Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/754572.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, F/F
  Fandom:
      Glee
  Relationship:
      Kurt_Hummel/Noah_Puckerman, Santana_Lopez/Brittany_S._Pierce, Santana
      Lopez/Noah_Puckerman, Kurt_Hummel/Brittany_S._Pierce
  Character:
      Noah_Puckerman, Kurt_Hummel, Brittany_S._Pierce, Santana_Lopez
  Additional Tags:
      Marijuana, Loss_of_Virginity, Hand_Jobs, Oral_Sex
  Series:
      Part 9 of Get_Glee_Laid
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-09 Words: 3920
****** A Kind Of Ease To It ******
by gala_apples
Summary
     Every drug user wants to think they’re their dealer’s best friend,
     their favourite. Nine times out of ten the user is completely
     delusional, but Puck thinks it might actually be true in his case.
     The four of them only hang out when they’re high, but Brittany and
     Kurt are always high and he and Santana aren’t that much better.
     Set during 1x09- Wheels
Puck’s at his locker when Kurt stops beside him. Puck doesn’t shove Kurt, like
he would have ten times out of ten all of freshman year. He just waits with a
raised eyebrow for whatever snarky comment Kurt is about to say.
“Just in case you wanted feedback, those weed cupcakes were delicious.”
Puck stares at Kurt. “What?”
Kurt looks back at him, entirely unimpressed. “You heard me.”
“How did you know?”
“Because I’m not a moron?”
Okay, it’s reasonable to say Hummel’s smarter than a lot of McKinley’s
students. William McKinley’s not exactly a magnet school. But Puck still can’t
make the leap from intelligence to being able to taste weed in cake. “No,
really. How?”
Kurt starts walking towards the parking lot, apparently sure that Puck’s
curiosity will make him follow. It’s a good assumption, Puck does. “I know what
weed cupcakes taste like. Good ones. In the last year I’ve perfected my recipe.
The one I bought from you to support Artie was comparable.”
Puck couldn’t feel more stunned if Barack Obama sneaked up behind him to whack
him in the face with an elk. “You... You smoke?”
Kurt sniffs. “April Rhodes was hardly the first to come up with the concept of
numbing yourself to get through a day. Actually, looking back I believe that’s
why I got sick. I shouldn’t have combined the two.”
“You smoke at school?” Shit, and he’d thought he was badass for buying on
school property. If Kurt is telling the truth, that’s not anything.
“Not most days. But I have an emergency joint if I get a particularly bad
dumpstering.”
“So you’re like, stealth friends with Brett?” Brett Leifson is the only person
Puck knows who’s consistently high.
“You buy from Sandy Ryerson. Obviously.”
“Yeah?” He’s right. He just didn’t answer Puck’s question.
“I buy from Brick at my dad’s shop. He has much better product. Well, I
occasionally buy from Brett, if Brick is dry, whom I’m well aware buys from
Sandy Ryerson. But at least that way I don’t have to go near him. He creeps me
out.”
“He creeps everyone out.”
“True. But he thinks I’m available. With you it’d be rape, even in his eyes. He
thinks I want it.”
Puck scowls. “That’s fucked up.”
“Hence Brick.”
The name hits him the second time it’s said. “Wait, Brick Pierce?”
“I don’t know his last name, I don’t write the paychecks. Probably? How many
men named Brick can there be in Lima Ohio?”
“It’s gotta be. I’m hitching a ride you.”
“I was actually planning on going home, to practice for the Diva Off, but if
you simply must know, fine. I’ll give you a ride to the shop. Provided you stop
buying from Sandy Ryerson. I’d really rather no one I know get caught in his
web, even if it’s my enemy.”
“Dude, I’m not your enemy. I stopped saying fag and calling Glee Homo Explosion
and Den of Fairies. And I haven’t dumpstered you in weeks.”
“Congratulations on being a decent human being. And get in the car.”
Puck gets in the passenger seat. It might not be the best move for his rep, but
he can always give someone a black eye or chip a tooth if they have anything to
say. It’s a short drive, less than ten minutes before they’re parking behind
the garage and walking through the back.
“You’re Brittany’s older brother.” Puck says the instant he sees the man in
question. He doesn’t know how Kurt didn’t see it. Aside from the dyed black
hair they’re practically identical.
