Disclaimer: I do NOT own rights to any of the characters from Glee. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

***WARNING SERIES TWO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY***

A/N: This is a one-shot that came to me following a comment by a friend (who will know who he is XD) that the comment by Puck about visiting Temple in the "Grilled Cheesus" episode could lead to possible slashy hijinks. Well here's my take on it. Or the beginnings at the very least... I don't do short stories it appears ;D

Burt is in the hospital but he hasn't yet woken up – from that point onwards I'll take the story off in my own direction though I have no real plan.

Enjoy!

"An Unlikely Angel" by The Jellybaby Bandit

Puck had found himself watching the smaller boy now, on a number of different occasions over the last couple of days. He had no idea what had possessed him to do so – maybe it was the boy's red rimmed eyes with the poorly concealed bags under them that caused the warning bells to ring in the half-back's mind.

Or maybe it was the complete lack of response that the brunette had offered to Karofsky and Azimio's taunting at school that afternoon. Kurt had just stood there and taken it with a defeated air about him – something that through everything both he and others had put the kid through in the past he had never seen.

Puck smirked at a sudden flash of memory as he glanced up at the barmaid and saw her blush and look away – Karofsky and Azimio had stood there and taken it too earlier in the day after he had rounded up Finn, Matt and Mike and they'd taught the over opinionated pair a lesson.

'Assholes...'

Finn had asked him then why he cared so much so as to defend Kurt like he was. He didn't know the answer truth be told. He just didn't like seeing the smaller boy in pain – it hurt him in a way – in his chest.

Puck reached up and absently rubbed his chest directly over his heart, though his gaze remained fixed on middle distance.

He'd even badgered his Nana into taking him with her to Temple, so that he could pray for Kurt's Dad who was still in the hospital. He hadn't been to Temple since his early teens and it had been a scary prospect.

Noah Puckerman and organised religion, especially his own religion, had a somewhat sketchy past – ever since he'd fucked the Rabbi's daughter that was. It also didn't help that he'd been caught by the Rabbi himself, with his daughter doing reverse cowgirl on his cock.

'Religion was important...'

That was what his Nana had always said as she tried to persuade him week after week to accompany her to the Synagogue. He'd never believed her to begin with and somehow he didn't think that using religion to meet and fuck chicks was what she had meant. But hey, it was all a matter of interpretation – wasn't it?

It had been a week now though and the elder Hummel had shown no signs of waking. And Puck was beginning to see the signs of strain appearing on the face of the soprano. So he figured he'd go to Temple and he'd pray for Mr Hummel's recovery – it couldn't hurt.

Kurt just looked... fragile.

That was the best word Puck could think of to describe the soprano. Like Kurt was an egg y'know? An egg with a paper-thin shell that would just break apart at the first hint of pressure – Kurt was an egg.

'Kurt's an egg?... Jesus how much have I had to drink?'

Puck lifted his glass of Bourbon to eye level to check that the liquid was still there and that he hadn't accidentally drained the glass already. A full glass looked back at him however disproving his theory that he was shitfaced on a single drink.

'Roofies then?'

The jock snorted in amusement for a second, drawing a curious glance from the barmaid as she wiped down the bar.

The half-back raised the glass to his lips and took a sip, biting back on the instinct to grimace at the sharp taste. Bourbon wasn't really his drink of choice – he'd much have preferred a cold beer. But the barman had caught him off guard when he'd asked for his order without checking his ID and he'd responded with his Dad's usual order before thinking.

At least it was his Dad's order, before he'd skipped bail and disappeared on them five years earlier.

He wasn't really interested in drinking – a weird thought considering who he was – but he just wasn't thirsty. Having a drink in his hand however kept the barman from kicking him out and helped him to blend in with the other patrons, as he kept a careful eye on the brunette sitting morosely at the bar with an Appletini sitting in front of him.

Having had time to think about it, Puck realised that his initial surprise at not being asked for ID shouldn't have been an issue. If Kurt was coming here and getting served without fear of being turned away, then it should have been obvious that they didn't care much for who drank what.

Puck wasn't sure what it was about Kurt's behaviour after Glee club that afternoon that had prompted him to follow the brunette.

But something was just off about the boy's entire demeanour and Puck was curious. And though he'd deny it if anyone ever asked – he was a little concerned.

So as everyone had packed up their bags and all gone their separate ways, each taking a few seconds to commiserate with the soprano, Puck had hung back in the shadows and just watched the boy.

Kurt's posture was slumped and his eyes were dull – usually they sparkled with emotion be it humour, anger or something else entirely – but nowadays they were just empty. As each member of Glee had attempted to comfort the boy Puck found himself getting more and more angry on his behalf.

