Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/292337.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Glee, Adam_Lambert_(Musician)
  Relationship:
      Adam_Lambert/Noah_Puckerman
  Character:
      Noah_Puckerman, Adam_Lambert, Burt_Hummel, Kurt_Hummel, Finn_Hudson,
      Tommy_Ratliff, Carole_Hudson-Hummel, Puck's_Sister_(Glee)
  Additional Tags:
      Donutverse, Dom/sub, Discipline, Slash, Romance, Drama, Music, Judaism,
      Puck_always_cries, Falling_In_Love, Podfic_Available
  Series:
      Part 11 of The_Donutverse
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-12-12 Completed: 2011-12-26 Chapters: 12/12 Words: 53138
****** The Breath Before the Phrase ******
by flinchflower, nubianamy
Summary
     Puck's heart is broken and he knows exactly what he needs - he just
     never thought he'd find it in a coffeehouse in Santa Fe. Puck/Adam
     Lambert. Dom/sub, discipline. Concurrent with Bending in the Archer's
     Hand.
Notes
     This started as a PWP prompt for some hot Puck/Adam action. I was,
     like, "Adam Lambert who?" So I listened to some of his music, read
     some interviews - and wrote 9,000 words without them even having
     kissed. It was then I knew Adam was going to impact the Donutverse in
     a big way.
     This story takes place during Bending in the Archer's Hand, story #8
     of the Glee Donutverse. If you haven't yet read any of the previous
     Donutverse stories, you have three options. One is to read the other
     stories first; links, summaries and suggested reading order can be
     found at http://gleeslash.livejournal.com/1418127.html. Two is to
     read the summary, found at http://archiveofourown.org/works/292318.
     Three is to blunder on bravely and deal with spoilers and confusing
     character references - and, trust me, there are lots and lots.
     This story contains, among other things, m/m sexual exploits,
     domestic discipline, Dominant/submissive dynamics, polyamory,
     schmoopy romance, unrealistic teenage dialogue, religious musings,
     singing, liberal use of the "f" word (Puck) and rather a lot more
     angst than I would have expected. No donuts, though there is a
     mention of cream-cheese brownies.
     Adam's album release, the 2009 American Music Awards and all the
     other current events referred to in this story were originally in
     November, but I had to move them to December to work for the
     Donutverse timeline, so thanks for extending some latitude there. Do
     note that Adam's an interesting person, but this is really just my
     own take on a possible incarnation of him, and no commentary on who
     he might be in real life. Also, Adam himself has stated he's not very
     Jewish, but it works for my purposes, so I went with that.
     If you've never fallen into Adam's rabbit hole, do take time during
     this story to watch the Youtube links and get to know his music; I
     hope you will be as astonished and mesmerized as I was at his talent.
     The music in this story, as is true for all my fiction, is completely
     inextricable from the story itself. I recommend you listen to the
     music as you read, if your brain works that way. You can find the
     Youtube playlist here: http://www.youtube.com/
     playlist?list=PLD240CD7441F64E8C
     Thank you, as always, to songirl77 for inspiration, beta-reading and
     tireless support. I couldn't have written this story without the
     support of my cowriter knittycat99. The two Tess chapters were a
     collaborative effort between myself and Flynn Anthony, and I'm
     tickled to note that Adam is now leaking over into all her 'verses as
     well. Thanks also to deeniebee for early read-throughs, fantastic
     encouragement and the suggestion for Sarah's pet name for Burt.
     I am very proud to present this story to you. Please, enjoy.
     -amy
***** Chapter 1 *****
Great music is personal and real.

- Adam Lambert, PopEater, February 2011
===============================================================================
CHAPTER ONE
The Santa Fe coffeehouse was pretty much exactly like all the other
coffeehouses Puck had visited over the past week – same muted hum of the
espresso machine, same smell of almonds and caramel syrup, same bored, black-
clad crowd – except for the security detail outside. Puck raised his arms,
bemused, as they patted him down his ribs and legs before giving him the green
light. He glanced around with suspicion.
"Why the goon squad?" he asked Nicole quietly. She grinned and hoisted her bass
over the table and settled it along the wall, safely out of the way of stepping
feet.
"That would be because of Adam," she said.
"Adam," he echoed.
"Lambert," she confirmed, pointing at the other end of the coffee shop. A young
man with black hair cut in an angular style was hunched over a steaming mug
across from a slim, gorgeous boy with a goatee. He wore a black t-shirt and a
heavy silver chain, and as Puck watched, he laughed at something the boy with
the goatee said.
"Is he wearing eyeliner?" Puck said, wrinkling his nose. "Dude."
"Don't you watch American Idol?" Nicole raised a pierced brow when he shrugged.
"You might be the only one who doesn't, then. I thought everybody knew who he
was by now. He was one of the final two contestants last year."
"I've been a little busy lately," Puck muttered, setting his own guitar case
down and snapping open the latches. He'd been playing the Taylor every day,
sometimes a couple times a day, for the past week, but he found himself wanting
it even more, almost to the point of craving it.
It reminded him of another craving, one he'd had for longer than a week, and
one that was not likely to be fulfilled in the near future. So you might as
well stuff those visions of being on your knees back into your head, where they
belong, he told himself sternly. It's just not fucking going to happen.
Having the Taylor in his hands made him feel safe, another familiar part of the
universal coffeehouse environment. As he played a few harmonics to check the
tuning, the dark-haired man – Adam – looked his way. He took in Puck's mohawk,
his leather jacket, the ripped jeans and boots, his guitar, his haunted eyes,
all in one glance. His lips tipped up in a surprisingly aware and understanding
smile.
Puck didn't smile back, but he thought he might consider it. He'd had precious
few reasons to smile over the past few days. His visit was nearly over; on
Sunday it would be time for him to head back to Ohio. But not to go home. No,
home was a concept that didn't exist for him anymore, and wouldn't likely have
again for a long while. He clutched the neck of his guitar and closed his eyes
as he was rocked by an unexpected blast of pain. It had been so long since he
hadn't hurt, it almost felt like the default setting, now, but sometimes it
just got unbearable.
"How about some coffee?" Nicole suggested, stroking the back of his neck with
one hand. He felt himself tense, then forced his shoulders to relax. His
instinct had said wrong hands,but that was silly, wasn't it? Nicole was his
lover as much as… as much as…
But he wasn't Puck's, anymore.
"Tea, please," he said dully. His fingers found the strings and picked a
default pattern, without him thinking about it. Freight train, freight train,
goin' so fast… He'd learned that when he was eight, when his brother still
lived at home, when his father was still wreaking havoc in his life. When he
still had a mother.
Then he realized he'd shifted to picking a different pattern on the strings,
Asus2, A, D, repeating endlessly… he hummed Kurt's melody, feeling the ache
penetrate his skin and set up residence in his gut. It wasn't possible for him
to play the other melody, the one that fit alongside it, that formed the
backbone, the structure around which the suspended chords made a perfect fit.
That melody had been relegated to his dreams, from which he always woke crying.
He was pretty sure he wouldn't ever play it again.
"Play it," said the boy with the goatee at the table with Adam, echoing Puck's
thoughts, and he looked up. Adam was declining politely, but he wasn't trying
very hard, and eventually he gave in, laughing.
"Okay, okay!" he said. "I'll play it. World premiere. No cameras, right?"
The words set off a flurry of action around Puck, and he realized at least a
quarter of the patrons in the coffeehouse must be part of the goon squad, too,
because they were checking the other three-quarters of the patrons for phones
and cameras. "All clear," said a woman with a nose ring and pink frizzy hair.
"Fine. You're such a bitch," he added to the boy with the goatee who hung on
Adam's arm like he owned him, and kissed his cheek with a smirk.
The boy scanned the tables. "Is Tommy going to play it, or do I need to scrape
up an accompanist from somewhere?"
Adam shook his head. "Tommy's at the hotel with a headache."
The boy cast his eyes around the coffeehouse and landed on Puck. "How about
him?" he said, jerking a thumb at him.
Adam's gaze met Puck's once more, and this time when he smiled, Puck nodded
back at him. "You read tablature?" Adam asked, his voice mild.
"Yeah," Puck replied cautiously. He wasn't sure he was up for anything much
beyond coffee tonight. Knowing he was going to have to get back on the road on
Sunday for the 23 hour drive was making him antsy.
Adam sorted through the papers in his satchel and came up with a sheaf of
tablature. "I've got a request," he said, with a conspiratorial smile at Puck,
and held out the papers. "Drake isn't going to leave me alone until I play him
this song. Technically I'm not supposed to play it live until December 18th,
but we've only got a few more days." He tipped his head at Puck. "You won't
tell, will you?"
"Dude, I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Puck said, leafing
through the tab, "but I can play whatever you want me to play. What's the
tempo?"
Adam broke into a couple bars of song, and the tables around them fell silent,
watching and listening. His voice was rich and vibrant. He'd give Mr. Schue a
run for his money, Puck thought, and laid the music on the table in front of
him, strumming tentatively at first, then with more confidence.
"That's it," Adam nodded, smiling in admiration. Drake came over and sat across
from them, clearly not liking the attention Adam was paying to Puck, but not
really having a leg to stand on, since they were just singing, for fuck's sake.
Puck gave him a smirk and considered rubbing up against Adam in a totally
inappropriate way, just to make Drake twitch.
Then Adam started to sing, and Puck just shut the hell up and listened.
http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=JKXyAJG5Wbo
Hey, slow it down

Whataya want from me

Yeah, I'm afraid

Whataya want from me
There might have been a time

When I would give myself away

Once upon a time

I didn't give a damn

But now here we are

So whataya want from me

Whataya want from me
Just don't give up

I'm working it out

Please don't give in

I won't let you down

It messed me up, need a second to breathe

Just keep coming around

Hey, whataya want from me

Whataya want from me
Adam's voice was liquid, with plenty of expression and an impressive range. The
song was simple, but Puck felt the lyrics resonate inside. When he began the
second verse, it was like Adam was holding up a mirror to the way things had
been, with Kurt and… other people… When he compared it to the way things looked
now, it made his chest tight.
Yeah, it's plain to see

That baby you're beautiful

And there's nothing wrong with you

It's me, I'm a freak

Yeah, thanks for lovin' me

Cause you're doing it perfectly
There might have been a time

When I would let you slip away

I wouldn't even try but I think

You could save my life
He ached, all the time – but this was like the worst kind of torture, Adam's
strong voice stripping off the barriers he'd erected, and here he was, in a
fucking Santa Fe coffeehouse, playing guitar for some pop star, and feeling the
tears lurking behind the thin veneer of self-control he had left.
Just don't give up