“Yeah, and?”
“Wanna sell to me? Since we’re like one degree of separation, and my dealer is
a creep?”
Brick shakes his head. “If you know her, buy from her. Kurt I know you know
Brit too. She likes Glee, when she’s not trying to be a mole. I think half the
time she thinks it’s literal. By all means, Kurt, buy from her. For me this is
pocket change. For her it’s her allowance.”
“What?”
“Our parents run a grow op. Our allowance is given in grams, not dollars.”
“You’re serious?”
Brick shrugs. “Who are you going to tell? Besides, the op’s not in the
basement. If you did decide you were on The Man’s side, what could you really
say?”
Puck snorts. “I’ve almost been arrested like fifteen times. I want the weed,
and I don’t care about your parents business. Besides the fact that I’ve known
Brittany years and she’s never said anything.”
“You never got the impression she’s perma-stoned?” Brick chuckles. “Right or
wrong, our house is in a constant state of hotboxed, and has been since I was a
kid. But maybe you have to be looking for it to see it. Anyway, go buy from
her. Give her a twenty for some cat toys or something.”
“Just drop me off at Brit’s,” Puck says as they leave. It should maybe be
phrased like a question, but whatever. He’s not known for manners, and Kurt’s
already taken him this far.
Kurt drives him over, the ride again quiet except for tracks three and part of
four on this weird Diva mix cd. Instead of idling he parks and gets out too,
explaining that he’s nearly dry.
Brittany answers the door with a smile. “Are we having rehearsal at my house
today? Lord Tubbington won’t like Tina. He hates vampires.”
“We want to buy from you,” Puck says, ignoring everything she’s just said.
Sometimes you have to with her. Her words don’t seem rational enough to just be
being stoned, but Brittany’s surrounded by adults that would help her, get her
diagnosed if they felt she needed it. He’s thought about it a few times, and as
always he just lets it slide. Not his problem.
“One sec.” Brittany pulls out her phone. “Hi San. Puck and Kurt wanna buy. He
didn’t say. Okay. Love you.” Brittany hangs up. “She’ll be here soon. I’m not
allowed to sell without her here. Wanna get high while we wait?”
“Wouldn’t dream of saying no,” Kurt replies for them both.
Brittany hustles them into a living room area. The flowery wallpaper is normal,
if a bit old fashioned. The huge U shaped white suede sectional is normal, if a
bit stained. The life sized Bob Ross wood carved statue is not normal, nor are
the sheer number of mobiles hanging from the ceiling, or the paper mache swan
sitting on top of the box tv. There’s pan flute music coming from somewhere.
Puck can’t tell where, he doesn’t see a laptop or cd player anywhere.
“I’ll sit in the middle, so I can get both your mouths.”
The comment doesn’t make sense, but he sits on one side of Brittany as Kurt
gets the other anyway. Brittany pulls a wooden box from the underside of the
coffee table. Inside it are at least an ounce’s worth of dimebags, as well as a
butane lighter and two different pipes. Brittany picks out the bigger glass
pipe and pushes almost an entire gram’s worth of weed into the bowl. Her lips
narrow over the hole as she closes her eyes. Kurt’s the perfect gentleman
lighting the weed for her, and she inhales deeply. Impressively deeply, though
it makes sense when you figure her hobbies are shouting while exercising,
singing, and blowjobs. Her lungs are probably double the capacity of the
average guy Puck shoves into a locker.
That’s when she turns and plants her lips on his. Once she’s sure their lips
are as sealed as possible she blows the smoke into his mouth. The concept of
shotgunning has never made much sense to Puck. Somebody else is sucking the
smoke down, letting it fill their lungs. By the time it’s exhaled surely all
the delightful toxins have been stolen. But if that’s how Brittany like to get
high Puck will follow her example of smoking. Since she’s his new supplier
making her upset would be a shitty idea. Especially if she’s still upset by the
time Santana arrives to complete the transaction.
Puck goes to school the next day with full intentions of smoking up with some
of the football players after school. Not those putzes Karofsky and Azimio,
they don’t deserve to mooch. Some of the more neutral guys. Tanaka’s shitfit
forced everyone to make their alliances clear, and everyone knows which way he
and Mike and Matt went. Finn was a bitch about it, until he put on his leader-
face and made Tanaka take it back, but the damage was done. Puck’s got a bit of
damage control to do, and that starts with getting guys like Dewey and Ford and
Birchwood stoned to prove he’s still a badass.