No amount of 'I'm sorry' or 'Keep your chin up' was going to help Kurt right now. Those kind of hollow platitudes were pointless and of more comfort to the person offering the reassurance. At least they got to feel as if they were being of some use.

Puck noticed something in the brunette that resonated with himself – if he looked hard enough, behind the perfect pale skin, the stylish outfit and disdainful mask – Kurt was just like he had been all those years ago.

'He's lost without his Dad...'

Something about Kurt's manner that afternoon had screamed at Puck to not let the soprano get out of his sight. So when Mr Schue had dismissed them all and as Kurt had picked up his book bag in order to head out in the direction of the parking lot, Puck had followed him – making sure to remain far enough back that he wouldn't be spotted.

Instinct told him that he didn't want Kurt to know he was there.

Puck's curiosity became confusion when instead of heading towards his car, a tall black Lincoln Navigator sitting in its usual spot, Kurt headed off in the opposite direction exiting the school grounds by a side gate.

The half-back trailed the soprano for a good half a block before he lost him. Kurt had crossed at the intersection and Puck was about to follow just as a bus pulled up to the curb blocking Kurt from view.

Puck cursed as he waited for the little old lady and her shopping bags to get off the bus impatiently – it never occurred to him to actually help. Finally as the woman struggled to the bottom of the steps, sending the jock a heated glare for his lack of assistance, the bus pulled away from the curb.

"Where the Hell did he go?"

The street ahead of Puck was straight as an arrow and it wasn't the nicest part of town either – all industrial units and low rent housing. There was nowhere for Kurt to have gone and yet, he wasn't anywhere in sight. Puck crossed the street at a jog hoping to catch a glimpse of brunette hair, a flash of sunlight glinting from one of the metal studs on his Captain's jacket.

Nothing

"Shit!"

Puck's exclamation drew a curious glance from a woman hanging out washing on her balcony, who hurriedly gathered up her things and headed back inside.

'Probably thinks I'd rob her or somethin'...'

Puck walked up and down the short strip of road, trying to decide why he hadn't just given up his pursuit and gone home when he saw it.

There, down a small alleyway was a sign above a door.

'Reggie's... a bar?'

Puck shook his head – Kurt wouldn't have, he wouldn't be seen dead in a dive like that. But then there was nowhere else that he could have gone. Everything else was vacant lots and shitty housing and it was fair to say Kurt didn't know anyone who would live in this part of town.

'Just check... and if he's not there then go home...'

That sounded reasonable. Puck checked over his clothing, glad that he wasn't one of these schmucks that went to a school with a mandatory uniform. Running his hand over his head, Puck momentarily mourned the loss of his mohawk again. Puck had initially wanted to grow his mohawk back, thinking that not having it dented his badass reputation.

However a passing comment from Kurt a few weeks prior, about how much more handsome the jock looked without the mohawk, had caused Puck to rethink that idea.

'Not that I care what Hummel thinks or anything...'

Satisfied that his clothing and appearance would not give him away as being underage, Puck pushed open the door to the bar and stepped inside.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, the jock had half expected to see a toothless old man in the corner playing a honky-tonk piano and for him to stop and run at the entrance of the badass mother that was Puckzilla.

However the bar was small, and it was dingy and there was a piano sitting in the corner sure – but there was no toothless old man and it wasn't like anything Puck had seen in a western. A single saloon style bar lined the far wall with a mirror running the length behind it and a large man in a white wife-beater stood wiping down the bar with a dirty rag.

Puck's eyes scanned the room not expecting to see any familiar forms and was already half turned ready to leave again. So when his eyes did land on a familiar Captain's jacket sitting on a stool with his back to the room, Puck had almost swallowed his tongue.

Realising that his standing in the doorway was beginning to attract attention, Puck had shuffled into the corner of the room and slipped into an empty booth. He had been there no more than five seconds when a somewhat pretty it portly girl appeared at his shoulder with a notepad,

"Get ya a drink?"

"Uh... yeah -...", Puck's mind went blank for a second as he was caught off balance, "... Bourbon, on the rocks..."

The waitress had nodded and scratched something down on her pad before she sauntered off in the direction of the bar.

Puck watched Kurt as the boy sat with his head dipped and twirled his swizzle stick in his drink rhythmically. From the moment he'd sat down, Puck hadn't seen Kurt actually pick up the drink, which he supposed was encouraging.

Still the fact that the soprano had come to a dive like this in the middle of the afternoon was enough cause for concern. Hell the fact that Kurt even knew that the place existed worried him.

'This worrying shit is for pussies...'

Puck's own bluster didn't stop the butterflies in his stomach though.