I'm workin' it out

Please don't give in

I won't let you down –
Adam stopped singing and put a concerned hand on Puck's shoulder. "Are you
okay, kid?" he said, softly, and that was more than Puck could handle. He
cradled his Taylor close to his chest and made a dash for the door, pushing
past Nicole and the startled security, out into the cool December desert night.
It was chilly enough that there weren't many people outside, other than Adam's
goons, so Puck could have his freak-out in private.
It was short-lived privacy. Puck felt a touch, and when he tried to brush it
off, the soft voice was back, disarming him: "Hey, kid, I'm sorry, whatever it
was – I didn't mean to open old wounds or whatever."
"No," Puck said, with a bitter chuckle; "believe me, they're pretty new wounds.
It's okay. I'm – I didn't know it was gonna affect me like that. Those lyrics…
fuck, man."
He heard the smile in Adam's voice. "Hey, that's good, though. Music should
affect you, touch you, or why bother?" He hesitated. "Was that your girlfriend
inside? You want me to get her for you?"
"Puck." The deep voice, as always, made his heart stand still just for a
moment, and he stiffened, straightening his back and coming to attention. Adam
took this in, and he stepped back a few paces, watching the big man approach.
Alex couldn't avoid drawing attention if he tried, with his back-length red
curls and his barrel chest.
"Sir," Puck whispered.
"Nicole said you were upset," he said, but did not approach. "Do you need to go
home?"
"No, sir, thank you," he said, flickering eyes to Adam, whose face was
registering understanding on a different level than Puck had expected. Puck
knew he had every right to feel anxious about having a stranger witness this,
but all he felt was calm and protected in Alex's presence.
Alex regarded Adam with impassive judgment. "He's been through a lot lately,"
he said, and Adam nodded slowly.
"I think – I can be of help," he said, and Puck jerked his eyes up to the dark-
haired man's, which were suddenly topaz and glittering in the light of the
street. "If it's desired."
"That's up to Puck," Alex said, dismissively. "He's a grown boy. He can make
his own decisions about that."
But I can't, not always, Puck thought desperately, even as he glowed with the
praise from his lover. No one else had ever treated him so much like a man as
Alex had. He curled himself more tightly around his guitar and wiped his eyes
on the side of his hand.
"He needs – a firm hand," Alex added, and Adam hummed understanding, crossing
his arms across his chest. He suddenly reminded Puck strikingly of Kurt, and he
felt the ache return, doubled. He heard himself make a quiet noise.
"I think we can start with just talking," Adam suggested, and he put a hand on
Puck's arm, tugging him back toward the coffeehouse. "But I appreciate the...
insight, and also knowing he's got his freedom to make decisions for himself."
"He's always had that capability." Alex did approach now, and put a big, warm
hand on the small of Puck's back. Puck felt the curtain of submission overtake
him, and he closed his eyes, wondering vaguely if this was a good idea, but
trusting Alex to take care of him.
"You want this?" Alex asked in a low voice, against Puck's head. It was just
loud enough for Puck to hear, and it made him shiver.
"I –" Puck felt his brow contract, and his gaze was drawn down the neck of his
guitar to where Adam stood, watching him. His face was enigmatic, but he wasn't
looking away.
"I can take you home now," Alex went on, just a murmur in his ear. "You know
I'll take care of you. But – you get to choose, freely, and no matter what you
pick, we will all love you just the same."
He's not Kurt, he made himself think. No matter how much he reminds you of him,
he's not him. You'll see him in three days. You don't even know for sure if
Kurt – that he doesn't – he might still –He took a shuddering breath. Adam's
hand was warm on his arm.
"I want to stay," he said, and his voice was small and plaintive, and not at
all like his.
Alex's hand swept up to his neck and, briefly, tightened there. "You will call
me, tonight, and let me know where you are."
"Yes sir," Puck said quickly.
"And I'll expect to see you tomorrow, if you don't end up staying with us,
before you drive home." Lips pressed to his forehead, and Alex patted his
bottom, once. Again, the thought passed through his mind that he should have
been mortified, but Adam just smiled faintly and nodded at Alex.
"Trust me, this is about the safest place in the country right now," Adam said,
and he sounded so amused and wry and normal that Puck felt at ease. "After some
of the homophobic threats people have made against me, my security's on alert,
and they'll be watching me and everyone else who comes through here."
Puck wanted to say he understood, that it was all right, that he felt safe, but
the truth was he wasn't at all sure it was all right. It wasn't Adam – not
precisely. It was him, Puck himself, that wasn't all right. And any idiot who
wants me, he thought. Whatever they want – they deserve what they get.
"I could use a fucking drink," he muttered, and Adam chuckled, his hand on
Puck's arm guiding him without seeming to as they walked together back to the
warmth of the coffee shop.
"How about something sweet?" Adam suggested. Puck's mouth twitched into
something approximating a smile, and he looked sideways at the dark-haired man.
Adam's lips parted and he tilted his head at the unspoken innuendo, but again,
he didn't look away. Puck liked that he didn't.
"I'm a little… picky… about the things I put into my body," Puck said at last.
"Most of them I cook or bake myself."
Adam nodded and held open the door for Puck, swinging it wide to make room for
his guitar. "I got that… but you can't depend on yourself all the time.
Sometimes, you have to trust someone else to take care of you."
Stepping through the door, Puck had to step in close to fit as others were on
their way out, and his chest brushed Adam's. He saw the boy with the goatee,
Drake, give an angry start, at the same time that someone from the goon squad
made a move toward them, but Adam held out a hand that seemed to be sufficient
to quell both his security and the jealous… lover?
"Your pretty boy's not happy with this," Puck observed, nodding at Drake. He
paused in the doorway, facing Adam, tilting his head up to meet his astonishing
blue eyes.
Adam laughed. "Drake's not my keeper. He'll deal. And you're much prettier than
he is. What about your girlfriend? She's watching you like a hawk."
"Just being Alex's eyes when he's not here," Puck shrugged. "They all – they
kind of come as a set, Alex and Nicole."
"And you? You're part of the set?" Adam looked curious, but Puck shook his
head.
"I've got – my own set. Back home. I'm just visiting."
They took a seat across a tiny table in the back. It was funny how Adam just
walking through the place cleared a space for them to be, everyone else making
room for him, as though he had an invisible circle of privacy around him. Puck
was glad to be the only one allowed inside, as Drake seemed to have given up,
and everyone else in the coffee house looked a little awed to even be across
the room from him. Adam's curiosity had increased, though, and it was all
trained on Puck.
"Your own set of what?" he said. Puck hesitated for only a moment before
pulling out his phone and bringing up his favorite photo of Kurt and Finn,
sleeping curled up together in Finn's guest room bed, looking very much the
picture of two people in love. Adam made a cooing noise when he saw it, and he
put a hand to his mouth in a gesture that was so Kurt that Puck felt his chin
wobble. He took a deep breath and didn't look at the picture.
"My God, they're beautiful," Adam whispered, touching Finn, then Kurt, and
finally passed the phone back to Puck. Their hands brushed, and Puck took his
time ending the contact.
"Yeah, well… we'll see if they still want to see me at all when I get back into
town. Finn, he made it pretty clear we were through. And Kurt… "
"You love them." Adam wasn't asking. "That can fill in a lot of holes, even
when you've made the holes yourself. I've been there… though it's been a
while."
"Drake…?" Puck gestured at him, now sitting mere inches from a tall boy and
trading smiles. Adam shook his head and glanced at his lap.
"No, I'm single. Things with Drake were too hectic; the press had a field day
when we were together, and I don't want to put anyone else through that.
Speaking of press…" Adam grimaced. "You should be prepared. I hope we've
cleared out this place pretty well, but there's always the possibility of
photos getting leaked, or something."
Puck imagined what Kurt would probably say if he knew he was having coffee with
a pop star from American Idol, and he grinned. "Hey, I don't fucking care what
people say about me. They can think what they want, because they're probably
wrong."
"A complex man," Adam said, grinning back. "I appreciate that. And a brave man.
Also a worthwhile attribute."
"Brave, I don't know." Puck thought this over while Adam ordered a double mocha
latte. He shook his head when Adam offered him one.
"Come on," he wheedled, taking Puck's hand across the table. "You said you
wanted a drink. The drug of choice here? Caffeine. Everybody's doing it."
"Darjeeling," Puck said to the waitress, giving in, and his hand tingled when
Adam squeezed it. "Dude - that's not exactly what I had in mind when I said a
drink."
Adam coughed delicately and let his eyes wander around the coffee house. "I
haven't been forward enough to ask your exact age," he said, "and honestly?
It's probably better I don't know. But I'm certain you're not twenty-one."
"My ID says I am," Puck contested, and Adam dissolved into fucking adorable
giggles.
"Does your ID also include the name 'Puck?'" he countered. "Because that? Super
cute to be named after a famous fairy."
"It's part of my last name," Puck explained. "My real first name is…" He
hesitated, thinking of the last time he'd heard the name, in bed with Kurt, the
way he'd moaned it aloud, repeating it over and over… "Noah. I'm Noah."
"Mmmmm," Adam approved. "A good Jewish name." He ran a thumb over Puck's,
tracing the muscles in his hand, the calluses on the pads of his fingers.
"You're quite a guitarist, Noah."
They let go when the waitress brought their drinks, Puck thanking her for the
offered cream, and appreciating the presspot. "You've got to add the cream
first," he explained, pouring it into his cup, letting his tea steep.
"You weren't kidding about being a food snob." Adam pointed at the glass pastry
case across the room. "Are you willing to let me get you a scone or something
to go with that?"
"I'm not hungry," he said, but he caught Adam's expression, sensual lips
pressed together in amusement, dark-lined eyes watching him, and he felt
compelled to add, "for a scone. Maybe one of those cream cheese brownies."
"Good man," Adam approved. "I was hoping to feed you little pieces with my
fingers across the table, just to piss Drake off."
"Uh," Puck blinked, and Adam lost it again, pressing a hand to his mouth to
cover the giggles. Puck gave himself a stern reminder – not Kurt – and grabbed
Adam's hand again. "If you want to."
Adam looked a little surprised, but he recovered quickly, sipping his mocha
with his free hand. "Oh, sweetheart, there's lots I want to."
Puck stiffened and closed his eyes, flinching away involuntarily. When he
opened them again, Adam was watching him anxiously, hands steepled in front of
his mouth. "Too much?" he guessed.
"No – just the 'sweetheart,'" Puck said, through gritted teeth. "I can't – only
–" Only Kurt gets to call me that.
"Of course," he soothed. "It's me. I'm a little familiar with people. I'll try
again." He watched while Puck poured his tea, properly steeped for three
minutes, with shaking hands. "Why don't you play me something on that guitar."
"Sure," Puck agreed, feeling calmer already as he touched the Taylor's neck.
Adam's smiling response made him calmer still, and he strummed a few chords.
"What do you want to hear?"
"Hey, I don't know. Do you sing?" Puck nodded, and Adam smiled bigger.
"Fabulous. Well… you heard what I've got. I can't play guitar or anything worth
a damn, so you're one up on me."
"Dude, you're fucking awesome," Puck protested. "I don't think it's really a
competition."
"Dude," Adam mocked, and Puck laughed, making Adam's eyes go soft. "I like that
laugh. All right, just play me something amazing, then. Don't worry about
what."
Puck ran his hand over his mohawk and, after a thought, launched into one of
his favorite Steve Howe solo guitar pieces, Mood for a Day. It was technically
challenging, but he'd practiced it a million times, and it was one of the best
pieces for showing off his classical technique.
http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=FP7J8ONfIfs
He enjoyed seeing Adam's expression go from polite to surprised, and then, even
better, a little hungry. Yeah, he thought with satisfaction. I can make guys
cream their pants, too.The conversations around them had gone silent, and they
were all listening to Puck play as attentively as though he'd been a performer
at an open mic.
He saw Nicole on the other side of the room, watching him, and it made him
relax a little more when she caught his eye and pointed at Adam and mouthed the
word hot! He felt his face heat up, but he nodded in return, because, eyeliner
notwithstanding, there was no fucking doubt about that.
When he was done, Adam started clapping, and a couple other people around them
clapped, too. Puck was flushed with success and the heat of the moment, and he
sipped his tea before suggesting, "Maybe I should get that brownie now."
Adam laughed and nibbled at his lip. "If that'swhere you are, we should get out
of here before we do something in public we'll regret." He put his hand in his
pocket momentarily, then reached for Puck's hand across the table, shaking it,
and when he let go, there was a piece of paper there.
"Just in case I get followed by the press," Adam whispered. "I'll go now. You
come in about ten minutes. And bring the guitar – I still want to hear you
sing."
Puck nodded, watching him as he gulped back the rest of his mocha and pushed
his chair out. He moved with an easy grace, but still seemed surprisingly
ordinary. I met this guy at the coffee shop, he imagined saying. His name was
Adam. He was pretty hot. He reminded me of you, baby.
Adam wasn't even all the way out the door before Puck was pressing a hand to
his mouth, the tears already streaming down his face. Nicole was there, right
behind him, her slender arms wrapping around his neck as she drew him into a
hug. "Jesus," she sighed. "Did he brush you off? I thought that song was
inspired. He doesn't know what he's missing."
"No, it's not that." Puck rubbed his face on his arm in frustration. "I'm –
it's Kurt, Nicole. I just miss him so fucking much."
She watched him unhappily. "You know, it's kind of bad form to sleep with
someone and pretend he's someone else."
"Who said I was planning to sleep with him?" he snapped, glaring ferociously at
the cup of tea.
"Oh, Puck, you didn't have to," she said. "I got it. I know how you're feeling
– you just better be really clear with yourself, and him, why you're doing it."
Puck found some little crumbs of biscotti on the table, left over from Adam's
mocha. He pulverized them with the side of his thumb. "Why am I doing it?"
"Well, for one thing, hot." She grinned at him. "Let's not pretend that's not a
big part of it, okay? The rest – well. Only you know for sure, but I can guess.
He reminds you of Kurt. He's got something you want. He's famous."
"I don't care about that," he objected.
"The rest, though." She shrugged. "Do you need more than that?"
He put his head on the table, cradling his guitar. "Fuck me," he moaned. "I
just feel like a total – I mean, why would I go looking for another guy when I
have youand Alex and Daph –"
"Because attraction doesn't work that way," she said patiently. "You want what
you want. It doesn't mean you stop wanting the other things. And it doesn'tmean
anything bad about you, okay?" She kicked him under the table. "Stop judging
yourself by society's fucked up moral standards. You know better than that.
Just honor your desires. Right?"
"Right – okay, okay!" He shielded himself from further kicks, but he was
smiling now. "You know best."
"Fucking right I do. Well, I guess it's a moot point, since he took off, but –
"
"Um," he said, holding up the paper. When he unfolded it, it turned out to be
directions to his hotel, and a phone number.
Nicole's eyes widened, and she glanced around the coffee house. "Do not let
anybody else have that," she whispered. "I bet some rabid fans would give
various body parts for it."
"Whatever," he said. "He's just a guy. Okay, yeah, he's hot." He found himself
standing, feeling more himself than he had in days. "I guess – I want this.
Whatever this is."
"Don't forget to call," she reminded him, kissing him thoroughly. "I can't be
held responsible for what Alex might do to you if you forget."
===============================================================================
Your skin is burning at the sight of me