The roughly sketched plan crashes into the sea when Kurt bombs the Diva Off.
Everyone fake claps and Kurt reacts exactly the way that he used to when Puck
and Azimio used to corner him for a dumpstering; like he knew this was coming
and he’s just gotta get through the next five minutes and the rest of the day
will be better. It makes Puck wonder for a second if Kurt knew he was going to
bomb. But no, Kurt’s got enough of an ego that he wouldn’t have brought the
whole thing up if he didn’t think he’d win.
Puck corners him as they’re all leaving. “I guess you’re going to go home and
blaze up?”
“Why do you assume that?”
“Well one, you made it seem like your regular thing. Two, after a loss like
that to Rachel Gandhi would need to smoke up.”
Kurt looks at him. “I thought you liked her. You dated her.”
“I do like her. Doesn’t mean she’s a good person to lose to. She’s the worst
sport ever, and that’s coming from a guy who used to egg the Titan’s
opponents.”
“Yes. The answer is yes. I’ll need to be stoned to have that conversation with
my father.”
Puck slaps his hand on Kurt’s shoulder, trying not to take the instinctive
flinch personally. Just because he’s changed doesn’t mean he doesn’t have
history to overcome, doesn’t mean Kurt will suddenly acknowledge his change.
“Come over to mine.”
“What?”
“Come smoke at my house. Misery likes company, right?”
He’s expecting Kurt to ask why he’s miserable, or even to tell him off with
snark about someone so low class not making for good company. He’s not
expecting an archly stated “fine. Whatever.”
Halfway through their first bowl Puck thinks to text Santana. Everything else
he’s ever texted to her has been dirty, but this is just an offer to get
stoned. Pity for Kurt aside, it’s kinda gay to hang out with a gay guy alone in
your bedroom. Santana’s counter offer is that they both come over to
Brittany’s. Puck says yes on behalf of both of them, then spends the next ten
minutes convincing Kurt it’s what he wants to do. He does, Puck’s sure of it.
Drinking alone is depressing and leads to suicide. Puck can’t say toking does
the same, but it’s gotta be less depressing to do it with friends. And he’s
right. Within five minutes of entering Brittany’s room he’s already laughing at
Brit’s cat trying to fit in a box.
After that it becomes sort of a routine. At school they are who they are;
violent jock, lesbian-for-pay cheerleaders, impeccably dressed queer. But then
they all go to Brittany’s after school. Puck’s apartment has Sarah, Santana’s
has her grandmother, Kurt’s has pictures of his mom in every room. But Brick
works evening shift, and whatever Mr and Mrs Pierce are doing at four in the
afternoon, it’s not puttering around in their house. At Brittany’s they have
space, and alone together they smoke up. It makes them better people. People
that can be friends, not just various members of a team.
When Kurt’s stoned he stops flinching when someone gets inside his personal
bubble. Puck understands why Kurt flinches at school. He was the cause of it,
until he wasn’t, and he still doesn’t stop it from happening, just doesn’t join
in. It’s nice to see him relax.
Santana relaxes too. Like him, she’s always turned to the angry side of the
spectrum, not Kurt’s scared. On her relaxed means her one liners are a little
less witty, a little less funny, and a hundred percent less cruel.
Puck’s basic modes are angry and horny. Once the pot enters his system he
switches definitively to track two. It’s not his fault; the Pierces grow a
sativa strain. It’s not the best reaction he could have. It makes Puck want to
jerk off the entire time he’s hanging out. He doesn’t, but not for the reasons
that would make sense to him sober. It’s not because he’s scared of Kurt trying
to cop a feel. It’s because when they’re all stoned San and Brit feel
comfortable enough to make out without asking for something in return. As far
as Puck knows they hardly ever fool around just because they wants to. Jerking
off would make it about him, and stoned he can see how uncool that is.
The day everything changes starts off with a single tiny change. Normally it’s
Brittany blowing smoke into his mouth, cheeks puffed. It always almost makes
Puck laugh, her cheeks pink and ballooned at odds with the pristine ponytail
and pretty makeup. He never does laugh, it would waste what precious little THC
might be in the smoke. Sometimes it’s Santana, though for some reason she seems
more prone to blowing the smoke into Kurt’s mouth. Sometimes it’s him, blowing
into either of the girl’s mouths.
