Author's note: So this is set around ten years after graduation. The parts written in italics are flashbacks to a moment in school (except for when it's lyrics), from both Puck's and Kurt's point of view. This is a one-shot.

High School reunion. Are you kidding me? Puck eyes the colourful paper in disgust. Hot pink makes him gag and his eyes sting painfully by the mere sight of it. Those events were just full of shitfaces who kept boasting around with all that they supposedly had accomplished since they got out of McKinley. Not even half of it was true, just stupid crap and a good percentage would hire an escort so they could have a nice lady on their arm. Puck snorts, balls up his invitation and throws it across the room. He misses the trash can with an inch, but does not give a damn, just like he does not give a damn about that reunion. He is not going back there.

He fucking hated that stupid Hat of Fate. It had seen its last day. Seriously, he would end it. Burn it, cut it, whatever. It was going to be painful and he was going to destroy it. Queen Fairy seemed to be just as pissed off by the situation as he was, sitting cross-legged on a chair and studying his nails like some stuck-up princess.

"I'm not cool with this."

Hummel turned his icy eyes towards him, eyes him over once and sighed.

"We've already established that, Puck, and believe me; your hostile feelings are mutual. I have no desire whatsoever of doing this assignment with you."

Slightly thrown off his game by Hummel's fancy words, he hesitated before replying.

"I ain't serenading some dude, just so you know."

The envelope stood out from the rest of clean, white and professional. Pink. Kurt turns it over several times, not sure of if he really wants to open it. It is so… Rachel. Alright, she had calmed down over the years, but her teenage self showed up from time to time. Kurt had to endure her – she was his brother's wife after all and if he wanted to keep Finn around, Rachel tagged along too. Two to the price of one, even though that extra was neither wanted nor needed. He licks his lips, looks at the ghastly envelope once again and decides to go for it. The grand McKinley High School Reunion. Euw. He wants nothing to do with that place. Kurt immediately regrets that he opened the damn thing. If he had not, he could deny that he knew anything about it when Rachel came to drag his sorry ass the 600-or-whatever miles back to Lima again. New York was his home now and he really did not want to go back. Too many memories. The invitation ends up in the trash can. He was not going.

"I ain't serenading some dude, just so you know."

Kurt rolled his eyes, sending his assignment partner a glare. Really, he would have preferred pairing up with Rachel on this. Even though she had a horrifying taste in fashion (you could not even call it fashion, with what she was wearing), there was no denying that she had a voice and a somewhat terrifying charisma.

"You don't have to", he replied icily. "A serenade is not the same as just singing a song to me. Sing whatever you want, I don't care."

This assignment had a scary resemblance to the ballad-week, but Kurt was less lucky this time. Having Finn in the choir room with him would have felt far better than this Neanderthal who stood leaning against the piano with one of his badass-is-displeased look.

"It's supposed to be a classic, right?" Puck said softly.

"Noah, you're not slacking off, are you?"

Puck immediately shoots up from his chair, putting on an innocent smile (at least he thinks it is innocent, though, he is probably not capable of it). He raises his gaze to look at his employer, adjusting his cap in one swift movement.

"Course not, Mr H."

Burt Hummel eyes him over quickly, but Puck already knows that he is off the hook. Mr H is a cool guy, offering him a job and everything so he at least would not be a broke Lima Loser. He raises his worn baseball cap, scratches absentmindedly his greyed hair. He was starting to look old, Kurt's old man. Had a heart attack just a couple of months back and it just went downhill from there, since he was asked to go on a diet. Puck and Mr H eat donuts whenever Mrs Hummel-Hudson is not around. At those times, they are not employer and employee, but sort of friends. Sometimes he talks about Kurt. He misses his son, who is away and busy being great in New York City. Puck listens, though he does not want to hear shit about Kurt.

"Just got a new customer, you mind taking a look at it? The grey Honda out there", Mr H says and his eyes flicker towards the chairs. He is tired, Puck sees it easily.

"Course not", he repeats. "Get yourself some coffee and sit down, alright?"

Mr H hums something unintelligible, but complies. Puck tends to the Honda in silence. The radio plays in the background, some oldies station which Mr H enjoys listening to. It is bearable and he knows he would get in trouble for switching to something else, so he lets it play. The lyrics slowly register in his mind.