Your mask can't hide what you're thinking

Don't ask, don't tell

Just take what you need

I'm an open book

So go on and take a look
- Adam Lambert, "Master Plan"
***** Chapter 2 *****
I've had my heart broken. I've chased after people and had it not work out.
Throughout my entire 20s, I've wanted to be in love. That's what I want. I
think everybody deserves that. And I've only been in love once. So I'm still
looking.
- Adam Lambert, ABC 20/20, June 2009
===============================================================================
CHAPTER TWO
It took far longer for Puck to make it to the Hotel Eldorado than it probably
should have. Only part of it was due to Puck's reticence.
First, he stopped at the chain bookstore and asked the guy at the music counter
for a copy Adam Lambert's album. He was startled to have the guy toss a bored
gesture at a big display sign announcing the release date – in three days –
complete with a huge, blow-up picture of Adam in makeup, jewelry and purple
incandescent lighting. He stared at the picture, perplexed, for so long that
the guy asked him, "You like this stuff?"
"What… stuff?" he asked, trying to sound dangerous.
"Just – the glam rock business. It's a little over the top, isn't it?"
"Dude," Puck grinned. "You look old enough to remember the 80s. Hair bands?
He's just David Bowie all over again. Rock's been kind of boring since then. I
think we're about due for some over the top."
The guy looked uncomfortable. "He's just – kind of – sparkly."
"More sparkly than Edward the vampire," Puck agreed. "And apparently, chicks
dig that. Why the fuck not?"
Then he stopped at the drugstore and picked up a few key items, things he
hadn't used with Kurt or… or Finn, but that they'd agreed they would use
with other people. Not that had was absolutely planning to stick his dick in
anything other than his own hand, or have any other dicks stuck anywhere, but…
Then he sat in the hotel parking lot for a little while, breathing, closing his
eyes, trying to feel anything other than like a great big jerk. The message
from his heart was: you're cheating on your boyfriend, but the language in his
head was: you're a fucking slut – and not even an ethical one.
Finally he took his phone out of his pocket, and, slowly, he typed out a text.
Baby, I miss you so much.
It was the first direct communication he'd had with Kurt since he left Lima a
week ago. It was only two hours later there, and it was a Friday, so the
chances were pretty good that Kurt would be awake and would get the text. It
would be easier if he could just call him, but he had the feeling that hearing
Kurt cry on the phone would leave him incapable of driving, or anything else
that required higher brain function.
Sure enough, it was only a few moments after he texted that he got a response,
and it hit him like a crumbling brick wall:
Noah, sweetheart, where are you? We've been going crazy with worry. I miss you
so much too. You didn't have to leave. I love you, sweetheart.
He heard every word, in Kurt's voice, in his head, and didn't even have to read
between the lines to notice that "we" were worried but "I" missed and loved
him. Finn either wasn't there or he wasn't responding. It shouldn't have been a
surprise, but it still hurt way too fucking much.
I did have to, he replied when he had regained enough control to read the
screen. I told sarah I would be fine. pls don't call. be back in town soon.
Okay, he read instantly, and immediately felt a huge weight lift off him. He
took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then: Can't you at least tell me where
you are right now? I just want to know.
He hesitated, then typed, in santa fe visiting A,N and D. Before he could get a
reply to that, he sent: I met a guy tonight. he kind of reminds me of you.
The pause was longer this time, and he chewed his finger, waiting.
Finally, it came: Sweetheart, are you being safe?
Yes, he said, as truthfully as he knew how. He blew his nose on a paper napkin.
He felt a leaping in his heart at the next words: Am I still your baby?
Always, he promised, fervently hoping Kurt could believe him, in the face of
his abandonment. He added, be back in ohio before christmas.
Puck didn't promise to cook dinner for everybody, though he wanted to. He
didn't promise to see Kurt, though he needed to. He didn't promise anything he
couldn't do. He wasn't sure if that would be enough, but Kurt's last text gave
him hope:
Just come home. I'll be waiting for you.
He typed the number from the paper Adam had given him into his phone, and
pressed send, listening to the ring with equal amounts of anticipation and
dread.
"It's me," said the voice. "It's weird to get a call - nobody has this number."
"I bet," Puck said, his voice low.
"Before you come up here, just tell me something." Adam sounded – not nervous,
no, but apprehensive, kind of, as though he were questioning his own judgment.
"What?"
"You're seventeen, right?"
Not until summer, Puck wanted to say, but instead he said, "Yeah, of course."
Adam sighed. "Hell, kid. I don't know. My bassist has been trying to talk me
out of inviting you up for the last half hour."
"I'm – look, I'm taking off back to Ohio on Sunday," Puck said. "You'll never
see me again. I don't fucking care who you are – I just think – I just want to
see what happens, okay?"
"You know, I love that you don't know who I am," Adam said, and Puck could hear
the grin over the phone. "You've got no expectations."
"Not exactly," he agreed. "Well, except... you do like guys, right?"
That made Adam laugh, and Puck felt himself flush at the sound. "Yeah," Adam
said. "I like you. You're cute."
"You, uh, said." He glanced at the box of condoms, then opened it, tearing off
a strip and shoving them in the pocket of his jeans. "You saw Alex. The guy
with the red hair."
"I don't think I could have not seen him. What is he, 6'5"?"
"Something like that." Puck hesitated on the next words. "He's kind of… well,
he's like my…"
"I get it, kid," Adam said, sounding amused. "I might get it better than you
do."
Maybe you do, Puck thought, remembering how Adam hadn't seemed at all surprised
by his interaction with Alex. He tried again: "But he's not, really. My, uh,
Finn – at home, he's, like, in charge. But… he told me… he was done with me."
The last was in a whisper. He could barely hold that memory in his head.
"Ouch," Adam said. "You're an open box?"
"A what?"
"A bottom without a Top."
Puck tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a sob. "Fuck," he
swore, scrubbing at his face. "Maybe… maybe I shouldn't come up. This hurts too
fucking much."
"Kid," Adam said, very distinctly, "if you want to play that way, you can bet
you're going to hurt a lot more before we're done."
Puck's breath stopped for a moment, and he felt a sudden steaming rush
of need, bigger than he ever would have expected. "Oh," he said.
"So what's it going to be? Are we going to cuddle naked by the fire and sing
songs all night? Or are you looking for something a little more… focused… than
that? I'm fine either way, but it'd be nice to know which one you want."
"You've got a fireplace up there?" Puck couldn't help but ask.
"Noah…" The Voice was unmistakable, and it made him flinch. "Are you going to
listen to me?"
"Yes sir," he whispered.
"Hmmm. As much as you're an open box, I get that you're still attached to
someone… and I doubt your redhead would appreciate you calling me that. How
about we stick with Adam?"
"Okay…" Puck said. "Adam."
He heard a long sigh. "All right, kid. I don't know if I'm going to regret
this, but… I'm in room 614. I'll have someone waiting for you in the hallway
upstairs."
The call disconnected, and Puck realized he was not only dizzy and shaking, he
was completely, achingly hard. He thought, I wonder if he's going to – and
realized, if he completed that thought, he might come right there. Instead, he
got out of his truck, picked up his guitar and walked, as best he could, into
the lobby of the hotel.
"Can I help you?" asked the concierge.
"Room 614, please," he said. She hesitated, and he added, "He said he'd have
someone upstairs to meet me."
She blinked, but said, "Of course – let me show you to the elevator." She spoke
quietly into a walkie-talkie, and Puck followed.
In the battle of anticipation vs. dread, anticipation won. I can't leave
without finding out what might happen next, he thought, and licked his lips as
the elevator doors closed.
===============================================================================
Going down the rabbit hole
 Get away from all we know
 Come on, follow
 Come on and follow me
- Adam Lambert, "Down the Rabbit Hole"
***** Chapter 3 *****
The thing about kissing somebody is that you know if the person wants to be
kissed or not. I would never kiss anybody who didn't want to be kissed. The
people I kiss are the people who give me that eye the entire night. I would
never force myself on anybody.
 - Adam Lambert, Showbiz Spy, August 2010
===============================================================================
CHAPTER THREE
The woman who met him on the sixth floor was small and unassuming, but Puck
guessed she was a badass by the way she didn't even hesitate to pat him down
all over, even the really intimate parts. He supposed he should be embarrassed
by her feeling his obvious arousal, but she didn't react.
"Mr. Lambert is waiting inside," she said, indicating the door marked 614. "Do
you need anything?"
"Uh," he said, trying to think of an awesome smart-ass remark, but apparently
all the blood from his brain was busy elsewhere. "I'm good," he finally settled
on.
She nodded and waited while he stood in front of the door, trying to get up his
courage. After a minute or two, she cleared her throat.
"Do you want me to get the door for you?" she asked, clearly irritated. He
shuffled his feet and switched his guitar case into his other hand.
"I'm… I'm just thinking," he muttered.
She sighed and crossed her arms. "You've got nothing to worry about from Adam.
He's a nice guy – seriously. It's not an act."
Really. How much of what I've seen already isn't an act? He just nodded and
tried to be patient with himself, and with Adam, and this whole fucking
situation. Finally he turned the knob and, with a deep breath, stepped inside.
"Holy shit," he blurted, first thing. "There really is a fireplace up here."
"I know, right?" Adam grinned. "I stay in so many crap hotels, it's nice
sometimes to find… something special." He raised one dark eyebrow and held out
a hand. When Puck took it, the other eyebrow went up. "I was really reaching
for your guitar," he said softly. "But... I'll take your hand."
He led Puck into the room and gestured for him to set his guitar down by the
balcony. Puck took a glance out the glass door; the view from the 6th floor was
pretty, but not spectacular. The fireplace, on the other hand, was an adobe
wood-burning setup, two logs already crackling away inside.
"I like the fireplace so much, I keep using up all the wood," Adam said,
popping open a can of something fizzy. "It's good it's cold out. Well, colder
than Hollywood, anyway."
"What are you doing in Santa Fe?" Puck asked, taking off his jacket and draping
it over the chair. He was glad for the fireplace – the room was chilly.
"My drummer has family here. We're getting ready to do the American Music
Awards in a few days, and our performance schedule after that is just crazy, so
this was going to be the last chance before the new year for him to get away."
He shrugged, a simple movement with a complex meaning. "Lucky me."
Puck stared at the inside of Adam's wrist, where a stylized eye and a figure 8
were drawn. He reached out to touch them before he realized he was doing it,
but Adam just smiled and stepped in closer to show Puck the tattoos. "This is
the Eye of Horus," he said. "It's a magical symbol of protection."
"This one. Infinity." Puck traced the figure 8, in a neverending pattern, and
was gratified to see Adam shiver.
"Yeah… infinite expression, infinite love, connection to the Universe." He put
his hand on Puck's, stilling his finger. "It's what I'm trying to convey with
my music, all the time. Money, fame, sex – it doesn't mean anything without
love."
"Love - is that what you're looking for here?" Puck's voice was low. "Cause I'm
not sure I'm up for that, man."
"You're up for it," Adam said. "Trust me. You're up for it if I say you are."
Now it was Puck's turn to shiver, leaning into Adam's black-clad form, feeling
the heat of his chest, the rise and fall of his breath. "I left… love… in Ohio,
to come here. For this?"
"Apparently," Adam said. "Again – for whatever reason – lucky me." He tipped
Puck's face up, gently, insistently. "Love takes many forms," he whispered into
Puck's open mouth, and placed warm, soft lips on his.
It began gently, anyway – until Puck made a whine in the back of his throat and
thrust his tongue into Adam's mouth. Adam responded with equal heat, but after
several seconds of the tension building, Puck was the one to break away,
staring up at Adam with panting, desperate confusion.
"Okay," Adam said, his voice hoarse, "okay, don't worry, kid. You're gonna be
fine." He tried to pull Puck back against his chest, but Puck resisted, taking
a step away. Adam nodded, slowly, and held up his hands.
"Can you believe I'm not interested in pushing you?" he said softly. "If you
don't know what you want, it's better we don't. So – take your time."
It was probably the best thing he could have said. It was as though Adam had
rewound the tape, back to when he'd walked in – a do-over, of sorts. In fact,
if Puck couldn't still taste Adam's mouth on his, bubbly and clean, like club
soda, he might have thought he'd dreamed their kiss. First kiss… but hopefully
not our last, Puck found himself thinking, and realized that whatever else he
was feeling, he didn't want to take his time. He stepped back into Adam's
startled embrace.
This time he put his hands on Adam, allowing himself to trace the unfamiliar
contours of Adam's shoulders, to curve around to his broad back, to feel the
clipped hair of his stylized cut, which – Puck realized with a start – was
really a long mohawk. He plunged his fingers into the silky hair and found
himself comparing it to Kurt's (there was really no comparison, he decided, but
no wonder when he considered all the time and product Kurt spent on his), and
Adam chuckled his approval as Puck pulled him back down into another kiss.
"Better," Adam said, his breath feather-light, and ran his hands under Puck's
t-shirt. Obediently, Puck raised his arms over his head and let Adam strip it
off. He trailed fingers along Puck's abs, making approving noises. "My
goodness; somebody's been working out."
"Glad you like," Puck said, and he was glad, wanted more than he could explain
to get approval from this glamorous man with the compelling eyes. He hesitantly
tugged at Adam's black shirt, but Adam moved his hand away, smiling.
"I'm going to stay like this for a while," he said. His musical voice was warm
and calm, and Puck felt comforted by his confidence. He dropped onto to the
couch, reclining on his side, propped up on one elbow. "You're delicious. I
just want to enjoy you."
Puck was, as always, happy to be enjoyed, and he grinned at Adam, striking his
most appealing pose. "How old are you?" he wanted to know.
"Not so old," Adam said, tipping his head and rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
"I had twenty-seven candles on my cake this January."
"No big," Puck shrugged. He'd had cougars more than twice his age, and Alex was
thirty-seven this year.
"And I won't make you tell me the truth about how old you are, either," he
said. "But I'd prefer you not lie to me about anything else. Understood?"
"Yes… Adam," he said, abashed. He thought he pulled off college-age pretty
convincingly, but apparently Adam had seen right through that façade. "Sorry,"
he added.
Adam's smile was like a reward, and Puck felt better. "Honey, you're just too
much. You'd better be careful who you put that sweet trust in. You could get
seriously hurt if you go handing it out to just anybody."
"Been there, done that," he muttered, glancing down. "You think… I shouldn't
trust you?"
"Maybe," Adam allowed. "Though your redhead seemed to think I was trustworthy."
Puck nodded. He always felt safe trusting Alex. "That's good enough for me, I
think. He's kind of psychic."
"Really? Hmmm." Adam's expressive eyebrows did a dance on his forehead. "Well,
as intriguing as he is, I think I want to hear about your guy at home."
"Kurt?" It was strange to speak his name, in the presence of this man - who,
while he certainly wasn't just like him, was possessed of enough similarities
to make memories of Kurt sharp and sweet, like a slice of key lime pie.
Adam's mouth twisted. "Yeah, him. Why aren't you there, if he's so great?"
"You seriously don't need to hear that whole story," Puck said. "I fucked up; I
skipped town; now I'm going home to try to fix it. Good enough?"
Ice blue eyes flashed from Puck's bare chest to the jeans he still wore. "Well…
that depends on what you're looking for here. Do you expect me to screw the
guilt out of you, or am I pulling out other tools?"
Puck suddenly felt a chill down his spine, and he shuddered. "Uh…"
"Seriously," Adam said, entirely calm. He gestured expressively with his hand;
Puck watched the tattoos on his wrist dance. "You want any kind of a good time
tonight, and the guilt has to go. It's really not helping you any, and it's
just going to piss me off."
"Look, I've been trying," Puck protested, throwing out his hands. "What do you
want from me?"
"That's my line," Adam said, shaking his head. "But as long as you're asking…
would you come here?" He beckoned, rolling to a sitting position, and patted
the cushion next to him. Puck moved slowly, reluctantly. "Come on – I'm not
going to hurt you."
Why do I have trouble believing that? Puck thought, and sighed, sinking onto
the couch. Adam's warm hand hovered over the back of his neck, to his spine,
and finally settled on the small of his back. He gasped at the touch, feeling
it echo inside him, surprised at how right it felt.
"You know what you need, Noah," Adam said.
"No," he said miserably. "I don't. That's the worst part. All the people who've
helped me figure those things out are in Ohio, and I thought I could get it
from Alex but he's refusing until I can… until I…"
"Well, then, you've got to at least know what you did wrong," he pressed. "What
is it?"
"You want me to write you a fucking list?"
"If you're into that," Adam said, considering. "But I'm thinking you'd do
better to be put in the corner for a half hour while you think about it."
"I… what?"
He snapped his fingers. "Come on. Pants, shoes, socks – off. Keep your shorts
on."
Puck would have staggered if he hadn't been sitting on the couch, and whoa, how
had his jeans come off so fast? He shucked them in a pile with his boots and
socks and, when Adam rose, he rose with him, to follow, without knowing exactly
why.
"You know how to kneel without letting your legs go to sleep?" Adam asked, and
Puck nodded. "How about we keep it verbal? Say, 'Yes, Adam.'"
"Yes, Adam," he said, mystified. What am I doing?
"Okay, then, get comfortable." Adam gestured toward the corner of the room
across from the fireplace. There was nothing there but a blank wall. Puck
stared at him in confusion, and Adam sighed in exasperation. "God, didn't your
Top teach you anything? Face the corner. Get down on your knees."
Puck sank to the floor, uncertainty giving way to irritation. Don't pick on
Finn that way, he wanted to say, but the truth was, Finn hadn't known what the
fuck he was doing any more than Puck did. It was the most bizarre feeling to be
sitting in the corner of a stranger's hotel room, looking at the wall.
He felt Adam's hand on his shoulder. "You're lovely, Noah," he said, "but we're