It’s not like it’s any big statement. It’s just Kurt is the one with the
mouthful of smoke and he angles his head towards Puck instead of Brittany. It’s
just that Puck doesn’t scramble back and make a big deal about Kurt turning in
the wrong direction.
It’s just that after Puck inhales all of what Kurt has, he leans in for a
second kiss.
“I don’t have another hoot,” Kurt says, confused.
“I just want- Can’t I just want-”
Kurt doesn’t bother to tell him they’ll both regret this when they’re sober.
It’s true, but Puck doesn’t care right now, and Kurt doesn’t appear to either.
Puck falls onto his back on one of the long legs of the couch and Kurt crawls
on top of him. He happily lets Kurt’s hands roam over his thighs and under his
t-shirt as they kiss. He doesn’t quite rut up into Kurt, but he doesn’t hold
back when Kurt pushes his own dick against Puck’s.
It’s not until Kurt starts unbuckling his belt that Puck pulls away. Not far,
just enough to get a word in. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish. You’re
the only virgin in the room.”
Kurt’s the only guy that can sound so freakin’ haughty with an erection. “I
plan to both start and finish a handjob, if that suits you.”
“Sounds good to me, Santana says cheerfully from where she and Brittany are
situated on the other leg. Clearly she doesn’t have the same opinions about not
getting in the way of other people fooling around. Puck would scowl, except
Kurt doesn’t seem put off by the words at all.
Kurt succeeds in opening his belt, and then he laughs. Puck shivers. It’s not
that a belly laugh in itself is sexy, it’s that Kurt is willing to do that
here. “Commando? Really?”
“Some people aren’t the underwear type,” Santana answers for him.
“Underwear is stupid,” Brittany adds. “Unless you’re on your period, or it’s
lace.”
“You’re all so...” Kurt trails off, and then curls his fingers around Puck’s
dick. He sits on Puck’s thighs and his face is such pure concentration that it
almost hurts to look at.
“Have fun, would you?”
Kurt stops momentarily. “This is my ‘I’m having fun’ face,” he replies, then
goes back to working Puck’s cock.
Puck knows it’s not. He doesn’t know when he learned Kurt well enough to read
his expressions, but he can. Maybe he couldn’t do it sober, but stoned he can
do it like blinking. He just doesn’t know how to fix this, aside from telling
Kurt he doesn’t have to. And that will just make things worse, because Kurt
knows he doesn’t have to, he’ll just get snippy if Puck says it. He’ll probably
assume that the words mean Puck doesn’t want him to anymore, because virgins
are sensitive about that sort of thing.
“Kurt you’re really hot,” Brittany calls out.
Puck thought that went without saying, but the look of surprise on Kurt’s face
before he laughs again says maybe not. Maybe that’s the sort of thing Puck
should be saying anyway, even if it is obvious. Maybe if he’d just said that
then Quinn wouldn’t have- but no. Quinn’s not here, just like nothing else from
school is.
“I aim to please, Brit,” Kurt replies, and this is abundantly clear to Puck
when he decides to use his other hand to cradle his balls. Puck’s got a thing
with his balls, and so many girls just ignore them completely.
Puck doesn’t realise how enthusiastic he’s being about Kurt touching his balls
until Santana speaks up again. She’s closer than she was before, at some point
she and Brit must have moved to the middle part of the couch. “Honey, I want
you to make me make the noises that Kurt’s making Puck make.”
“Your voices are different.”
“Just make me moan the way he is.”
After that there’s too much to focus on. There’s Kurt’s left hand, and Kurt’s
right hand, and the way his mouth feels so fucking dry from smoking. There’s
Kurt’s pretty face, still concentrating, but in a happier, hornier way, and his
bright red eyes because Kurt gets the worst stoners eyes of the four of them.
There’s the bulge in Kurt’s pants, and how much Puck wants to unwrap him from
his pretty pretty clothing and touch him. There’s Brittany, squeezed between
the coffee table and the couch like that stupid Japanese cat that fits into
boxes. There’s Brittany’s hand, up her skirt. There’s Santana sitting up, legs
spread on either side of Brittany like the best split he’s ever seen a
cheerleader do. Puck’s too stoned to take all of it in, but if he was sober
this would never be happening, so looking at one thing for three seconds then
moving on to the next totally awesome completely sexy thing is a great
compromise.