Glancing around at the other patrons in the bar, Puck was able to count three figures though he couldn't see into the booths at the far end of the room. One guy in particular however drew Puck's attention more than most as he was watching Kurt. He was in his late forties maybe with a dirty set of overalls on and heavy industrial work boots. His bald pate glinted in the meagre glow offered by the light fitting hanging above his stool.

The thought caused the half-back's hackles to rise.

"Penny for them?"

Puck shook his head and glanced up before recoiling. An old woman – there was no other word to describe her – in heavily caked make-up with a smear of something on her cheek looked down at him. It took Puck a second before realisation set in.

'Prostitute...'

"No thanks...", he quickly murmured before averting his eyes.

Thankfully the woman – and Puck used the term loosely – seemed to accept his answer and drifted away with a muttered,

"Suit yourself hon'..."

Sighing in relief and picking up his drink, Puck took a larger swallow than he had previously – this time his nerves let the grimace at the taste show on his face.

'I fucking hate Bourbon...'

The low murmur of voices drew Puck's attention as he glanced back up again, expecting to see the woman touting for business. What he saw however caused his blood to run cold.

The same that guy Puck had clocked staring at Kurt earlier had obviously approached the bar and was now leaning on beside the soprano making conversation. From Kurt's stiff posture it was clear that the man's attentions were not welcome.

'Hummel's a big boy though...'

Puck decided that he'd just keep an eye on the brunette and make sure he stayed safe. It was the least he could do. Who was he to step in -

"Don't be like that..."

The older guy – Puck decided to call him 'Creep' – pawed at one of the shiny buttons on Kurt's jacket and the brunette jerked back sharply. Though Puck couldn't hear the majority of the conversation it was clear that Kurt was telling the man he wasn't interested.

'Listen to him Creep...'

Creep wasn't the smart type though and he continued to press,

"Just a little fun boy... no need to get upset..."

The phrase caused Puck's stomach to roil – Puck had met guys like this in the past. Guys who would profess to hate gay people, to be straight as a die and yet would happily force themselves on any cute guy weaker than them.

'Wait... cute?'

"You're hurting me!"

At the pleading outburst, Puck exploded from his seat and watched as the soprano was jerked off his stool by the larger man who had a tight grip of Kurt's forearm.

"Hey asshole..."

The larger man turned a dismissive gaze to Puck while Kurt stood frozen to the spot – whether in fear or awe Puck didn't know. It didn't really matter at that point, Puck was just interested in keeping Kurt safe.

"Buzz off kid and mind your own business..."

Puck smirked dangerously – this moron had no idea who he was dealing with – he was facing Puckzilla. Sure Puck gave up probably more than a hundred pounds on the man but he was still confident he could win any fight between them.

And it looked like he was going to get to prove it.

"Let him go asshole..."

Creep's eyes hardened like flint as he stared evenly into Puck's stormy eyes and dropped his grip on Kurt's forearm. A silent battle of wills seemed to take place between the two. Kurt remained standing frozen to the spot as he rubbed his arm in comfort.

'If he fucking left any kind of mark...'

"If you know what's good for you kid you'll turn around and walk away..."

The threat was spoken in an even tone that suggested that Creep had used it before and had clearly had the stones to back it up. Puck couldn't walk away though – that would leave Kurt to this mouth-breather's attentions.

"Kurt – leave now...", Puck's voice was hard edged and the brunette's eyes flicked up to meet his own for a second.

"No Kurt...", Creep interrupted, "... stay right where you are..."

The battle of wills recommenced as Kurt appeared to debate whether to leave or not. It was clear he wanted to but that fear was overriding common sense.

Puck glanced around the room expecting that someone else would step in and stop this from going down. However the room which had been filled with patrons moments earlier appeared to have been deserted.

'Fucking pussies...'

"So what's it going to be kid?...", Puck bristled at the dismissive tone, "... you going to walk away or am I going to have to teach you a lesson?"

"If the lesson is 'Loser 101' – I'll pass..."

The first punch caught Puck off guard and caused him to stumble backwards as Creep advanced on him. Kurt's cry of panic however energised the half-back as he quickly shook off the effects of the sucker-punch.

Puck's estimation of Creep's ability in a fight was not wrong – the man was strong and packed a wicked right cross – but his increased mass made him slow and lumbering.

Regaining his footing, Puck dodged a swing aimed at his temple and delivered a hard shot to Creep's kidneys that caused the larger man to grunt in discomfort.

The larger man grabbed the jock in a bear hug and with a yell both men went falling through a heavy wooden table causing it to splinter and break apart in a million pieces.

Adrenaline pounded through Puck's system as he blocked those shots he could and absorbed those he couldn't whilst Creep had him pinned to the floor.