not going any further until you start telling me the truth about what you did.
Take some time to think it through. We'll talk in a half hour."
You want me to stare at the wall for a fucking half hour? he wanted to yell,
but his mouth opened, and he said, "Yes, Adam," and he didn't move his eyes
from the spot where the carpet met the wall.
He heard him moving around in the kitchenette, heard water being poured, was
suddenly thirsty, but didn't want to ask for a drink. You don't have to do
this, he told himself, and sat very still, as still as he could manage. He
doesn't have any power over you. You can get up and move any fucking time you
want.
The room was quiet for a little while. He thought Adam might have gone out, but
then he heard water running and realized he was taking a shower. Puck's
imagination made pretty pictures with that one, but he couldn't concentrate on
the fantasy.
The truth about what you did, Adam had said. What he'd done... he wasn't sure
if he could think about that. It wasn't as though he felt bad, exactly, about
getting Quinn to sign the papers. That had simply been necessary. Finn had
never understood – he hadn't even wanted to listen.
He wasn't ever going to, now.
Screw this… I'm DONE with you. Finn's exact words, echoing forever in his head,
the words he'd spat at Puck right after he'd kicked the crap out of him. Just
as he'd promised he would.
He wasn't sure how much time had gone by when Adam came back, but the front of
his shirt was soaked, and the silent tears were starting to feel like they were
choking him. Even Adam's arms holding him, his warm voice saying, "Okay, now,
you can let it go, honey, it's all right," didn't bring him back into himself.
It wasn't until he felt Adam's hand on the back of his neck, gripping tight,
promising guidance, that he let himself open up. Then he was kissing him,
desperately, moaning wordless need into his mouth.
"That's it," Adam encouraged. "Just be here with me. I'm right here."
Puck took gulping breaths as he rested his head against Adam's, eyes on his
neck. Adam's ears were pierced, gauged wide into gaping holes, with a second
piercing in the right earlobe. Somehow looking at those pieces of metal in his
flesh helped Puck feel calmer, and he put a finger up to touch Adam's ear. Adam
responded with a gentle gasp and tipped his head back, eyes closing. Puck had
to feel that gauged hole with his tongue - he had to.
"Noah," Adam said, firmly, but his voice was alight with tension. "Wait. We
have to do this first." His hand brushed Puck's cheek gently. "What happened?
You love him, don't you?"
"Yes," he said, the sobs lurking, just barely in check, behind his voice. "I l-
love them. Both of them."
"I got that, honey. So what was so bad that you had to leave two people you
love so dearly?"
The story came out, in fits and starts at first, then more quickly, until it
was as though the dam had burst and the words were flowing like water, while
Adam held him there on the floor, letting him talk for several long minutes. He
told Adam about the baby, and Finn saying no, you can't have this – you have to
put it down and walk away. He listened well, making noises in appropriate
places, but never interrupting, never making Puck feel like he was being
judged, not even when he told about the lies. So many lies… so many.
When the words ran dry, Puck felt lighter somehow. He'd talked to Toby about
it, and that had helped a little, but this... It was as though he'd been
carrying it around in a bucket for the past weeks, and now, now that someone
knew the whole thing, he could pour it out. All of it. And Adam was
still there, still touching his face like that, still listening
compassionately, still waiting.
"Why are you still here?" he blurted. "Why haven't you left me?"
"Because I'm not going to," Adam said, his voice impossibly tender and loving.
"I'm going to take care of this. Are you ready for that? Do you want to stop
feeling bad about this, for good?"
Puck felt his gut drop into his cock, and he nodded, wide eyed. "Yes –
yes. Please. Just tell me what to do."
"Come here," he said, and he helped Puck move with him to the couch. He wiped
Puck's nose and eyes and put a glass of water in his hand. "Drink that." Puck
did, feeling suddenly parched after all those tears. "Now…" He set the empty
glass aside and took both Puck's hands in his. It seemed oddly ceremonial. Adam
wore a blue silk robe, and his hair was glistening from the shower. "Tell me
what you did wrong."
"I – I lied to Finn," he said. The words came so easily now. He felt calm. "I
told him I wasn't going to take care of this baby, but I am. I mean, she's
mine. I'm her Papa."
"Yes," Adam nodded. "But you shouldn't have lied. Even if you had to tell him
he was wrong, it would have been better than lying to him."
"I got that now," he said, sighing. Adam took his chin in his hand, and gazed
directly into his eyes, his piercing blue gaze boring a hole into Puck's heart.
"But he shouldn't have hit you," he said clearly. "That's not your fault.
You're done with this guilt. And you're going to put it down right now."
"I don't know if I can," he choked, and tried to close his eyes, but Adam
wouldn't let him look away. He held him there, pinned to the couch, and Puck
realized with a shock that Adam was crying, too. Puck reached up with a
wondering hand and touched the tears on his cheek, and Adam took a short, sharp
breath.
"You can, and you will," he said, his voice still steady. "I'm going to make
you do it. Come here – over my knee. You know what to do?"
Puck nodded, then remembered and added, "Yes, Adam."
"That's a good boy," Adam murmured, and the familiar words, spoken in his sweet
voice, let Puck's tears start flowing again, even as he stretched out across
his lap, his hips against Adam's leg, resting his head on the couch. Adam's
left hand stroked his hair. "That's it – just like that. You can go on crying,
honey; it's okay. I'm not going to stop unless you tell me you've had enough.
Understand?"
"Yes, Adam," he said again, through his sobs.
"Such a good boy. You did everything right, honey. Now let me take care of
this, and you'll be done with it." He said it briskly, as though he were
clearing a table, each piece disappearing one at a time until the surface was
empty. "Lift up a little."
Puck raised himself up on his knees, and he felt Adam slip his shorts down over
his bottom and drop them to the floor. This was familiar territory, and even
though Adam's lap felt different, though his smell was different, the way he
prepared Puck's behind with a gentle touch was nearly identical. If he
reached just a little with his imagination, he could almost pretend it was
Finn, holding him lovingly, giving him what he needed, at last. He squirmed in
anticipation.
"Do you want to give up that last lie?" Adam offered, almost teasing, but Puck
heard it for what it was. Do you want to trust me completely? And he found that
he did. He closed his eyes.
"I'm sixteen," he said.
"All right, then. Sixteen." He laid his hand on Puck's skin, and then Puck felt
the touch of something else, something smooth and cool. "Are you going to lie
to me again?"
"No, Adam," he promised, his cheek on the couch.
"Are you going to lie to Kurt or Finn again?"
"No," he repeated, and it suddenly felt possible. It lifted him up, and he felt
the air flow clearly, in and out of his lungs. I really don't have to lie
anymore. "No, I won't."
"Good boy," Adam said again, and Puck was smiling in relief and pride as the
paddle came down.
He bore the first five strokes, barely feeling it at first through the euphoria
of the lifted burden. Then the burn began, and each stroke after that was
compounded, adding to the fire against his bare buttocks. He cried out, and
Adam said, urgently, "That's it – let it go."
He swore, and struggled, but Adam's hand was remarkably strong, holding him in
place, the paddle relentless. It found new, unmarked skin with each stroke,
while managing to increase the burn at the same time. The pain was far greater
than what he'd experienced in the past with Finn and Kurt, and he wasn't sure
what to do with it, until Adam pressed, "You don't have to handle it. Stop
trying."
"It hurts," he whimpered.
"Yes, it does, honey," Adam agreed, and when the paddle struck him again, Puck
felt himself come apart, as though he'd pulled the threads out of the basted
fabric of himself, and he was in pieces on Adam's knee. But Adam held him
together. He didn't have to do it – he didn't have to do anything. He was in
Adam's hands.
"That's right," Adam praised. "I'll take care of it."
The rest of the strokes went by almost without notice. Puck swam in a haze of
endorphins, flowing tears and self-realization.
"I don't have to do it alone," he whispered.
Adam wiped his face and helped him blow his nose before pulling him in to rest
against his chest. Puck wrapped his arms around Adam's warm, black-clad torso
and breathed in his scent.
"What's that, honey?" Adam asked quietly.
"I guess I just realized I really don't have to do this alone," he said. "Even
if – even if Finn isn't going to be there, Kurt is, and Kurt's dad. And Sarah,
my sister. My brother, too. I can ask them for help."
"You've got a lot of people who want to help you," Adam agreed. Puck rested his
head against the front of Adam's blue silk robe, which was soft and ornate.
Puck fingered the collar.
"Kurt would like this," he murmured. He looked up into Adam's face. Adam's eyes
were red, but dry, and he looked calm and composed. "I bet he would love you,"
Puck added.
"But he's not here right now," Adam said softly. "You are. Is this
what you want?"
Puck's arousal was obvious, and he could feel Adam's as plainly through the
thin layer of blue silk. But Adam was giving him an out. He was saying, we can
stop here; this can be it. You don't have to do anything else. For a moment,
Puck felt nothing but his patient regard.
Then emotion rushed up through him, a surprising wave of it, drenching him,
making him gasp.A moment of terror lit upon him. "Do you?"
"Do I what?" Adam said. He touched Puck's lips with one soft finger. His own
lips parted in response.
"Do you love me?" Puck said, but it wasn't at all what he'd meant to say. He
felt himself turn scarlet, and he closed his eyes, to shield himself from
Adam's answer.
"Oh," Adam said. Puck could hear surprise, but not fear, in his voice, as he
gave a shaky laugh. "Well. Like I said, love takes many forms, honey. I
honestly don't think I could have done… what I just did… without loving you."
Puck let this incredible response settle over him like a fine mist, saturating
him with possibility. "Some people could have," he said, thinking of Dr.
Howell. "But… I couldn't, either." He found the courage to open his eyes again
and met Adam's azure gaze. "I - god. I don't know how this... happened."
"It's a connection." Adam's soft voice was hypnotic. "It's what we're made to
do. We crave it. Somehow we found each other."
"Adam," he said, and it was an urgent plea. Adam seemed to know what it was he
was asking for, because he took Puck's face in his two cupped hands and kissed
him as passionately and lovingly as he'd ever been kissed in his life. When
Adam backed off, they were breathing in unison, and Puck was tugging at the tie
of Adam's robe, slipping his hands underneath, around his waist, his back, the
smooth skin of his side, stroking him from underarm to thigh.
"You want this," he said, as much to reassure himself as to confirm Adam's
feelings.
"So much," Adam replied, his voice still low. Puck felt that rush of emotion
again, and the words he didn't say were on his lips. Instead he buried them in
Adam's hair, against his neck, then let his hands rove, slipping his robe off
his shoulders and onto the cushion. He straddled Adam's legs and pressed him
against the back of the couch, wanting to feel how much he wanted it.
It was Adam who stopped them this time, his hand on Puck's chest. "Okay…" Adam
said, his own chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. "We should probably
figure this out."
"God, please," Puck moaned, tipping his hips into Adam's stomach, craving the
contact. Adam's body was smooth and a little on the softer side, less defined
than his own, and it was heaven to the touch. Puck's palms tingled as they
brushed the silky surface. "Enough talking… I need you."
"Honey," he breathed. His face was open, wistful. "I can see that. I want to
give it to you. But… suddenly it feels complicated."
"Why?" Puck's hands stuttered on Adam's back, tracing the pattern of his spine,
feeling him bend and sway under his touch. "What's complicated?"
Adam's laugh was a little sad, and a little bitter. "Because now there
are feelings involved. Now your boy, Kurt – he's here, on the couch with us.
Is he okay with this? Because you're such a young thing, and you need someone
to take care of you. Because – I'm wanting this." Puck felt Adam's chest rise
and fall with his soft sigh. "Because I'm not wanting this to go away
tomorrow."
"Oh." His heart seemed to stop for a moment, and then resume, with a slightly
different rhythm, one that included the pattern of Adam's breath, the color of
his eyes, the sound of the word honey, for him. It hurt, a little, but more
than that, it felt... significant. "I – I don't want it to go away tomorrow,
either," he said, honestly.
Adam's gaze flickered to Puck's, startled, hopeful. "Hmmm," he said.
Puck dug into the complicated and tried to help Adam make sense of it. "The
three of us, me and Kurt and Finn – we wanted to be a family. The kind that
loves each other, and other people, too. You said love takes many forms. We've
got friends, and relatives, and adopted family. And lovers. I mean, I have
lovers. They're here, in town. Kurt knows it; he knows I still love them, even
though we're far away. Even though we don't see each other every day – it
doesn't make the love less. Just different."
Adam nodded slowly. "And he's fine with… this? Would he be, if he knew you were
here?"
"He does know," Puck insisted, surprising Adam again. "I told him about you.
Before I came up here. It… it wouldn't have felt right otherwise."
Adam's eyes closed, and Puck felt his heart catch again as he saw the tears
well up and trail down his face. "I just need a second," he whispered.
"Sure," Puck said. He had a sudden rush of not Kurt, but it had a new meaning,
a different flavor to it. Now, it was Adam. He gently wiped the tears away from
Adam's face. "Is there anything you want from me?"
"Seriously?" Adam laughed. "That's a good question. An appropriate one. And
apparently all the answers are there, laid out for me."
"Alex," Puck said suddenly, realizing. He blinked. "Alex sent me off with you.
He – he was fine with it. I mean, he's fine with casual stuff, but… I don't
think this felt casual, and I think he got that." Puck shook his head. "What
you just did with me… didn't feel casual to me."
"No," Adam agreed. His hands went to Puck's chest, gently stroking, and Puck
watched his face constrict. "I've done plenty of casual, believe me, and this
isn't it. That – what I gave you, what you gave me – it's always been part of
an act. Me, putting on that role." He shook his head, pensive. "I'm a good
actor. It was fun. Hot. But you…" His hands crept up to Puck's face. "You're
not pretending. It's not an act for you."
"No," Puck said, a little offended. "No, definitely not. It took me fucking
long enough to figure out that I wanted it in the first place. I don't want to
pretend."
Adam's hands tightened on him. "Yeah, but see, it didn't feel like an act for
me, either," he insisted. "For the first time. God, Noah, you
were beautiful. Don't you see?" His eyes were pleading. "This… I had no idea I
wanted it. You're teaching me new things. I'm wanting more – more time to
figure it out." His hand came to rest on Puck's cheek, and Puck leaned into it.
"More time, with you."
He turned his head to kiss Adam's palm, making him shudder. "I'm here," he said
gruffly. "This weekend, anyway. And, after that... well, I don't want it to go
away, either. Is that enough for you?"
"I don't know?" Adam smiled, and Puck felt himself relax. "I'll take it,
though."
"You will? You're not… asking me to leave?" You're not leaving me? he wanted to
ask, but even to him, that sounded desperate.
"No." Adam shook his head, and Puck let his arms come up and around Adam's
back, holding him close. They breathed together, just for a moment, and even
that was far more intense than it had a right to be. "No… I want you to stay.
It's complicated… but that's okay."
Puck could feel Adam's wet cheek against his own. "I can do complicated," he
said. "I don't know what I even thought this was going to be. I just wanted to
be with you."
"I want it too, honey," Adam said, barely audible. "So much more than I
expected."
I get to have this? rang through Puck's incredulous mind, and ran a cautious
hand down Adam's chest to his stomach. I get to love – and get loved back?
Again? "Fuck," he said, marveling. "Are you sure?"
Adam mirrored Puck's hands, inching down Puck's chest, along his abs, and
lower. "I feel a little conflicted because you're so very… young," he admitted.
"Well, that's one thing you can count on changing," Puck said, grinning, even
as he shivered at the increasingly intimate touch. "Just wait around a little
while, and I'll get older. And it's not as though I've never done this stuff
before. You're not, like, deflowering me or anything."
Adam laughed. "I'm guessing we're well-matched there." He swept his hands down,
around Puck's aching cock, and between his parted legs, feather light and
maddening. "But there's no two ways around it, honey. We're breaking some laws
if we do anything more, here in this state, until you're seventeen."
Puck held Adam's gaze, and, very deliberately, picked up Adam's hand and placed
it on his cock. It was surprisingly erotic, and he thrust into Adam's startled
grasp, making an encouraging noise. "I've broken laws all my life," he said,
his breath coming faster. "I don't see any reason to stop now. Come on – I want
this. I've been tested, and I'm clean; I'm not a risk to you."
"Oh, yes you are," Adam promised, his voice unsteady, but he obliged, stroking
him with a practiced hand. "Believe me, this is all kinds of risky. Most of all
to my heart. But – god, I'm going to say it's worth it." He shook his head
slowly. "Just look at you."
Puck reveled in Adam's touch, at last, just threw his head back and bucked up
into his grip, causing Adam to catch his breath and groan. "You like what you
see?" he asked, needlessly - just to hear him say the answer.
"Yeah," Adam growled, and before he realized quite what was happening, Adam had
heaved Puck off his lap and onto the floor, kneeling on top of him. "And this
is how I want to see you."
"On my back?" Puck gasped. He thrust up, wanting to resume that contact,
because Adam's touch had felt a hell of a lot better than a simple hand job
should have. Either he was desperate, or Adam really knew what he was doing.
"Underneath me," Adam clarified, "but I think I'd prefer you on your knees."
"On my –?" Puck's vision wavered, blurred for a moment, and when he recovered
and looked up, Adam's gaze was piercing him with its intensity.
"Now, Noah," he commanded.
He scrambled to oblige, the voices inside his head chanting Yes! over and over
again, like his own personal cheering section. Even before he'd settled into a
sustainably comfortable crouch, Adam was massaging a wet, cool finger into his
ass. He ran his other hand over Puck's brilliantly tanned backside, which
burned at the touch.
"That's going to be pretty in the morning," Adam hummed. "I don't think you
ever showed your appreciation for that, by the way."
"God," Puck moaned, trying to wedge himself back on Adam's fingers, but he was