Puck returns the favour, of course. It would be shitty if he didn’t. As soon as
he comes -the third in the room to, but from the continuation of the wet noises
he won’t be the second last orgasm- he starts to return the favour. His arms
are heavy but he raises them to get Kurt’s own belt undone. Once that’s done,
and the zipper’s down, all it takes is for Kurt to rise up a little and pull
down his pants and underwear. Puck has time to think that Kurt must really want
this if he’s willing to wrinkle his pants before Kurt knee walks a bit closer
so it’s easier for Puck to reach.
Kurt’s circumcised too, so it’s really doesn’t feel all that different. It’s
just a weird angle, like Puck woke up this morning with his dick attached
backwards. Kurt tenses as soon as he grabs his cock. “I’ve never-”
“Yeah, I know. Just say stop if you want. Except don’t say stop because I
really don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to,” Kurt whispers.
“Good,’ Santana says loudly, voice half a growl from what Brittany’s still
doing to her. “And be more vocal. Vocal’s hot.”
Either Kurt’s trying for Santana, or he’s just naturally loud. Whatever it is,
Kurt groans on every upstroke. After the third Puck stops kissing him, just to
listen. When he’s moaning his voice is even breathier, even girlier. But any
girl comparison Puck could make is utterly smashed by the cock in his hand.
There’s no looking past a dick in hand.
It doesn’t take Kurt very long to come. That too isn’t a girl thing, virgin
girls take forever to get into it. Guys on the other hand- reading between the
lines of stories told in the locker room, half of them didn’t even get inside
their first girl before they shot off. Kurt’s done pretty well for himself,
when Puck thinks about it.
“You wanna flop down on top of me?” He knows better than to pull Kurt down. But
if Kurt wants to snuggle for a bit, it would be cool. Especially if he could
convince Santana to roll a joint for them, so they could smoke without sitting
up.
Kurt shakes his head and moves backwards to sit a little below Puck’s knees.
“I’m not freaking out. I just need a minute.”
“You know where I am,” Puck says with a smile.
It’s been awhile since he’s had sex with Santana. Now that Kurt’s taken care of
he really wants to make her come, never mind that Brittany’s already done it
twice. It’s the best thing about girls, that once you get them into the mood
they can stay there forever. Puck gets up and sits on the opposite corner of
the couch, where Brittany was twenty minutes ago. He’s got an idea, so he taps
Brittany on the shoulder. She immediately gets the tap out gesture. A bit of a
miracle, really. Once she crawls away he grabs Santana by the hips and hauls
her over and up until his face is right in her cunt. God bless cheerleaders and
their nimbleness.
Evidently he’s not the only one with ideas. The next thing he hears is Kurt’s
stammering. “What? Brittany what are-”
“You haven’t come twice yet. When you actually like someone you make them come
twice.”
“I’m gay.”
Puck would bet Santana’s rolling her eyes when she speaks up. “Just let her
try. Doesn’t mean you’re straight. You could never be straight.” Puck laughs
into her folds then adjusts his hands on her hips as she squirms. It must be
the vibrations. He’s never laughed a girl to orgasm before but he wants to try.
Puck eats her out through a third orgasm. Loving the way Santana clenches down
and tightens up he fingers her open through a fourth. She’s a wreck by the time
Kurt’s whimpering and Brittany lets out a triumphant “hah!”
He stops then, pulls away from her a few feet. He’s still hard, but he’s been
hard on and off since that first day. Puck can be the bigger man and let it go.
Insisting on more when the three of them are obviously done would just make him
a jerk. That’s something he tries not to be, here.
“So that was fucking amazing,” Santana says proudly, like the sex was all her
idea. “I need a cigarette.”
“I need a joint. I had sex with a girl, I need a joint the size of my arm.”
Brittany smiles, chin still wet from sloppily sucking dick. “Clowns stole my
papers. I can pack the bong?”
Puck grins. It’s a stubborn grin, whether or not anyone takes that meaning from
it. He refuses to regret this. If he has to be stoned from now until the day he
dies to not react negatively, that’s what he’ll do.
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