt in a rush of words before he was patting Puck’s shoulder and speed-walking away.
Puck watched him go feeling gobsmacked by the entire run-in, but mostly by the true confidence in which Kurt held himself (not the feinted confidence he hid behind back in high school) and how well he seemed to fit into the New York scenery –their disaster of a run-in aside. Puck grinned to himself once Kurt had disappeared into the crowd, cell phone already at his ear again, his fitted trench coat swaying in the breeze, and brown satchel knocking against his side as he walked. Kurt had finally found his home.
Kurt kept his promise, sending Puck a text that very evening. They messaged back and forth, catching up on each other’s lives. Puck learned that Kurt was living with Rachel which he called him crazy for, and Puck shared with Kurt that he wanted to write songs. Over the next couple weeks, it turned into a habit for them to text each other a number of times each day. Sending little comments and jokes back and forth, asking questions, sharing tidbits about their day. It was nice to have each other for a friend.
Puck quickly learned that Kurt was kept busy with his job at Vogue, keeping Rachel with every freak-out she had over every minuscule thing happening in her life, and getting a performance ready for his audition to NYADA. Puck was busy, too. He had two jobs, one at a pub down the street (one half was a restaurant and the other a bar which was a great because that technicality allowed him to work on the bar side even while under 21), and one at the convenience store across the street from his apartment.
Because of their conflicting schedules, they never actually saw each other in person again until three weeks later when there was a knock at Puck’s apartment door at a quarter past midnight. Puck was half-asleep, sprawled out on his dinky little hideaway bed watching reruns of shitty sitcoms in just his briefs and black tank top when he heard the knock. Brow furrowing, he got up and groggily made his way to his door. When he looked through the peephole, it was to find Kurt. He slid the locks over and opened the door.
“Kurt?” he asked, voice a little rough from disuse. “What’s up, man?”
“Hi… uh, I’m sorry it’s so late,” said Kurt, sounding breathless with nerves. He was shuffling on his feet anxiously and had a duffle bag in one hand. “I would have been here sooner but the address I wrote down on paper was smudged and I guessed that it said Sheridan instead of Sherman.”
“You just come from the gym?” asked Puck in confusion as he eyed the bag in Kurt’s hand.
Kurt’s cheeks pinked just slightly and he shook his head while smiling an embarrassed smile that looked more like a grimace. Puck felt like he was missing something.
“No, um…” said Kurt haltingly. “You didn’t get my text?”
Puck glanced over at the kitchen counter to his right to where his phone was charging.
“I should have known better to come without getting a reply,” sighed Kurt. “I’m sorry, I’ll just—”
“What’s going on, Kurt?” cut in Puck, suddenly getting with the program.
“Rachel and I had a little… disagreement about how to be a considerate roommate,” said Kurt. “I was hoping I could borrow your couch for the night.”
“Oh, uh,” said Puck, feeling immediately bad, “Well, I mean, you definitely can stay here if you want, but…”
“Shit,” gasped Kurt. “You have a girl over, I’m sorry, I’ll just go!”
“Why would you think that I… never mind, no I just meant…” Puck trailed off as he pulled his door open wider so Kurt could see into his apartment.
Puck lived in a tiny studio apartment. One wall had a counter, sink, mini stove, slim refrigerator, and a few cupboards. There was a closet on the other side of the room with a little bathroom next to it. In the center of the room was his hideaway bed, as well as a beat up, old dresser with a flat screen TV perched on top. Puck grinned in embarrassment. New York might be the city of opportunity, but it was also the land of super expensive real estate.
“Oh,” said Kurt, “Well.”
“You can definitely borrow my couch tonight, dude,” said Puck, stepping to the side to let Kurt enter his tiny apartment, “but you’re gonna have to share.”
Originally posted here