using a light touch and wouldn't let Puck set any kind of rhythm. "Thank you,
Adam – you have no idea how much I needed that."
"Oh, I think I might," he said, with a smile. "I'm... honored I could be the
one to give it to you." He reached up and dragged his nails down Puck's back,
suddenly, making him hiss, and while Puck's attention was on that, pressed
another slick finger inside him.
Adam's voice was mesmerizing. "You should know that I have a very strict code
regarding safe sex." The nails dug a little deeper, this time into the skin
around his neck, and Puck's head came back, as though his hair had just been
pulled.
"O-okay," he said, shuddering. "That's - we have one of those, too." He was a
little shocked at himself, and more than a little ashamed, to realize that he
hadn't even thought of his agreement with Finn and Kurt, that he probably would
have gone along with whatever Adam had wanted to do, without question. But
that's how you trust him, he thought, and took a breath, feeling a little
calmer.
"In my pants pocket," said Adam, his fingers probing Puck's insides, stretching
him. Those fingers followed him forward as he reached across the floor. Sliding
a hand into Adam's cast-off pants was far hotter than it had any right to be,
and he whimpered, feeling the slick fabric of the inside of his pocket. Finally
he clutched the foil-wrapped package in his hand and passed it back to Adam
silently, watching with avid interest over his shoulder as Adam rolled the
condom on his erect cock.
"You can come anytime," Adam offered, as though it were a gift, and at the
suggestion Puck very nearly did just then, but he somehow managed to hold
off. Finn would be amused at me, thinking of the mailman, he thought – and, for
the first time in over a week, he was startled to realize he could think about
Finn without falling apart. And he didn't think it was due to this man's
fingers in his ass. It was because he'd been forgiven. It still hurt; he still
missed Finn more than he could say – but it was bearable.
"Thank you," he breathed, and it was for everything, all of it, every little
thing that Adam had given him, everything he was taking from him now. "Thank
you."
"I need you to be very clear with me about what you want here," Adam said, his
voice low, as he added a third finger. Puck shook with anticipation, squirming
to find that right angle, but Adam was deliberately avoiding it, sweeping into
him without a rhythm or a pace, making him wait for it. "Tell me now - what do
you want me to do to you?"
He didn't even have to think about it; his back arched on its own as he gasped,
"Just fuck me – please."
Adam's response was immediate, drawing his fingers out all at once - and then
Puck felt him push past his barriers without even trying, filling him with one
stroke. It was too much for his tortured libido, and in raw seconds Puck was
coming, with a strangled cry, on the hotel carpet.
Adam paused behind him, laughing in amazement and delight. "Oh, honey," he
said, shaking his head, "you are such a treasure."
"Don't stop," Puck begged. "I need – please, give it to me, Adam –"
"Oh, I will," he assured him, strong hands gripping his hips, and Puck let
himself surrender to the incredible sensation of being filled again and again.
It was a singularly satisfying experience - one that was still new enough that
he could count on two hands the number of times he'd done that with Finn, and
even fewer times with Kurt - and he could already tell, now that he knew what
it felt like, was going to be exactly what he wanted nine times out of ten.
Getting it now, after a week of dreaming of it daily, nightly... he couldn't
help but think: this is our first time - and how could it possibly get any
fucking better than this? It was mindboggling to contemplate.
"You feel incredible," he managed to choke out, holding himself up on trembling
arms.
"And you - you have no idea how perfect you feel, Noah," Adam hummed, his hands
firm, guiding him gently with every thrust. Puck felt his spine arch into
Adam's touch, into the deliciously erotic sensation of slippery friction as he
fucked him, slowly, very deliberately. It was so much the same, and so
different, from the way it was with Finn, but he could appreciate that now
without anguish, now that the desperate guilt had been forgiven.
Adam's hand on his skin burned, as though the heat from their connection was
searing him through his touch. He leaned in, and the contact increased, all
along Puck's back, sending sparks up his spine. "No," he said, and Puck thought
he heard something break in his voice. "I don't think it's ever been like quite
like this."
Puck wasn't sure what to say to that. It should have been easy to lose himself
in the feelings, and not worry too much about what it might mean tomorrow - but
he realized far too much of him was caught up in wondering about what it meant
for Adam, and how he might feel tomorrow, and...
"Are you okay?" he couldn't help asking in a hoarse voice, glancing at him out
of the corner of his eye. He watched Adam react, and wished he knew what to do
to help him.
"Noah," Adam said, tenderly, and Puck felt reassured by the tone of his voice
as he spoke his name, as much as he was by his touch or his cock inside him.
"You don't have to take care of me. I'm doing exactly what I want. Your job is
to enjoy this, be present in the moment, to appreciate the love that's here.
You're doing it perfectly. Do you understand?"
Puck felt the last of his reservations drop away, his body opening wide, and he
leaned forward, letting him give and take what he wanted. "Yes - Adam," he
said, hearing the name on his lips, knowing he would never be able to speak it
the same way again. Adam. My lover, Adam.
"Yes," Adam echoed, encouraging him. "That's it."
Puck felt the energy shift as Adam changed the pace, not exactly speeding up,
but driving forward with greater purpose, and he felt a sense of anticipation.
Yet, at the same time, he felt remarkably free, completely able to let it go,
not to take any responsibility for his own pleasure, just giving it up entirely
to Adam. Because, apparently, that was all he needed to do. Adam, he thought
again, in a rolling cloud of gratitude and lust. Adam.
The cloud consumed him, and he felt more than heard Adam's breathing speed up,
rasping in his chest, heard him cry, "Noah," and Puck realized - almost after
the fact - that he was coming again, too. It was hard to differentiate the
pleasure of that from the relief from guilt, and the all-encompassing ecstasy
of loving Adam, exactly as he was, and being loved in the same way in return.
Adam, carefully and with extreme patience, supported Puck as he collapsed to
the floor, his arms buckling, dropping to his chest and hands. He felt light-
headed and a little dizzy. "Adam," he murmured.
"Rest there," Adam said, and stood without apparent difficulty. Puck watched
him walk naked across the room, discarding the condom along the way, and return
wearing his robe, carrying a blanket from the bed. With infinite care, he
spread the blanket over Puck's shaking body, tucking it snugly around his
shoulders and neck. "Do you need something to drink?"
Puck licked dry lips and nodded, and once again Adam went to get it for him.
Puck thought he should probably feel guilty for just lying there, but Adam's
words floated back to his memory: Your job is to enjoy this.
"You really wanted this from me?" he said softly, when Adam brought the water.
He had trouble lifting his head enough to drink, but Adam helped him sit
upright and brought the glass to his lips.
"Hey, now," he chided, his smile sweet, but paused as Puck's thumb came up and
stroked his mouth, stopping his words.
"Let me be uncertain," Puck insisted. "Please. I'm just not going to believe
you all the time. It's too fucking good to be real." He sighed, and his hand
looped around the back of Adam's neck, not demanding anything, just holding on.
Adam nodded, following him with his inscrutable blue eyes. "I wanted this from
you," he said. "It's not as though I've never done this before - it's not the
first time someone's come home with me. And I don't feel bad about doing that,
either. But this..." He nodded at the wonder and dawning understanding in
Puck's gaze. "This wasn't something I could have done with just anyone. It
was you that drew me."
He kissed Puck gently, and said, against the warmth of his mouth, "Thank you."
There was no way Puck could respond to that and have it be sufficient, so he
just nodded, letting the moment settle inside himself, letting the healing
happening. Loving him.
"I love you," he whispered.
Adam paused, closing his eyes briefly against the impact of those words.
"Honey," he said, his voice rich and throaty.
"It's okay," Puck said, and glanced away. "You don't have to - I mean, you
don't have to say anything."
Adam cupped his chin in his hand, and it felt so familiar, so much exactly the
way Finn would have done it - had done it in the past - that he would have
dissolved into tears, again, if Adam hadn't shocked him out of it with his
brief, calm command: "Stop that. You're not the only one who's feeling things,
here."
And Puck could see, in his face, in the way Adam touched him, exactly how he
felt. It was more terrifying than comforting, but Puck welcomed it. He had no
choice. The feelings were thundering through him like a herd of wild animals,
trampling all the fear and rational thought before them. Even the you're
cheating on your boyfriend refrain, that had rung through him repeatedly
earlier that evening, was almost entirely gone, replaced by the absurd sing-
song motif of this is right, this is just right.
"You need to give this time," Adam said. "Love like this - I suspect it's fifty
percent novelty and thirty percent lust. The rest - well. Let's look at it
tomorrow." He released Puck's chin and let him lean back. "You're exhausted,"
he pointed out. "You should sleep."
"I don't think I can, yet," Puck said. He felt exhausted, almost to the point
of collapse, but the adrenaline high wouldn't let him relax.
Adam considered him, then glanced over at the fire. "How about you play me
something on the guitar?"
Puck nodded, feeling his face smooth and the tension in the rest of his body
drop. "I really liked that song you did earlier," he said, as Adam helped him
stand and walk the few steps, shaky and naked, to sit before the fireplace.
Adam slid his guitar case next to him and Puck snapped open the latches.
"Isn't it great? It was written by Pink. She's amazing. You'll be able to hear
it again in a few days - we'll be on Letterman for the nighttime debut." Adam's
smile was warm, and he seated himself on the floor next to Puck, poking at the
fire. "Big album release coming out this week, too."
"I know," Puck said, tuning his guitar. "I went looking for your CD at the
music store and your face was on a piece of fucking cardboard as big as that
fireplace." He shrugged. "No CDs yet though. Too bad - I was hoping to hear
more."
Adam rolled his eyes. "It feels unreal, that I could have... made it. After
Idol, it just happened so fast. But I wanted it; I worked for it." He thought
for a moment, then hopped up again, rifled through a box on the counter, and
pulled out a CD. "Here," he said, holding it out to Puck and grinning. "A few
days early. Technically not allowed... but, honestly, I don't think that
indiscretion really compares with what we just did anyway."
Puck took the CD and raised an eyebrow at the sultry face on the cover.
"Fancy," he said.
"That's me," Adam said complacently.
"Yeah," Puck agreed. "It suits you. You're pretty fucking sparkly."
Adam's eyes twinkled. "Well, I like to say, if something doesn't look right,
just throw some glitter on it." He gestured at Puck. "Enough stalling, Noah.
Play me something."
"What do you want to hear?" Puck strummed the chords of Kurt's and...
and Finn's song, but didn't think too hard about the lyrics.
"Something you love? Something close to your heart."
He thought about it for a few moments, watching Adam watching him. He felt the
echo of their lovemaking, the way it had felt so familiar, and the gratitude he
felt toward him. "Um. My dad... he really liked Neil Diamond. Like, a whole
lot. He had all his albums on LP, and all the songbooks, and when he... left,
he gave them to me. I learned to play guitar by working my way through them. It
was pretty much the only good thing he ever gave me."
Adam's gaze softened. Puck had seen this expression before, from Burt and
Carole, and Finn and Kurt. It was pity, and he didn't usually like it, but from
Adam, somehow, he thought he could take it. He was able to ignore it, anyway.
He picked a quiet pattern and began, without ceremony:
http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=pT-WZC8run0
I've seen the light
 And I've seen the flame
 And I've been this way before
 And I'm sure to be this way again
For I've been refused
 And I've been regained
 And I've seen your eyes before
 And I'm sure to see your eyes again
For I've been released
 And I've been regained
 And I've sung my song before
 And I'm sure to sing my song again
Adam listened, at first with gentle surprise, shading toward delight, at the
sound of Puck's voice. Puck figured Adam got a lot of guys wanting to sing to
him, and most of them were probably a hell of a lot better than he was... but
he also knew from experience that when someone sang to you, for you, that kind
of trumped everything else. Puck was a good singer, and he knew it.
And Adam was loving it. He smiled at Puck, letting the love come through; Puck
thought he might not make it through the song if he kept doing that, so he
fixed his gaze on the ornate collar of Adam's robe and kept going.
Some people got to laugh
 Some people got to cry
 Some people got to make it through
 By never wondering why
Some people got to sing
 Some people got to sigh
 Some people never see the light
 Until the day they die
But I've been released
 And I've been regained
 And I've been this way before
 And I'm sure to be this way again
 One more time again
 Just one more time
"Honey," Adam said softly, as Puck played the last chord. He looked somewhat
overcome, and Puck reached out a hand and laid it on his knee.
"Thank you," he said. "For not... well, for taking me seriously, and for
helping me. I know I'm a fucking mess."
"You're not," Adam said, waving him off, wiping his eyes. "No more than the
rest of us, anyway. I remember sixteen. Everything's a big deal at sixteen. It
does get easier."
Puck watched him. "This... is a big deal," he said slowly.
Adam shook his head, forestalling any further comment. "Tomorrow. Wait. Let's
let it be, tonight. It's too soon to talk about that."
He nodded, but felt torn. "I just... I don't want to wake up and find a note
from you saying thanks, but no thanks," he said.
"I won't do that," Adam promised. "We'll have more time tomorrow to talk,
and... see. But now... I'd love to sing you one more song before bed. I can't
play guitar worth a damn. You're going to have to help me out again. Are you
awake enough, or should we wait until tomorrow?"
"I think I can manage," he said. Adam pulled out a folder of music and selected
a guitar tab, handing it to Puck.
"Another Pink song," Adam said, his lips curving into a smile. Puck found
himself mesmerized by the minute movements of his expressive mouth, and had to
tear himself away to concentrate on the music. Adam, his body thrummed. Jesus
fucking Christ, Adam.
He strummed through the song once, Adam humming along to set the tempo, and
nodding, helping him through some chord changes, and then Puck fell into
reverie, listening to Adam's incredible voice. It was clearly what he was born
to do: to perform. And here he was, doing it for Puck, and apparently it didn't
matter what he sang - it was going to reduce Puck to a pile of fucking mush on
the floor.
http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=SMZUFUqjwlo
Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?
 Closed your eyes and trusted, just trusted?
 Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air?
 Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, "I just don't care"?
Adam's brilliant, wicked smile was softened, changed by the stark emotion of
the lyrics. Puck fumbled a chord, but recovered, concentrating on getting it
right, trying not to listen too deeply. It was a near thing, like his heart was
right there on the floor, and he wasn't careful, he might slip and squash it.
It's only half past the point of no return
 The tip of the iceberg
 The sun before the burn
 The thunder before the lightning
 The breath before the phrase
 Have you ever felt this way?
Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone
 Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone?
 Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?
 Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?
Puck's mind suddenly connected with the reality that he was going to have to
leave. That, a day or two from now, that was going to be him, staring at the
phone. Would Adam call him? Or was this, this one day, going to be it? He shook
his head, trying to clear it. Forget that. He's here, right now. Don't miss
this. He let his eyes lock with Adam's for just a few moments, before he had to
go back to concentrating on the chords.
It's only half past the point of oblivion
 The hourglass on the table
 The walk before the run
 The breath before the kiss
 And the fear before the flames
 Have you ever felt this way?
Adam sang a few effortless la la las, letting his voice soar up into that range
that should have belonged to girls, but apparently posed no challenge for him.
He sure as hell didn't sound anything like Kurt. Kurt sang, in a totally good
way, like a girl. Adam sang like a man, and no amount of glitter, nor his
absurdly wide range, could change that. As he continued floating those G's and
A's across the bridge, his voice dug down into Puck's guts and found a home
there.
There you are, sitting in the garden
 Clutching my coffee,
 Calling me sugar
 You called me sugar
Have you ever wished for an endless night?
 Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight?
 Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself
 Will it ever get better than tonight?
"God," Puck said, his voice breaking, clutching at his guitar like a rescue
raft. "I can't fucking imagine."
"I know," Adam said. He closed his eyes and shook his head, his hair falling
around his face. "I thought, when I saw you in the coffee house tonight, that -
this might be a good night. But I never thought it would be like this. Not like
this."
Puck carefully set the guitar back in the case, methodically covering it with
the velour liner, and closed the case, snapping the latches. Then he hesitantly
looked at Adam. Trusted, just trusted. He crept across the floor toward him.
Put one hand on his leg, and the other around his waist. Laid his head in
Adam's lap.
"Oh," Adam said, very quietly. "Oh."
He touched Puck's hair, stroking it, then down his neck and to his back,
fingers moving lightly. Puck heard Adam's breath shudder in and out, and
wondered what his own breath sounded like. Somehow he couldn't hear it. He was
experiencing the most precious feeling, and he wasn't going to miss one
instant.
"Stay with me tonight?" Adam said, his voice suffused with complicated emotion.
He managed to say, "I'm supposed to call Alex."
"I can do that, if you tell me his number."
He mumbled the number for the House of the Ampersand, heard Adam punch in the
number on his phone, and Alex's rumbling answer.
"It's Adam, from the coffeeshop," he said. "Noah's fine. Do you want to talk to
him?" There was a pause. "I'll tell him. He's resting." Another pause. "Yes,
it's been... instructive, I think. Healing." Puck felt his fingers again,