… now someone else is gettin' all your best
These boots are made for walking,
And that's just what they'll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you…

Puck drops the damn monkey wrench at the realization. Stumbling, scrambling, panicking he starts off towards the radio, fumbling hands ripping out the power cord. The song dies away abruptly and he is left on the floor, breathing heavily. He fucking hates that song.

"It is supposed to be a classic, right?"

"Yes."

"Could you give me an example?"

The frigging fruitcake just snorted as he nonchalantly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to polish his black boots. They already looked totally clean to Puck and he wanted to snap at him and tell him to clean his fairy boots later, but those shoes looked like they could kick his brains out. Not worth the risk. Though, suddenly a wicked smile spread across Hummel's face and he came to his feet gracefully, adjusting his faggy vest as he strode towards the piano. Puck recognized the intro, but could not place it. Then Hummel sang.

"You keep saying, you've got something for me
Something you call love, but confess
You've been messin', where you shouldn't be messin'
And now someone else is gettin' all your best
These boots are made for walking
And that's just what they'll do
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you…"

Now it was time for Puck to roll his eyes. That was just like Hummel; singing something about a pair of shoes. A pair of shoes which planned to walk all over Puck. Nice.

"I feel so loved right now."

"You want to feel loved? Fine."

So he was going. Rachel had done the unforgiveable. Instead of coming over herself, she had sent Kurt's weak point to plead. Finn.

"You know, Finn, you should really put a leash on your woman", Kurt murmurs as he is serving his brother a cup of coffee. Finn only snickers, dropping three sugar cubes into the dark liquid. Kurt leans against his kitchen counter, watching him quietly, just patiently waiting for what he knows is coming.

"Why won't you come to the reunion? It could be fun, seeing everyone again. Artie, Tina… Do you ever talk to Mercedes nowadays?"

"We chat from time to time", Kurt admits, but avoids the first question asked.

"I know your time in High School was pretty rough, but with Glee and all… didn't it get better?"

Kurt stares down his own cup, pondering over Finn's question. It had gotten better. He had been happier, more… open. He had gotten so many friends who accepted him for who he was, he had sung, he had been glad. Though, back in his senior year, Karofsky and Azimio had finally done what they had threatened to do for so long. All he really remembers is the pain and the cold asphalt beneath him when he laid waiting for someone to find him. He remembers Puck's arms when he held him and said that help would be there soon.

"Yes, it did, but I'm not going. I don't have time."

Then Finn flips his triumph card.

"I bet Burt and Mom would love to have us down there for a couple of days."

Kurt is going to his High School reunion.

"You want to feel loved?" Kurt questioned rapidly with narrowed eyes. "Fine." His voice was toxic. He would show him, that moronic Neanderthal. He thanked God that he had never missed a piano lesson in his entire life. His fingers moved easily over the piano and found the right, sultry sound quickly. Feel the power of Peggy Lee.

"Never know how much I love you
Never know how much I care
When you put your arms around me
I get a fever that's so hard to bear
You give me fever
When you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight
Fever, in the morning
A fever all through the night."

He threw Puck an indifferent glance, eyebrows raised and lips forming a smirk. It seemed as if the jock was going to let him finish this one.

"Sun lights up the daytime
Moon lights up the night
I light up when you call my name
And you know I'm gonna treat you right
You give me fever
When you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight
Fever, in the morning
A fever all through the night

Everybody's got the fever
That is something you all know
Fever isn't such a new thing
Fever started long ago

Romeo loved Juliet
Juliet, she felt the same
When he puts his arms around her
He said, "Julie baby you're my flame
Thou givest fever, when we kisseth
Fever with thy flaming youth
Fever, I'm on fire
Fever yeah, I burn forsooth"

Captain Smith and Pocahontas
Had a very mad affair
When her daddy tried to kill him
She said, "Daddy oh don't you dare
He gives me fever with his kisses
Fever when he holds me tight
Fever, I'm his missus
And daddy won't you treat him right?"

Now you've listened to my story
Here's the point that I've made
Boys were born to give you fever
Be it Fahrenheit or Centigrade

He had expected Puck to recoil at the emphasis, but he still stood leaning against the piano. A vague smile fluttered across his lips, one eyebrow raised in an intriguing manner. Kurt simple continued, knowing that at some point Puck would break and Kurt… He would enjoy watching it happen.