"Teach... you... snot... nosed... kid...", each word from Creep's mouth was punctuated by a blow to the head or torso of the half-back until finally the larger man seemed to run out of steam and stood up.

Puck lay dazed on the floor, some of the shots he'd taken were fearsome.

"Glad to see you stuck around Kurt..."

Creep's voice broke through the fog settling on Puck's mind as he rolled himself over to his side, stifling his groan of discomfort.

Puck looked up into the face of Kurt who was focused solely on the larger man as he stalked towards him. The half-back could clearly see the tears forming in Kurt's panic stricken eyes.

"Please..."

Kurt's plea was the last straw.

'He can't fucking have him...'

Pushing himself to his knees, Puck ignored the searing pain of protest from his side and lunged at Creep with a yell of anger.

The larger man was caught off guard by the unexpected attack and Puck used this to his advantage – the jock's hands were lightning fast as he rained down a sustained attack on the larger man – before finally a swift uppercut caused Creep's knees to buckle and he collapsed to the floor.

Standing over the prone man, Puck looked down in disdain,

"Keep your filthy, stinking hands of my Kurt..."

Before the jock punctuated the end of his sentence with a swift kick to the man's ribs, sending him rolling over and wheezing for breath.

Looking up into Kurt's eyes, Puck expected to see fear... possibly gratitude... anger wasn't anywhere on the list.

"What the Hell did you do?"

"You're welcome..."

Puck spat out a glob of bloody spit onto the sawdust covered floor, before swiping a napkin from the bar and blotting at a cut on his lip.

"You mouth-breathing idiot – why did you have to stick your nose in? I didn't ask for your help!"

"Why did I...", Puck's voice was genuinely confused, "... I just saved you from being molested... and got the crap kicked out of me in the process in case you didn't notice..."

Kurt huffed as he picked up his bag and stormed out of the bar. Puck glanced around at the still deserted room, before wincing as his ribs protested his heavy breathing. Picking up his pace, Puck half-jogged, half-stumbled after the soprano.

"Kurt wait!...", Puck pleaded as he attempted to keep up with the brunette as he stormed away, "... for fuck's sake Hummel STOP!"

Puck was forced to stop as the sharp pain in his ribs became unbearable – it was beginning to get difficult to take in any more than a shallow breath.

Kurt continued to walk on for a few paces before he seemed to realise that the half-back was no longer trailing after him and came to a stop.

"Are you OK?", Kurt's voice was softer than it had been previously and the anger that he had been feeling appeared to have bled away.

Puck chuckled and winced at the same time as he rolled his eyes at the boy,

"Peachy..."

Shuffling in the direction of a small wall beside a run down house, Puck gingerly set himself down with a sigh.

"Why?"

The question was softly spoken and surprised the jock, surely Kurt knew the answer already,

"Because he was an asshole..."

"No – why – were you following me?"

'Ah...'

Puck shrugged before deciding that honesty was probably the best way forward no matter what the effect on his badass rep,

"You – you... ah shit, I was worried about you OK?"

Puck ducked his head in embarrassment and therefore missed the dumbstruck expression on Kurt's face. The sound of bubbling laughter verging on the hysterical however he couldn't miss.

"You... you were worried about me?"

Glancing back up, Puck watched with concern as Kurt cried openly through his tears – the adrenaline of the past few minutes must have been wearing off he suspected.

"Yes... I've been watching you for days now."

"OK – that's creepy..."

Puck looked up repentant as he matched the soprano's stare,

"Would you rather that I weren't there earlier?...", the question seemed to bring Kurt up short as he snapped his mouth shut, "... yeah I thought as much..."

Puck sucked in air through his teeth as he levered himself back to a standing position.

"You had no right to follow me..."

"Blah blah blah, Hummel..."

The fire seemed to return to Kurt's eyes for a moment and Puck saw the boy he had come to recognise, before the flame was snuffed out again in short order.

"Fine – thank you for saving me. Now leave me the Hell alone."

Puck watched as Kurt stomped off and he let him go. Following at a discrete distance, the half-back ensured that Kurt went straight to his car and watched as the brunette drove off in a squeal of tires and black smoke.

Climbing awkwardly into the driver's seat of his own truck, Puck stuck the keys in the ignition and reaching into the glove box pulled out a pack of painkillers.

Popping two into his mouth and crunching them with his teeth, Puck pulled the truck out of its space. Turning right at the intersection and going the opposite direction from the Navigator, Puck grimaced.

"You're welcome Hummel..."

A/N: I have so many bunnies that I think I'll have to open some kind of pet shop in the future. Marc, I hope you realise that your comment caused me to spend six hours writing this and I hope you like it.

I might end up writing more on this over time, I quite enjoyed the dynamic, time I suppose will tell.

PLEASE REVIEW.