stroking his forehead. It made him feel sleepy, like he was floating away. "Do
you want to say anything to Alex, honey?"
"Mmmm-mmm," Puck said, shaking his head. He wasn't sure he was capable of
speech, to begin with, and if he was able to say something, he wasn't at all
willing to trust what would come out.
"He'll call in the morning," Adam said quietly. "Thanks. Yeah, he is. He really
is."
Puck felt helpless, but somehow it wasn't a scary feeling at all. Adam gently
tugged him to his feet, taking his hand, as though he was leading him on a long
journey, instead of just into the other room. It was Adam who undid the tie of
his robe, Adam who turned down the covers of his bed, Adam's hands that
smoothed the covers up along his legs and shoulders and pulled them snug around
his neck. Adam's lips that laid a chaste, gentle kiss on his cheek. Adam's
miraculous voice that said, "Good night. I'll be right here next to you."
"Thank you," he replied, letting his eyes fall closed.
He slept, without dreams - without dreams - for the rest of the night.
And when he woke the next morning, it was already light out, and the man whose
head rested on the pillow beside him was as beautiful and compelling as he had
been the night before. Puck lay there for an inordinate amount of time, just
watching him sleep, not touching him, praying, God, let me survive this. Let my
heart handle another love like this. I'm not at all sure it will.
When he finally did stir, he moved in closer, putting a hand on the skin of his
shoulder, feeling its silky smooth surface, letting the tears drip from his
eyes to soak the pristine white pillowcase. Adam's eyes opened. Puck thought he
might never see a blue like that again.
"You're crying," he murmured.
"It's okay," Puck whispered, even though it wasn't.
Adam's hand came up to touch his cheek. "What can I do?"
What could he say? Come back with me to Ohio? Let me wake up with you every
morning, just like this? Figure out how I can split myself into two, so you can
have one and the other one can go back to Kurt?
"Just don't let go," he said, reaching for him. Adam wrapped him in his arms
and held him for several long minutes.
"I won't, honey," he said at last. "I won't."
===============================================================================
I know the battles of chasing the shadows of who you wanna be
 It doesn't matter, go on and shatter
 I'm all you need
 Broken pieces, break into me
 So imperfectly what you should be
 Lay here, it's safe here, I'll let you be broken open
 Hide here, confide here so we can be broken open
- Adam Lambert, "Broken Open"
***** Chapter 4 *****
I think when I was younger, I could box in what my sexuality was about, what's
my type and all that. But as I've gotten older, and just learned more about
myself and the world, it's not really about type anymore. I mean, if someone's
hot, they're hot. If someone's interesting, they're interesting. If you have an
energy and a chemistry with someone, then you have chemistry. Done. You can't
really define that or explain it. It just is. You just meet people and you
click, or you don't. You know? [Pauses.] Although - I like pretty boys. … And
I'm generally drawn to [guys who are] younger than me.
- Adam Lambert, OUT Magazine, November 2009
===============================================================================
CHAPTER FOUR
Adam didn't give him a choice, but he did offer him something to wear, other
than his jeans and t-shirt from last night.
"I haven't been to temple in, like, six years," Puck said, frowning.
Adam smiled, fingers working their way up the buttons of his shirt. "Maybe it's
time to start going again, then."
Puck held out the black shirt Adam had given him, fingering the stitching. "I
don't think I even believe in God anymore."
"You don't go to temple for you," Adam scoffed. "You go for your community.
It's tradition."
"Community? You don't know anybody here."
Adam's gaze was steady. "Community's bigger than the town you live in. It's
part of connecting with where you come from, no matter what you believe." He
put a hand on Puck's back. "Al tid'ag."
The hand burned through his shirt and made him tingle. I just want you to take
me back to bed, he thought, but he didn't say it. "What's that mean?" he asked
instead.
"Don't worry."
He took his arm and led him downstairs to the hotel lobby, waiting to be seated
at the hotel restaurant. Puck eyeballed the woman at the desk, who was watching
them suspiciously. Adam just gave her a cheerful wave, and she looked away in a
hurry.
"You're way too awake for morning," Puck muttered.
"Somehow I slept well last night," Adam said, eyes wandering over the menu. His
tone was light and teasing, but Puck felt a shiver of understanding pass
between them. They chose a booth facing away from the door and sat beside each
other, hands laced under the table. Adam ordered coffee, and, without asking, a
pot of Darjeeling for Puck.
"I slept well, too," Puck admitted. "Way better than usual. I almost always
wake up in the middle of the night."
Adam's fingers rubbed the knuckles of Puck's hand. "Any particular reason?"
"My dad. I told you about him. He did stuff to us, me and my brother and my
mom." It was easier to say than he expected; today all the words were flowing
easily, without any kind of hesitation. "I remember things at night, things I
don't remember during the day. By the time I'm awake again, they're mostly
gone, but every now and then, they stick with me. I wish they wouldn't."
Adam accepted the presspot of tea from the waitress with thanks, and set it
aside, pouring the milk into Puck's cup. Puck watched him with a raised
eyebrow, but Adam said nothing until Puck said, "Uh, I can do that."
"Just relax," Adam said, complacently, tapping the spoon off on his cup.
"You're fine. How's your brother dealing with it? Is he younger or older?"
"Five years older. But I have a sister, too; she's five years younger. Timothy,
and Sarah. Timothy - he took off when he was my age. Couldn't deal. But he came
back to help with - my mom."
"What happened with your mom?"
Puck watched the funeral procession drive by in his mind. He'd been kind of
impressed by the number of people there, considering what kind of a judgmental
bitch she'd been. He'd sat at the park across the street and watched from his
truck. Kurt had seen him, but when he'd tried to approach him, Puck had driven
off in a hurry.
"She died."
Adam's hand found his under the table again. "I'm sorry."
Puck nodded. "It's hard to believe, still."
"When did it happen?"
He had to think about it for a minute, and then had to release the catch in his
throat before he could speak. "Last Thursday."
Adam's eyes went wide and shocked, and he looked like he wanted to say
something, but the waitress came by to take their order. Puck just shook his
head once, and Adam turned to the waitress, calm as anything, and said, "The
potato pancakes, please. And do you have turkey bacon?"
"French toast," Puck said, handing her the menu. "With bacon. Regular bacon.
Not too crispy."
The silence between them went on for long enough that Puck felt like he had to
look up at Adam to see what he was thinking. He couldn't be certain, even then,
but there was compassion, and concern, and the thing he'd called love last
night, but now he wasn't sure what to call it. He reached for his teapot, but
Adam stilled his hand.
"I'll do it," Adam told him, and it wasn't a negotiation. Puck sat back,
feeling antsy with nothing to focus on, and concentrated on the contact of
Adam's thigh against his.
The tea was the perfect shade. He watched Adam pour it into the cup and stir
until the white and the brown became tan. Adam picked up the cup and placed it
into his hands; it was warm and comforting.
"Noah," he said, and Puck heard the concern in his voice. "What happened?"
He spoke automatically, the words he'd said two dozen times or more over the
past week. "She was sick. We're still not exactly sure, but something in her
brain. Probably a stroke."
Adam slid an arm between his back and the back of the bench, giving him a place
to rest his head, and Puck did, listening to the beat of Adam's heart. "I'll
bet that was really awful."
"The most awful part was how relieved I was," Puck said. "She was a grade-
A bitch, nothing else to say about it. She kicked me out of the house; said I
could choose between living there and being with Kurt and Finn."
Adam's arm tightened around him protectively, and Puck actually did feel
protected within that circle. It was improbable how much he appreciated it.
"Sounds like you've had a lot of ultimatums in your life recently," Adam said.
He sounded angry, but even without seeing his face, Puck could tell it wasn't
about him.
The waitress slid their plates onto the table, but Puck barely noticed, with
Adam's arm around him, so close against his body. He had a green, fresh smell,
not like cologne or soap, but like cut grass, crisp and clean. Puck turned his
head into Adam's neck and breathed him in, and felt him respond, like a
vibration against him.
"I'm trying to be here for you," Adam murmured. "But you're damned
distracting."
"I don't care," Puck said. "Fuck breakfast. I want you."
"Later," came Adam's silky reply. "You need to eat. Drink your tea." While Puck
sipped, he reached a casual arm across the table, still curved around Puck's
back, and snagged a couple plastic containers of butter. He peeled the plastic
off each one and spread it on Puck's French toast, then cut them into neat
squares.
"You're really going to make me go to temple with you," Puck said, stabbing a
square of toast and dipping it into syrup before cramming it into his mouth. At
least he's not trying to feed me, he thought irritably.
"I really am," Adam agreed. "Now, even more than before. It's still Hannukah,
for one thing. And I'm guessing you haven't recited the Kaddish for your
mother."
"Why?" Puck pushed the toast around on his plate. "It's stupid. It's not going
to help her any. She's still going to be dead."
"In this case, it is for you." Adam's voice was brisk, but his hands were
gentle. They touched his back and neck, feeling warm through the black cotton
shirt Adam had lent him. "Expressing your devotion, in the face of your sorrow
and anger. If you were serious about it, you'd recite it every day for the next
eleven months, during avelut."
"Yeah, and I'd stop going to parties and listening to music for those eleven
months, too," he said angrily. "That's not going to happen."
"So it's not going to hurt to do it once. And it might help." Adam smoothed his
collar. "Do you trust me?"
That's a hell of a question. Puck closed his eyes. "Yes," he said, reluctantly.
"Then let me take care of this." He smeared some sour cream on his potato
pancakes and took a bite, making a face. "Pity. All oil and no flavor."
"You should try mine. They're fucking amazing."
"I'm not at all surprised," said Adam, smiling. "Just like everything else
about you."
"Whatever," he muttered, feeling the heat on his cheeks and neck. Adam watched
him as he ate another forkful of French toast.
"What happened to the confident young man I met last night?" he asked. "You
think so little of me that you'd assume I'd fall in love with someone who's
less than amazing?"
Puck stopped chewing and put his fork down, barely able to swallow. His eyes
took in Adam's placid expression with disbelief. "You said... last night, that
you didn't know if...?"
"I think it's still too early to know for sure how things are going to turn out
for us," he said quietly. "But I know how I feel, right now - not in the heat
of the moment. Right now... there's definitely love here."
Puck steadied his trembling lips and willed himself not to cry in the middle of
the restaurant. If some asshole is going to snap a picture of the two of us
together, he prayed, don't let it be when I'm looking like a complete
wuss. Instead he buried his face in Adam's shirt and tried to accommodate this
new world, in which his box including all the most important people in his life
had suddenly been expanded by one additional person, someone he barely knew,
and might never see again after tomorrow.
"That's... pretty freaking terrifying," he said, his voice muffled by the soft
fabric.
"It doesn't have to be, honey," Adam replied. "It's the beginning. Let's just
take things as they come." Puck felt the pressure of his grip on his neck. "But
don't try to hide from me, or lie to me. It won't... end... well for you."
Puck shifted on the vinyl seat, grateful for the padding, and nodded mute
understanding.
"Eat," implored Adam. "We need to get going. Service starts at 9:30, and I'm
not a fashionably late kind of guy."
But the elevator ended up being too close quarters and too long alone with Adam
for Puck to handle, and as soon as the doors closed, he slammed Adam up against
the wall and wrestled his mouth into a desperate, smoldering kiss. Adam went
along with it for the ride up to the sixth floor, but when the bell dinged and
the doors slid open again, Adam put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him
away.
"I know what you're doing," he said, "and I don't take well to being topped
from the bottom."
"I just want -" Puck said, reaching for him again, and Adam shook his head,
taking him by the hand and walking him down the hall toward his room.
"Yes, I know very well what you want, and I've already said later. I'm
susceptible to your charms, but I also know when I'm being manipulated. Even if
you don't realize you're doing it." He stopped Puck in the hallway and looked
hard at him. "You're going to have to let me set the agenda, honey, or else
there's going to be consequences - and you're still not going to get what you
want."
"Uh," said Puck, with a shiver, feeling the words travel down into his gut, and
lower. "You do realize those kind of promises are not really going to get me to
behave myself?"
"They'd better," Adam purred, stroking his face and giving Puck his most
devastating glance from under his lowered lids. "Or you're not going to be up
for much driving home when I'm done with you. You think that paddle was the
worst thing I have in my bag of tricks?"
Puck felt curiosity warring with dread, but then he considered the discomfort
he was already going to be in on that 23 hour drive. "Maybe I could just stay
longer," he said, in what he'd planned to be a teasing tone, but what came out
just as hopeful and fucking desperate as he was feeling. Shit. His embarrassed
gaze dropped to his boots, hiding under the tops of the grey slacks Adam had
lent him.
Adam's gentle hand guided his face back up to him, with one hand under his
chin. His blue eyes were sad. "We're flying out late this afternoon," he said.
"Or else you can bet I'd be keeping you, as long as I could. I have to be back
in LA for the American Music Awards tonight."
"Th-this afternoon?" A frisson of panic raced through him and he clutched at
Adam's arms. "No - I thought we had a whole day, another night -"
Adam shook his head, once. "So here's what we're going to do," he said. "Are
you ready to listen to me now?"
Slowly, Puck's arms dropped, returned to his side. He took a few deep breaths.
"Yeah," he said, finally.
"Try again," Adam said, the warning tone lurking beneath his loving voice.
"Yes, Adam," he said hastily. He gazed up at Adam, the scant inches between
them seeming like miles. Adam stroked Puck's chest, speaking in a soft tone,
calming him further with his words.
"We're going to get in my car and drive down to the synagogue for Shabbat
services. Then we're going to come back here and spend a few hours getting to
know each other better. We're going to use every moment we have, as best we
can. Then I'm going to say goodbye to you, at 3:00. You're going to go back to
Alex's house, eat a good dinner." His lips made a smile that didn't reach his
eyes. "Does Alex have a TV?"
"Yes - Adam." No, he was crying. No. We can't only have six hours left - and
we're wasting two hours of it going to fucking temple?
"Good. The American Music Awards are on tonight. Then... you're going to watch
me perform for you." His hand curled out and pulled Puck into his chest, and
Puck was startled to feel Adam's own breath shuddering. "Just for you."
Puck's no's came out onto Adam's shirt, a litany of denial, and he clutched at
him. "Yes," Adam insisted, his voice breaking. "Yes, honey. It's how it's going
to have to be."
Through the blur of tears, his face turned to the side, Puck saw a young man in
the hall, just a few doors down from where they stood. He watched them with
clear regret and sadness, and let out a sigh as he slid the keycard into his
door. "Adam," he said. "What are you doing?"
Adam's arms tightened on Puck. "Embracing love," he said. "This is it, Tommy.
What I've been singing about all along. This is it."
"You're going to be useless tonight," he said. "And we've got a fucking live
performance."
"You're wrong," he said defiantly, turning to face the young man, holding Puck
securely in one arm. "I'm inspired. It's going to be... unforgettable."
===============================================================================
Imma pick u up, Imma pick u up
 We're gonna see where we can go
 This is how I live, this is what I give
 And you're the one I want to know
- Adam Lambert, "Pick U Up"
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
I had a psychedelic experience where I looked up at the clouds and went, Oh!….I
realized that we all have our own power, and that whatever I wanted to do, I
had to make happen.
 - Adam Lambert, New York Post, August 2009
===============================================================================
CHAPTER FIVE
The temple was only a mile and a half from the hotel, straight down Galisteo,
but Adam insisted on leaving Puck's truck and having his driver take them. Puck
was in no position to argue.
"You'd be surprised how persistent fans can be when they want something," Adam
said, sliding into the back seat beside him, his security in the front seat. "I
had one follow me into the bathroom last month. He wanted me to sign an
autograph while I was standing at the urinal."
"Classy," Puck said, grinning, but it was a hollow smile. He couldn't muster
more than that, and Adam seemed to understand. He took Puck's hand, and they
made the brief ride in silence.
Just before they climbed out of the car, Adam leaned over and gave him one
long, lingering kiss. "You're a good boy," he said, "and I love you. Don't
forget."
It took Puck a few tries to haul himself out of the car after that, but he
wiped his eyes and put on his game face. I can get through this, he told
himself, ignoring the whispers and pointed fingers from some of the
congregation. Adam took his elbow and guided him up the sidewalk toward the
synagogue.
The usher greeting them at the door was pleasant enough, and Puck appreciated
the value of anonymity. "Welcome to Temple Beth Shalom," he said. "Happy
Hannukah."
He didn't blink twice at two guys coming into the synagogue together, except to
point out the baskets of yarmulke and tallit shawls. "If you want," he added.
"We're pretty free-form here; reform, you know. Some of the women wear them
too."
Adam took one of the satin-covered skull caps and put it on. "Shabbat shalom,"
he said, smiling at the usher, "and Hanukkah Sameach."
"Uh, yeah," Puck said. "Thanks." He took a green yarmulke and held it in his
two hands as they walked up the aisle and found a seat in one of the rows of
chairs. He glanced around himself with a sense of unreality. The room was
bright and sunny, and everyone was friendly, and Puck was as miserable as he'd
ever been in his life.
"You can do this," Adam said in a low tone, their fingers intertwining again.
"It's going to be okay."
Fucking Job had it right. Puck ground his teeth together and stared at the
Torah on its stand in the front of the room. God gives, and God fucking takes
