I have no idea where this came from. :) But I like the idea. You should say hi in a review, like a christmas present. :)

Puck hasn't gone soft.

He's still hardcore; he still has a mohawk.

He's not Finn, with his gooey marshmallow center, which is why he's carrying out his mission in the dead of night, instead of making some kind of stupid stand.

"... Puck?" a confused voice from behind him says, and Puck wants to put the drill in his hand to his temple. By dead of night, he meant dead of six thirty, but apparently Finn Hudson failed to get the "it's not cool to come in to school more than ten minutes early" memo that Puck had been banking on. "What are you doing?"

Puck tried to hide the drill behind his back inconspicuously. It's hard to do with power tools, but Finn's more than a little oblivious. "What does it look like," he scoffs, and for a moment holds the hope that Finn will make some kind of suggestion, and he can just agree with it.

After a second, his hopes plummet. Finn isn't known for coming up with ideas. "I'm working out."

... Did Puck just say that?

"On top of the dumpster?"

To Puck's credit, he does have on his sweats. "Uh, yeah. The smell is ... like, the smell of failure or weakness or something like that." So metaphors aren't his strong suit. He leaves those to Rachel.

And Finn keeps staring at him, and then he kind of smiles, and they've been best friends again for a while, even though his girlfriend is having Pucks baby, and, screw it, Finn already sort of knows. Puck holds a new screw from the box against the lid, and picks up the drill, and Finn doesn't even laugh at him like a real man would, because he's the gayest, most feeling-having straight man Puck's ever met, so his eyes just go all soft and he just smiles.

"Need some help?"

Finn would have made a stand. Puck knows this, because he seriously, seriously likes glee, and he hasn't been afraid to say it since he first pulled Artie out of his portable bathroom prison at the start of the year (and yeah, looking back, not Puck's crowning moment of awesome, he knows) when he first joined the stupid club. Finn would tell the other guys to go screw themselves, and please unhand his gay soprano, we need him in top preforming shape.

And even though they've (sort-of) rubbed off on him and he'd almost (in an off-handed, casual way) call them friends. (Almost.) It doesn't mean he's become a pansy.

He may not lead them by example anymore, but he's not about to put his rep on the line so that Queer Eye can have his Mark Jacob's smell like fresh flowers and he can have people snickering about what he does in his spare time, because Puck's fostered a lot of rumors that weren't true (Like when the guys saw him wink at Sylvester and assumed he was getting some special treatment, he sure didn't shoot down the idea that he'd boldly been where no man'd gone before, because you'd have to have balls of steel, and seriously, he does ... just, not when it comes to Sue Sylvester. He's sane, okay?) but he's not done with guys looking over their shoulder at him like they did at Kurt while he was on the team. Seriously. Gross.

So he's the one out here in the wee hours of the morning, when the sky is still stupidly dark, and the moon's sort of still out, drilling the lid of the dumpster shut. He tells Finn he's got it under control, and Finn walks past him into the school, to do whatever he's arranged to come early for, and just as he hops down, sort of sweaty, wiping his hands on his jeans, and putting his drill in his bag, he's back.

Finn is Puck's best friend, and yeah, he screwed up, but honestly, he means a lot to him. Not that he'd ever, like, use his words to say that. Seriously, though, it doesn't still doesn't keep him from thinking of Finn as a big stupid puppy, sometimes. (Which is a perfect metaphor. Take that, Rachel Berry.)

He comes lumbering back, grinning like some kind of idiot, and follows him as he walks in the school, like he's herding her.

"Shut up," Puck says.

"You so totally like him," Finn replies, like some six year old girl. And then, "Wow, did you just do that backwards?"

"Preemptive strike, retard," Puck says. He's always been a man of few words. "And, no. But ... he's a teammate."

"Was." Finn corrects, still grinning. What is Puck going to have to do, beat his face in?

"My other team," Puck snips, and Finn can laugh if he wants, but he's won more with glee in the last six months than the last two years on the football team. And screw it, he likes glee. And he kind of likes having friends who care about him, and he kind of likes Berry, even though she's seriously insane, and, he's learned from he numerous bouts of being interim director, a slave driver. And Kurt's a good guy, even though Puck's a little bit glad he's quit the football team so he's not naked in the same place with him three times a week anymore.

Finn nods, smiling. "Good for you, Puck."

Sometimes, when people get that look in their eyes (teachers, girls, his little sister) he wants to say something, do something that'll remind them who his is (His name is Puck, he has a mohawk, and he's not the kind of guy you want to bring home to mommy. He isn't even nice.) but Finn's known him too long. (He had to use his words and say I'm sorry to him three months ago, and if that isn't brohood, he doesn't know what is.)

And he knows Finn wants to know why he'd been doing this today, as opposed to any other day, and the real answer is I just thought of it last night -- not because he was tossing and turning thinking about or something gay like that, just an idea I had. Instead, Puck still kind of sneers when he says, "No one needs to go to their own ball smelling like trash."

(And then wonders for a second how they ever doubted that there'd be a GayLez Ball, because when Berry gets an idea into her head...)

After school, Puck plans on acting as surprised as the rest of the guys. He follows them to their usual place, even though mostly they don't invite him anymore, now that he's (kind of, sort of) a gleek, because it would be conspicuous if he didn't. Also, it's a "special occasion."

When he gets there, there's a single guy waiting there with him. Keeping him there.

Kurt looks panicked and is already furiously struggling out of his favorite jacket (and Puck kind of gained some respect for the kid when he started paying attention to what he worried about and realized that he's only got, like two of them. He mentioned this to Finn one time, when he was buzzed, and Finn asked Kurt about it, and he'd blushingly told Finn about "key pieces." Whatever that meant.) and Puck kind of tenses up in futile anger, but keeps calm because he reminds himself that they can't toss him today.

Finn shows up as they're tugging on the lid, seriously confused, and Kurt looks so relieved that Puck almost thinks he's going to step behind him like a kid hiding behind his dad. Like he knows he's safe.

Puck finds himself inexplicably irritated.

He doesn't know why. This is exactly what he wanted to happen.

Except, he's a stud and he rules this stupid school, and he happens to think Glee is cool. And Kurt is ... okay. A pretty nice guy, even if he's a fairy. And nobody gets to tell Noah Puckerman what to do.

When the guys erupt into confusion of why the hell the dumpster is screwed shut, and Kurt's looking at Finn the way Rachel Berry does, all grateful and soft. Finn's kind of smiling at him, because he knows Hummel's not getting tossed, and he won't even have to say anything.

Puck twists like he's cracking his neck to catch his eyes, which immediately harden, but not much.

"You're welcome," he says, casually, because he can't blame him. He's Puck. He has a mohawk. He's not even nice.

Finn blinks at him like he's grown an extra head. Kurt looks like he's grown two. He doesn't even look at the other guys, but he's figuring out how long it's going to take to get to his truck, because it's about to hit the fan.

In for a penny, he thinks; an expression he hasn't quite understood until now.

"Need a ride home, Hummel?"