They give you fever
When you kiss them
Fever if you live and learn
Fever till you sizzle
Oh what a lovely way to burn

What a lovely way to burn
What a lovely way to burn
And what a lovely way to burn…"

He let the final notes linger, vibrate between them both before he looked up to meet Puck's gaze. The jock wore one of his signature badass-smirks.

"That's more like it", he said, amusement audible in his smooth voice.

Two days later, the Honda is completely fixed. It had given him a hard time to start with, but they soon came to an agreement. Puck has tried the engine twice now and everything is working. He is washing grease off his hands when Mr H walks in with a smile spread from ear to ear. Puck has not seen him smiling like that for quite some time. He beams like the sun. He does not even have time to ask him what's up, until he bellows in a warm, happy tone:

"Kurt's coming home!"

Mr H looks like he is going to break out in song any second now. Puck feels physically ill.

"Finn and Rachel too, of course. They're going to the reunion. You're going too, right?"

Puck considers lying to him, telling him that yes, of course he is going. Somehow, the words can not leave his lips. Mr H has been so nice to him, always frank and honest. When times were too rough, he knew he was always welcome to dinner at the Hummel-Hudson residence. So Puck shakes his head, which makes a cloud cover the sun which is Burt Hummel.

"Why the hell not?"

He can only shrug, because really, he does not have an answer which he wants to share with his employer. Mr H is not happy about it.

"You don't want to see your old friends?"

"Well, yeah, sure… but those things are just so people can gloat and boast. What do I have to boast about? Still being a Lima Loser?"

He dries his hands on his blue coverall with the small name tag saying "Puck". Kurt's coveralls still hangs on the hook next to his in the small changing room. Mr H crosses his arms across his chest and looks at him with concern in his eyes.

"You're not a loser for staying in your hometown. You've gone through some hard times and no one will judge you for that. If they do, they're just ain't worth your time."

Puck shoves his hands down his pockets, listening in silence. Mr H is right, he knows that, but he still can not help feeling shitty because he is still there while his former friends are out in the world.

"Now, you do what you want with that reunion, but you're welcome to eat dinner with us when my kiddo gets home, okay?"

"That's more like it."

Fever? Interesting choice of song. Puck was used to hearing Hummel sing like a chick (or a middle-aged truck driver, when he was going through his straight-phase), but this time he actually sounded like a boy. He sounded pretty good too, all sensual and whatever. It was too tempting. Screw that he was supposedly a guy, Puck needed to tease him.

"I give you fever, huh?"

Hummel snorted again (he was pretty good at that), but he still smiled vaguely.

"Don't flatter yourself. It was only an example."

"Why not? I'm hot, you're queer."

"Just because I happen to be homosexual, doesn't mean I find all men attractive. I do have taste."

"Have you seen my guns?"

"This is not so much about your physical appearance. The fact is that I despise you to the very core of your existence. You are a bully and a jerk. How could I ever find that attractive?"

Wow. Harsh. Though, he liked his women feisty.

"My badassness aside, you think I'm hot stuff, right?"

The blush spreading all over Hummel's cheeks gave him all the answers he needed. Get ready, fairy, here comes Puckzilla.

It is raining. Of course it is raining the day he decides to return to Lima, Ohio. It feels as if the weather reflects his mood. He sits in the backseat of Finn's car, the two lovebirds are in the front. They are just as sickening as they were ten years ago. He sighs for the twenty second time that hour. It had been a ten hour drive. Finn and Rachel had stood outside his door at seven am so they would get there in time for dinner. They have just passed the Welcome to Lima sign and Kurt feels his heart beat faster. He sits up straighter in his seat, watches the familiar scenery around him. He had not been there for months and the reason then had been his father's heart attack. Before that, he had not been to Lima in several years. Now… he was back. Something churns within him as memories come flooding back with such great force that he feels like vomiting. He does not even realize that they are home until a strong pair of arms pulls him into a bone crushing hug. Dad.

"My badassness aside, you think I'm hot stuff, right?"

Kurt could feel how his cheeks turned burning hot under Puck's scrutinizing gaze. The worst part was that he was right. He did find him attractive. After all, Kurt had seen him in the showers after football practice and that body was to die for. He swallowed hard, avoiding Puck's hazel eyes. He was expecting an answer.

"I can… appreciate your exterior for purely aesthetic reasons."

"Dude… Speak English, will you?"