it away again.
Adam was reading the order of service pamphlet the usher had given them, but
Puck didn't care what was first and what was next and what was last. He just
wanted to get it over with. He didn't protest when Adam took the yarmulke and
smoothed it out over Puck's mohawk, and placed a copy of the Gates of Prayer in
his hands.
"Hey," said the man sitting on their right, next to Adam. "You're that guy from
American Idol, right? The singer guy."
"That's me," Adam said. The man's eyes lit up.
"Wow," he said. "My wife, she loves you. She said you should have won."
"Kris was the better singer," Adam said, shaking his head. "He deserved it."
"Hey, we're singing a song this morning," said the man, holding out a piece of
music. "You want to sing with us? It's a cappella and we could use another
tenor."
"You get two for the price of one," said Adam, taking the music and gesturing
to Puck.
"Uh," said Puck. "I don't think –"
"Hey, that's great," said the man, grinning at Puck. "Just come up and join us
after the Torah reading."
Puck glared at Adam. "I don't want to sing," he said.
"Tough," he said, and his voice was light, but Puck could see his expression.
He doubted he was going to get him to budge. Puck sighed heavily and slumped in
his chair. Un-fucking-believable.
The welcome and candle-lighting and initial prayers went by in a blur, and
before he knew it, they were standing for the Bar'chu. Adam helped him turn to
the right page, but Puck shook his head. "I know it," he said, a little
petulantly.
"Okay, honey," Adam whispered, smiling. "I wasn't sure."
It had been a while, it was true, but he never forgot lyrics once he learned
them, and this was no different. They went through the Avot and the Gevurot,
then the cantor said, "Please take a moment for silent meditation," and the
room went quiet.
Puck felt a sudden sense of panic. He wasn't sure where it was coming from,
exactly, but he knew if he didn't get out of that silent room, he was going to
fucking scream. But before he could bolt across the aisle for the door, Adam
gripped his arm, and there was no chance of escape.
"Noah," he said, low, but unmistakably an order, looking down at him out of one
eye. "You will do this."
"I - I can't," he hissed. "I'm going to freak out."
"No, you're not," Adam said again, in that same tone. "You can sit down if you
feel lightheaded, but this is not a choice. You need this."
He couldn't even ask How do you know what I need? because Adam, who'd known him
for all of twelve hours, clearly did. He felt the tightness in his chest ease
with each breath, and he found himself nodding. The woman standing next to him
looked at him with concern, and he muttered, "I'm okay."
They recited the Sh'ma after that, and Puck found himself saying the words as
though for the first time:
Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.
Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed.
V'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha b'khol l'vav'kha uv'khol naf'sh'kha uv'khol
m'odekha.
V'hayu had'varim ha'eileh asher anokhi m'tzav'kha hayom al l'vavekha.
V'shinan'tam l'vanekha v'dibar'ta bam
b'shiv't'kha b'veitekha uv'lekh't'kha vaderekh uv'shakh'b'kha uv'kumekha...
Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.
 Blessed be the Name of His glorious kingdom for ever and ever.
 And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your
soul and with all your might.
 And these words that I command you today shall be in your heart.
 And you shall teach them diligently to your children, and you shall speak of
them
 when you sit at home, and when you walk along the way, and when you lie down
and when you rise up...
He found himself thinking of his daughter, still growing, forming in Quinn's
goyim belly, and realized with a start that she wouldn't actually be
Jewish. Matrilineal, he thought. It goes through the mom. My mom was Jewish,
but Quinn isn't. He wondered what he'd need to do to change that. Then he
thought, with sudden anger, Why the fuck does it matter if she's Jewish? What
does any of this fucking matter?
They sat back down, and Puck felt the pressure of the folding chair against his
sore behind, and that, oddly, calmed his anger more than anything else. He
watched the rabbi place his hands over the Torah.
"Aren't they going to carry it around?" he whispered. "We always did a parade,
kind of, and people could touch it, like for good luck."
"Not all congregations do," Adam murmured back.
Puck was a little disappointed for that. He remembered touching the ornate
covering of the Torah as it passed each week, and thinking that he was touching
something that had been touched by thousands of other Jews, making that
connection back through the years, all the way to Jerusalem. He thought about
what Adam had said, about this not being for him, but rather for his community,
and he felt kind of good - that maybe his being here was making it better for
everyone else in the room, or even everyone else in the world who was attending
services at the same time. Then he felt stupid for that thought, and he was
glad nobody else could read what was in his mind.
Maybe, he thought, nervously, as Adam looked at him with frightening
awareness. Maybe he can.
He sat, mired in his thoughts, for far too long, until the rabbi said in a
quiet voice, "This week's Torah reading is about Noah."
Adam smothered a surprised laugh, and Puck glared at him, not daring to kick
his ankle in the middle of the service.
"Genesis 6:9. Now the earth was corrupt in God's sight, and the earth was
filled with violence. And God saw the earth, and behold, it was corrupt, for
all flesh had corrupted their way on the earth. And God said to Noah, "I have
determined to make an end of all flesh, for the earth is filled with violence
through them. Behold, I will destroy them with the earth…"
The reading droned on, Puck tuned it out. He'd never been a fan of the whole
destructive god thing. It made him uneasy. It was pretty fucking clear that
whatever God had intended when he made us, we weren't living up to it. He
leaned back in his chair and sighed, and stole a look at Adam, who seemed to be
lost in thought.
Finally the rabbi was done. He leaned on the podium, looking at his
congregation, with a thoughtful smile. He was bald, and his ornate yarmulke
looked funny on his hairless head.
"So… what's this story about Noah telling us about ourselves?" he asked.
"Because, let's face it; human beings are naturally selfish creatures. We want
to talk about ourselves. And we rarely consider the consequences that our
choices have on others. Things haven't changed much since the days of Noah.
Back then, the violent man didn't stop to say to himself, 'My violence is
making this world worse. My sins are hurting the whole of humanity.' But it was
true then, and it's still true. Each time we sin, no matter how private and
personal we imagine the sin to be, we contribute to the destruction of the
world."
Puck shifted uncomfortably on his chair again. He figured the uncushioned
chairs were designed to keep the minyan awake during the fucking boring shit
the rabbi had to say. Adam didn't seem to have any compunction about napping in
temple; his head was back, eyes closed. But as Puck squirmed, Adam's hand came
out and rested on his leg briefly, and he subsided.
"The Torah tells that the wages of sin are death," the rabbi was saying. "Sin
affects the world around us. It affects others around us. For example, an
alcoholic might suppose that his drinking problem is his own business. But when
he abuses his wife and children, it is their problem. When he can't perform at
work, it is his employer's problem. When he loses his job, it is his lawyer's
problem. When he can't afford to take care of his family anymore, it is the
community's problem. Our sins touch the lives of everyone around us. They
pollute the spiritual environment of our world."
Puck suddenly felt as though the rabbi was speaking to him – like, maybe like
Adam, he had x-ray vision or something and could see exactly what was going on
in his heart. It was kind of creepy.
The rabbi surveyed the congregation, and met Puck's eyes along the way. "God
punishes sin," he said frankly. "For Him to leave sin unpunished would be
unjust. Think of it this way. Suppose there was a murder trial. The defendant
was proven guilty. The jury returned a guilty verdict, but the judge, being a
kindly fellow, dismissed the verdict, saying, 'Well, the poor guy is probably
sorry. I don't think we need to punish him.' Everyone would be outraged at the
travesty of justice.
"Yet people want to imagine God like that. We don't like to think of God as a
punisher of sin. We want Him to just look the other way, like a kindly old
grandfather who winks at the misdeeds of his grandchildren. Yet God's kingdom
is founded upon justice.
"This is the problem with sin. It begets judgment. In the days of Noah, the sin
of humanity was so great that justice demanded God take action against it. The
easiest thing for God to do would have been to simply will the universe out of
existence. He could have just shut the entire thing down and started over with
a new creation. Instead, He chose to try to fix the world."
Why? Puck wanted to yell, to fill the synagogue with his demand for an
explanation. Why – if things were so fucking bad, why bother? Why were the
stupid humans worth it?
The rabbi touched the Torah before him, shrouded in its decorative cover. "In
Judaism, "fixing the world" is known as tikkun olam. It's an important concept:
the world is broken, and it needs to be fixed. Whenever we apply our efforts to
doing good by alleviating human suffering, standing up for justice, making
peace in the midst of strife and choosing to do right instead of wrong, we are
fixing the world. As we make the world a better, more godly place, we are
restoring it to God's original intent."
The rabbi stepped down from the riser and walked toward the congregation,
everyone's eyes following him as he approached them. "Human evil grieves God's
heart," he said. "God is not peering down on the planet making observations
like a dispassionate astronaut. Neither is he watching us like a man sitting on
a sofa watching a football game. Rather, he is like a Father who observes the
behavior of His children. He is like a king taking note of how events unfold in
his kingdom. When a father sees his children involved in self-destructive
behaviors, it grieves him. When a king sees his subjects living in open
rebellion against him, it angers him."
Puck found his eyes inexplicably prickling with tears, and he was glad for
Adam's shoulder beside him, as he leaned in and let his head rest there for a
moment. Adam murmured wordless comfort, and Puck felt lips pressing to his
forehead.
The rabbi smiled, not like a king or a father, but like a friend, and Puck
somehow appreciated that. "But through our own humanity, we can redeem the evil
of the world," he said. "We can make it better, through kind acts, and by
helping others come to term with their sin. And we can be redeemed in God's
eyes by atoning for our sins and choosing a better way. Like a father, he loves
us and wants us to be better, and like a king, he protects us from ourselves
when we err. All we ever need do is ask for help."
Puck looked down at the Gates of Prayer book in his hand, the tears dripping
from his eyes making little puddles on the cover. He wiped them off with his
hand, and then he saw the tissue Adam was holding out for him, and he took it
gratefully. How did I come to deserve this, he wondered, blowing his nose. How
did I get this man, giving me exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it?
Because I'm pretty sure it wasn't God who sent him to me. Pretty sure He
doesn't deliver up hot Dominant guys on request.
Adam was tugging on his hand, now, and he stood to follow him without thinking
about it, but then he realized they were heading for the smaller group sitting
near the front of the synagogue. "I didn't even look at the fucking music," he
whispered.
"Don't give me that," Adam said with amusement. "I know you can sight-read just
fine."
They sat beside the man who'd spoken with them earlier, who gave Puck a wide
smile. "Glad you could join us," he said. "Tenor or baritone?"
"Baritone, I guess," Puck muttered. He looked at the cover of the music: On
Children, by Sweet Honey in the Rock, set for SATB ensemble. Lyrics based on
the poem by Kahlil Gibran.
"We have a special treat for you today," the cantor said, raising his melodic
voice. "The sermon we had last week was about Kahlil Gibran, the Lebanese-
American philosophical essayist, novelist, mystical poet, and artist. His most
famous book, The Prophet, has been a bestseller since the 1920s. Gibran
believed that if a sensible way of living and thinking could be found, people
would have mastery over their lives. Today, our choir brings us a setting of a
chapter of The Prophet, originally performed by the a cappella women's choir
Sweet Honey in the Rock. We hope you enjoy it."
He raised his hands, the pianist gave the starting pitches, and they began.
http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=rh4fgYGEKL8
Puck found himself pulled into the rhythm of the piece, enjoying the
syncopation and spare harmonies. But when they were done, he turned to the last
page, where the original poem was written out in full - and just as when Adam
had sung to him, somehow it seemed like the words were just for him.
He was doused with an overwhelming sense of awareness, of himself, in relation
to the words on the page, the chair he was sitting on, the congregation around
him, the building, Santa Fe... and the long road, leading back to Ohio, back to
Kurt, back to his daughter, even back to Finn – and away from Adam.
On Children
Your children are not your children.
 They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
 They come through you but not from you,
 And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
 You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
 For they have their own thoughts.
 You may house their bodies but not their souls,
 For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
 which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
 You may strive to be like them,
 but seek not to make them like you.
 For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
 You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
 The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
 and He bends you with His might
 that His arrows may go swift and far.
 Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
 For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
 so He loves also the bow that is stable.
They stayed seated with the choir for the rest of the service, singing the Mi
Shebeirach, the prayer for healing, then the blessing on the wine and the
concluding prayers. Somehow, after singing, he felt more calm. The service
didn't seem so hard, anymore, to sit through.
As they finished the Aleynu, the cantor said, "The congregation may rise for
the Mourner's Kaddish, in memory of those who died within the past year."
Adam nudged him. "Are you going to do it?" he said. Puck nodded, and Adam gave
him a smile suffused with affection and pride. "Kol hakavod."
Hell - I could use some good luck. His face was red as he shuffled to his feet.
"You are invited to speak the names of those you are mourning," said the
cantor. The room was silent, and into the silence came the names, more than
Puck would have expected. People die, he thought, and it was something of a
revelation. People die. It just happens.
"Ruth," he said, feeling his voice catch, and tried again, stronger this time:
"Ruth Hannah Kohn Puckerman."
Adam took his hand and gripped it firmly as Puck stumbled through the Aramaic
of the Kaddish, feeling it come back to him as he spoke the ancient words,
older than Hebrew: Let the glory of God be extolled, let His great name be
hallowed, in the world whose creation He willed. May His kingdom soon prevail
in our own day, our own lives, and the life of all Israel…
And fuck, if he didn't feel better, after the final Amein.
The reception afterwards was lively and friendly. More than one person
approached Adam to welcome him and make some polite comment about American
Idol, but nobody was obnoxious about it. Puck found himself being largely
ignored, which suited him fine.
But as he was sampling the raspberry rugelach, he felt a touch on his elbow,
and turned to see the smiling face of the rabbi. "Your first time here?" he
said.
"Yeah," Puck said. "Just passing through from Ohio."
The rabbi nodded. "I noticed you spoke for someone, during the Kaddish."
"My... my mother. She died last week."
He didn't seem surprised, and Puck was relieved not to see pity on his
face. I've had enough fucking pity. "Do you know why we recite the Kaddish for
those who had died?"
Puck paused in chewing the raspberry pastry. "Not really. It's not
really about death, is it?"
"No," said the rabbi. "After a great loss, like the death of a parent, people
often lose faith in God. They can't understand why God could be so unjust as to
allow their loved one to die. The recitation of the Kaddish reaffirms their
faith, publicly, in front of their whole community." His eyes were kind. "It
reflects well on your mother, to have raised a son who can express such faith
in the face of personal loss."
Puck scratched his neck. "I don't know if I actually believe," he said. "Like,
any of this stuff."
"That's okay," said the rabbi. "You said it. It's a start. Try it again
tomorrow and see how it goes."
He smiled at Puck again, and wandered away, presumably to say cryptic things to
other members of the congregation. Puck saw Adam watching him from across the
room. He held very still as Adam approached him, making his way through the
crowd, and when he was close, he nearly gave in to his overwhelming urge to lay
his head on Adam's shoulder.
"How are you feeling?" asked Adam.
"I'm tired," he sighed. Adam reached up and cupped his cheek, brushing a thumb
over his eyebrow. It felt far too intimate for the middle of a synagogue, but
he leaned into it anyway, closing his eyes, letting Adam's touch keep him in
the present.
"Let's go back to the hotel." Adam took his hand and led him through the
reception to the exit, waving at the ushers. Puck could only follow, back to
the parking lot, to the car, where the driver was waiting.
The door to the Cadillac was barely closed all the way before Adam's arms were
around him, cradling him, stroking through his hair, and he responded
immediately, letting Adam caress him, and the importance of the moment, of this
whole fucking weekend, came forth in his kiss. "You did so well, honey," Adam
murmured. "I was so proud of you."
Puck rested his forehead on Adam's collarbone, and let his eyes fall closed.
"I'm really glad you made me."
===============================================================================
So walk me through
 Back through the fields
 When I walked down
 That road I find
 I already know
 On with the show
 If there's a god
 Then god only knows
 Walk me back through
 Fields I knew
 - Adam Lambert, "Fields"
Chapter End Notes
     Full attribution of the chapter on the reading from Noah and most of
     its commentary is given to http:/ torahportions. org, which in turn
     adapted the work of Torah Club at http:/ www. ffoz. org/torahclub.
     Many thanks also to http:/ www. jewfaq. org/ for basics about aspects
     of a typical Saturday service, as well as the expectations of a son
     mourning the death of his mother. I am not a rabbi, nor am I a
     scholar or practitioner of Judaism, and any mistakes or errors in the
     interpretation of a reform Shabbat service are mine alone.
***** Chapter 6 *****
I like the top… sorry… that's inappropriate.