"Yes, physically you're… hot stuff", he admitted in a biting tone, grimacing at the words Puck had chosen to describe himself. "And don't call me dude."

Puck chuckled in amusement, approached him slowly with something dangerous in his eyes. Kurt did not like this one bit and all he really wanted was to scurry away and hide somewhere, but he was never the one to back down. So he stayed put with a stoic posture which would make Coach Sylvester proud.

"Do you ever jerk off thinking of me?" Puck drawled from right behind him.

Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin at the soft touch of fingertips to the back of his neck. His heart was beating madly when he rose to his feet and spun around to stare down his tormenter. Equal parts angry and aroused, he put his hands on his hips and struck his most fabulous diva pose. Puck sneered at him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I bet you do", Puck replied, completely disregarding Kurt's furious question.

"Of course not! That's ridiculous", Kurt lied.

"Is it… dude?"

"I said, don't call me dude."

McKinley High looks exactly the same. Puck shoves his hands down his pockets and thinks that hell, he must have gone crazy, because he is back again. The fact that he once had ruled this place feels so distant. He crosses the parking lot, passes the dumpsters. He does not look at them, because if he does, he will once again feel Kurt's warm body pressed against his side. Trembling, but only slightly, because Kurt always went down the dumpster with his head held high. Puck walks faster, eager to put as much distance between himself and the dumpsters as possible. There is a banner hanging over the entrance, welcoming him to the reunion. He reluctantly enters and some girl he does not recognize hands him a name tag and says that it is nice to see him again. They probably had sex or something, Puck does not really care, because he steps into the decorated gym and everything is fucking hot pink. It feels as if he has taken a trip into Rachel Berry's head and that just ain't cool. Please, kill me now. Vaguely familiar faces approach him and he recognizes a few, greets them and smiles, though he does not want to see them or converse with them at all. His legs are moving again and he wanders, out of the gym which stinks of sweat filled years, into long halls bordered with beige lockers. He knows where he is going and a part of him wants to stop and walk back, but he does not.

"I said, don't call me dude", Kurt hissed and his eyes were on fire.

Fuck, he looked so damn hot. A thrill shot through Puck's body – he loved riling him up like this. Hummel was rarely mad, but when he was… Jeez, if eyes could kill. He had his hands on his hips in one of his fruity poses and Puck knew that he just needed to go a little bit further until he broke, until this Ice Queen façade faltered and he became all hot and bothered. One step closer and he could feel Hummel's heat radiate from his body.

"What are you going to do about it, dude?"

A smirk, a challenge and a light finger trailing down from his cheek, over his gulping throat and to his heavily heaving chest. His hands were balled up into fists, trembling, but it was not the same tremble as by the dumpsters. He was not afraid. He shivered with lust. Puck knew this when his large hands pulled McFag closer by his belt, easily unbuckling, unbuttoning and unzipping. No complaints, just a silent understanding. No objections, not even when they were on the floor and Hummel wore his dry-cleaned designer clothes. Nothing, as Puck ripped his vest apart and a button broke free and skidded across the linoleum. Not a single word when they were half-naked and grounding together, just small ashamed gasps of pleasure and a cry out when Hummel came. His fingers had dug into Puck's back, leaving marks and invisible scars.

It had not changed one bit. Kurt stands in the middle of the choir room, staring helplessly around him. It is the same chairs, the same grand piano. The same linoleum floor where he had lost his virginity to Noah Puckerman. He is gripping the hem of his shirt, as if that would help him to stay on his feet when he feels like collapsing. He is thinking that he should not have come here, he should have stayed in New York. The opening night of his new show on Broadway is in just a week, he should have stayed home and polished his performance. It was stupid to come back. Kurt closes his eyes, his face scrunching up in a pained grimace when he fights the tears which threaten to come spilling down his pale cheeks. He does not hear the approaching footsteps or the hesitant pause they make by the door opening. All he can do is feel and what he feels is his heart breaking all over again, old scars being yanked open to expose gushing wounds. A strong pair of arms wraps around him before he falls.

"What are you going to do about it, dude?"

Puck's voice challenged him and all Kurt wanted to do was to smudge that annoying smirk off his face. His hands itched to slap away the hand touching him, but he resisted the urge. It felt good, there was no denying that. Puck forced his pants open and he did not stop him, because he was being touched. There were no lips touching lips, no longing embrace, just pure lust and desire when Puck pulled him close. How they ended up on the floor was a mystery, but large and experienced hands ripped clothes off his body and his skin was on fire, a fire only those hands could extinguish. His vest was disposed of, his pants pushed down to his ankles and Kurt realized that he did not care. Every move, every action was coloured by the furious anger and mad hunger he felt within. He had absolutely no idea of what he was doing, everything was on impulse and for a second he wondered if Puck knew what he was doing. Probably, since he with ease and determination pushed Kurt's legs over his shoulders. Hesitation and nervousness coursed through his body, but he was soon convinced by Puck's throbbing manhood pressing against the inside of his naked thigh. The intrusion hurt more than he ever could have imagined and he bit down hard on his lower lip so the pained cry out would not escape him. His fingers dug into his back, holding him tight, desperately asking for help without words leaving his lips. He felt a hand upon his sweaty forehead, gentle and so different from the heated touch. His bright eyes were clouded with tears, but he still managed to make out the contours of Puck when he looked at him, leaning closer. The kiss lasted only for a few seconds, though, it felt like years of painless bliss. Soft lips brushed against his, extracting a small sigh of pleasure from Kurt. It was easier from then on and it was over soon. They were teenage boys, after all. Shaking, Kurt had scrambled to his feet, fumbling and struggling with his clothes – cheeks deep red in shame. Puck had barely gotten up from the floor when he reached the door.

"Don't tell anyone", Kurt whispered, since his voice failed him. "It was a mistake."

Then he was out the door.

Noah had not expected that anyone would be there, there in the choir room. He came to a halt, staring at the petite figure in the middle of the room. The man is wearing something which looks as if it has come straight out of a fashion magazine, a scarf is wrapped around his neck. Kurt used to wear scarves like that the week after they fucked in the choir room, so no one would see the marks Noah had left upon his neck. The man's hair is a light brown and perfectly arranged. He realizes who it is about the time Kurt's knees give in beneath him and he throws himself forward, manages to catch him before they both tumble to the floor where they once had spent a heated moment ten years ago. Noah hugs him tight to his chest and all he hears is Kurt, Kurt, Kurt and he does not know if it is just a thought or if he actually whispers it into his ear. Slowly, oh so slowly, a pair of arms wraps themselves around his neck and he might just burst out in tears. He feels like a chick when he begs him to never leave again, but when Kurt complies, he feels that it is worth it.

When Puck had wrestled the resident fag to the floor, planning for some fun, he had never predicted that he was the one who was going to be left in the choir room with his pants shoved down and shame creeping up on him. A mistake. He got to his feet hastily, pulled up his pants and adjusted his shirt. His legs were still wobbly, so he sank down upon one of the chairs in the choir room. He had not planned for this to be more than a regular fuck, just to mess with the fairy's head or whatever. Hummel had said that it was a mistake. A mistake, like the one Puck did a year later when his mom died and he let Kurt kiss away the pain. A mistake, like he did when he begged Kurt to stay and he went to New York anyway. A mistake, just like the one he did when he accepted the job Burt Hummel offered him, knowing that it was Kurt who had asked his father to help him out. The mistake he did when he let him go.

Noah has been working late hours lately. He is always tired when he comes home after dark, especially with the bad weather going on. The apartment rests in silent darkness and he hangs his coat up to dry. The rain is thundering against the windows and even though he is hungry, all he wants right now is to crawl into bed and sleep. He drops his clothes on his way towards the bedroom, his shirt ending up in the living room and his socks next to the bed. The mattress creaks beneath him when he carefully slides down between dark blue sheets. A sigh of relief and relaxation leaves him. A mischievous voice suddenly reaches his ears.

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

The comment startles a laugh from Noah and he rolls over to his side to find himself staring into a pair of bright eyes. His hand trail down Kurt's naked side and he smiles.

"To me it seems that you're not wearing anything at all."

A delighted giggle and Kurt pushes his body close, close, close to his.

"Are you tired?" he wonders affectionately.

"Yes."

"Too tired?"

"No."

"Good", Kurt whispers. "Because you give me fever."

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed reading

(The awesome) Songs used:

These Boots Are Made For Walking – Nancy Sinatra

Fever – Peggy Lee

Now, reviews are like crack to me and I ain't going to rehab anytime soon, so please spare me from abstinence.