- Adam Lambert, US Magazine, May 2009
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJ4kj3r3mQY
===============================================================================
CHAPTER SIX
They dropped Adam off at the door of the hotel alone, and sent the car around
to the other side of the building to let Puck out on the sidewalk. "Go in the
service entrance, there," said the security guard. "We'll have someone to meet
you at the elevator."
Puck felt a little like a second-class citizen and a little like a spy,
sneaking around like this, but he knew it wasn't because of anything Adam did
or didn't like about him. It was just to protect their privacy, for both of
them. He thought about getting hounded by cameras or reporters back in Lima,
and shuddered. Kurt would really hate that.
He hovered a few moments in the kitchen, watching the chefs bustling around,
prepping for lunch. "You like working here?" he asked one man wearing a chef's
hat.
"Sure," he said, startled. "I mean, I don't get much time off, but it's pretty
good pay."
"Noah," he heard, and looked up to see the young man from the hallway this
morning - Tommy - glaring at him from the front of the kitchen. He gestured,
and Noah waved at the chef before heading toward the door.
Tommy was short, maybe four inches shorter than Puck, and he didn't have
anything on Adam in the presence department, but Puck still felt a little
abashed at the annoyance he saw on his face. "Sorry," he said.
"He's waiting upstairs," Tommy said briefly, pointing at the service elevator.
"You're his guitarist?" Puck asked. He stepped to the back and waited while the
doors closed.
"Bassist," Tommy corrected. He sighed, looking Puck up and down. "What are you,
like, twenty years old?"
"Something like that," Puck said. He hesitated a moment before adding, "Does he
do this a lot?"
"No," said Tommy emphatically. "And never before a performance. Ever. He's
obsessive about getting good sleep and not partying before going on stage." His
glare kicked up a notch. "Do you have any idea how important tonight is for his
career? It's what he's been working toward for his whole adult life. It's the
fucking American Music Awards."
Puck just shrugged. "I can't say I'm sorry," he said softly. "This wasn't
something I expected, either - but it's huge, and I... I just can't apologize
for that."
Tommy studied his face, then sighed again and grimaced. "I got it," he said.
"He wouldn't be taking you to synagogue if it wasn't important."
The elevator slid open, and they both stepped out onto the sixth floor. "And
we're not, like, partying," Puck said, as they paused outside Adam's door.
"We're just... uh." He felt his face go a little red, but Tommy only nodded.
"You need a ride to the airport later?" Tommy asked, backing away down the
hall.
"No," he said. "I'm staying here in town."
"Maybe we'll see you around, then." Tommy gave him a little wave. "Take care of
him, kid."
That startled Puck. Am I - taking care of him? he wondered.
He knocked on the door, and it opened almost immediately - and Adam was
standing there, gazing down on him, eyes alight, mouth parted, and Puck just
launched himself at him, hands on any bit of skin he could reach, touching,
holding, desperate for more.
"Too many clothes," he said, and Adam chuckled.
They inched toward the bed, fingers working frantically at each other's
buttons, and when Puck finally tucked his hands inside Adam's shirt, he groaned
at the contact. "Please tell me we don't have to leave this room in the next
three hours," he pleaded.
"At least," Adam affirmed. "I think I might commit bodily harm against anybody
who tried to interrupt, and I'm a pacifist."
Puck laughed, feeling the joy bubble up like champagne, and shed Adam's
borrowed shirt onto the floor. Kurt would stop to pick it up and fold it, he
thought, but Adam didn't seem to care, just let the shirt lay there in a
crumpled heap, and allowed his own shirt and pants to join them there. Adam
didn't seem shy about his own body, and here, in the light of day, it somehow
seemed more real, less like a fantasy. He was still Adam - and, at the same
time, he was just Adam. Puck opened his mouth to say what he was feeling, but
he found himself stymied; the words wouldn't come. He gazed at Adam helplessly.
Adam just shook his head, and ran his hands over Puck's shoulders and neck,
making him shiver. "I know, honey," he mumured. "Right now, it's just us, here,
together. Let's not worry about anything else."
"But that's just it," he said. He took Adam's hand down from behind his neck
and traced the tattoos with his fingers: the Eye of Horus, the infinity symbol.
"I am right here - this is exactly what I want. There's nothing I'm missing."
He shook his head in amazement. "Do you know how long it's been since I could
say that?"
Adam's smile was a little sad. "It's been a long time for me, since I felt like
this mattered," he said. "I guess I always knew it would be hard, to find it,
if I was on the road - I'm not even sure of our schedule after New Year's."
"Maybe you can come visit," Puck suggested. His eyebrow quirked. "The, uh, age
of consent in Ohio is sixteen."
Adam didn't bother to hide his shout of laughter. "God. You can bet my
publicist is going to have a field day when she hears about you."
Puck ran his hands down Adam's back, to cup his ass through his boxers. "I can
be your secret. I don't mind. Secrets are kind of hot."
"You're kind of hot," Adam corrected. "No, there's no kind of about it." His
fingers stroked down Puck's shoulders, to his triceps and down his forearms,
and drew his hands around to link their fingers at their sides. "I'm completely
smitten with you."
"Smitten?" Puck snorted, and Adam giggled adorably. "What kind of a word is
that?"
Adam raised their linked arms and spun him around, sending him stumbling back.
"Infatuated, besotted, obsessed." With one nudge, he caught Puck's knees on the
edge of the bed and knocked him down, standing over him with a wide smile.
"Enchanted. Crazy, gone, gaga." He moved inexorably closer, kneeling over Puck,
his face coming down until their noses touched. "In love with."
Dizzy, Puck felt Adam's breath on his cheek, tinged with the scent of raspberry
rugelach. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Adam said, and descended on his mouth. It was not any kind of chaste
kiss, nothing Puck could call gentle - and precisely what he most craved. Adam
ran a hand slowly down the side of his head and gave him a wicked smile.
"You should probably know," he said, "that I like it rough."
Puck chuckled, tipping his head back. "I think you know by now I'm okay with
that."
He felt Adam's tongue, flicking along his throat, and his teeth marking a
pathway of bites from his ear down to his collarbone, and his chuckle
transformed into a moan. "You ready to let me take what I want?" Adam's hand
replaced his mouth, holding him back onto the bed. "Tell me you want that,
Noah."
"I do," he insisted, fighting against the pressure of the hand on his throat.
"I want it - god, Adam, anything - everything -"
"Everything?" Adam's voice was soft and dangerous. "Can you handle it?"
He tried to nod, but that hand held him fast, and he could only choke out,
"Yes, Adam."
The hand released him so fast he gasped, and had only a moment to recover
before Adam's hand came down, a sharp retort against his backside, and he cried
out, in reaction to the surprise more than the pain. His command hit Puck like
a sledgehammer: "On your knees, then. Down here, on the floor."
He scrambled off the bed, not waiting to be told twice, while Adam swung his
legs over the side to face him, his smile laced with anticipation. "I'm not
asking, here," he said, one hand stroking himself slowly, deliberately, through
his boxers. "I'll give you a chance to slow down, or stop, but the rest is up
to me. Tell me now if this is a problem for you."
"No, Adam," Puck said, his head tipped up to watch him, alert for the subtle
movements of his body, listening, waiting, breathing him in. "I'm ready."
He cupped Puck's chin in his hand, drawing him closer. "You may say edge, if
you're close to coming," he said. "I'm taking charge of that, now." He rested
Puck's cheek against his thigh, and Puck felt the throb of his cock, so close
to his face. "If you need to slow down, you may say yellow, and if you want to
stop, say red. I won't begin again, if you choose to say it, so be prepared for
that. Do you understand, Noah?"
"Yes, Adam," he said, more quietly still, feeling himself slipping into that
dream state, the place from which everything looked safe, and he could put
himself in the hands of someone else entirely. "What can I do?"
"Well, that depends," said Adam, stroking Puck's mouth with a gentle thumb.
"What's your agreement say about me fucking your mouth?"
"I - I'm not sure," Puck stammered, feeling a rush of blazing want at the idea,
while at the same time trying to think about his question through the haze of
submission. "I think... whatever you think is okay." Was that right? He
couldn't be sure, but all he could do was gaze up at Adam, waiting for him to
make the decision.
"This is a mildly risky behavior," Adam mused, "but I'm clean, honey, and I
wouldn't do anything to hurt you, or your family. All the same... I wouldn't
want you to compromise your agreement. Let's keep the fluid exchange to a
minimum, shall we?"
Puck nodded, quickly, happy to oblige, and Adam smiled, secretive and sweet.
"Then you can start with that beautiful mouth," he said, his voice thrilling as
he stood, sliding his boxers down to his ankles. "Right here."
Puck let all his breath out in a happy sigh, and focused every bit of his
attention on Adam: his scent, clean and strong; the smooth skin of his thighs;
the pressure of him, deep in Puck's throat. He heard Adam's groan of approval,
and for the first time in far too long, he felt proud of himself. This, I can
do, was his only thought. This, for Adam.
"Oh, honey," Adam said, in gravel-voiced astonishment. "You know just what
you're doing, don't you?"
Puck gave himself to the task of making Adam moan, pulling out every technique
and trick he'd learned from Alex: the suction of his cheeks, his strong tongue,
the friction of his lips and teeth. It was the sweetest work of his life, this
act of service - because it was done for love. He let his own vocal cords
vibrate, deep and rich, around Adam's cock, eliciting a gasp.
And then Adam was pushing him away, reluctantly. "You'd - better stop." He
laughed, unsteady and trembling on his feet. "That's a little too good. I might
not have the wherewithal to tell you again in a few minutes."
"Someday," Puck said, his own voice masked with desire. "Someday, I want to
give you that. If - if Kurt says it's okay."
Adam's lids dropped lower, and he cupped Puck's face in both hands. "It would
be my great pleasure," he said, gravely. "I would love to meet anyone for whom
you feel such affection."
Puck closed his eyes on the wave of emotion that swept over him at the idea.
"You'd be so welcome," he said, hoarsely. "God. I bet Kurt would
fucking love you."
"We have time to plan that, another time," Adam said, stroking his cheek.
"Right now, you're here for me." He guided him to his feet, with just a touch
of his hand on Puck's chin, raising him up, and coaxed him deftly onto the bed.
"And since you seemed to love it so much - I'll have you on all fours. Now."
Puck moved where Adam guided him, feeling the tingling thrill of anticipation,
that deep fulfillment of desire that came from being on his knees for one of
the people he loved so dearly. He knew he was giving of himself, letting Adam
take something sacred from him, something he wanted desperately to give. The
wanting to give, and the taking - together, they produced that unbelievable
push and pull that made for the hottest, most memorable sex of his life. Again,
he thought of Finn, and again, he marveled at how he wasn't cut to the quick by
the thought.
"Yes, Adam," he said, leaning his head down on his folded arms, letting Adam's
hands spread him wide. "Right now, I'm yours."
Adam's rolling laugh rippled over his skin like a heat wave, and paradoxically,
Puck shivered. "Funny," said Adam, his voice light and amused. "I actually
think you are."
Puck let himself get lost in that laugh, the sound of his voice, his noises of
encouragement and wanting mingling with Puck's own, as Adam fingered him,
giving it to him exactly the way he needed - deep and a little harsh and
stroking that spot inside with unerring precision. "God," he cried, feeling a
second, then a third finger join the first. "Adam - wait, it's too much - I'm -
" Almost too late, he remembered the word Adam had given him, and he choked
out, "Edge."
Adam stilled his fingers, but did not remove them. "You love this," he said,
with clear admiration and satisfaction.
"Yes," Puck said, quivering, not arching back into that touch, as much as he
wanted, oh, how he wanted... "I love it."
Adam's other hand traveled up his spine, dragging on the skin, until he reached
his head, and he gripped the short wisps of Puck's hair tightly in his fingers
and yanked his face back, raised to the sky. "You were made for this."
"Yes," Puck said again, begging, though he had no idea what for. "Yes, just
this - please, Adam..."
"Please what," he purred, tugging harder. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No - god no. Let me feel you, inside - your cock, please - "
"Mmmm," Adam said, with playful reluctance. "I don't know about that, honey -
once I'm inside you, I'm going to want to fuck you hard, and I'm not going to
want to stop. And you're going to want to come, again, and again, and again..."
He gave a final twist with his hand and let Puck's hair go, allowing his head
to drop down. Puck's spine curved up, arching like a cat's, and he kept his
arms firmly folded under his chin, not touching his own aching cock, which
swung suspended between his legs.
He turned his head and watched Adam's hands deftly encasing his own cock in
latex,and couldn't suppress his moan of desire. Adam's still fingers inside him
were starting to make him ache, but Puck didn't care. "I want you so much," he
whispered. "Please."
"Since you asked so nicely," Adam decided, reaching around his hips to grip
Puck's cock in his hand, eliciting another moan, "I'm going to let you wear a
cock ring. But you need to be - soft, in order to put it on. And you are
definitely... not... soft." He stroked Puck's cock slowly, deliberately, and
with absolute enjoyment, making a tut-tutting noise. "You're going to have to
beg me."
"Adam, please..." Puck bit his lip to keep from thrusting back, feeling the
orgasm hovering just on the edge of his awareness, ready to overwhelm him at
any moment.
"Be more specific, Noah," he said. "Just what are you needing, honey?"
Puck felt his defenses coming down, one right after the other, and the words
streamed from his mouth like lava pouring down the side of a volcano. "I need
to - please, let me... I have to come, Adam... god, please!"
"That's my good boy," Adam said, with equal amounts tenderness and desire, and
the absence of his fingers inside him were tangibly painful for just a few
seconds - but then the space was filled, more than filled, by Adam's cock, hot
and pumping deep into him. It was the sweetest, most excruciating relief, and
Puck cried out as he came. His cries were wordless, but the name ringing
through his head was Adam, my Adam.
Puck reveled in the sensation of Adam's torso on the backs of his thighs as he
leaned over him, deft hands slipping... something... around his cock, looping
it around and behind his balls, and then pulling suddenly snug. He grunted in
surprise, and Adam put a hand on his shoulder, leaning closer. "How does that
feel?" he asked.
"Weird," Puck said, honestly, "but not bad." It wasn't, although the feeling of
pressure, of the skin on his cock being stretched back so soon after coming,
was a little intense - but then, there was nothing about this encounter
that wasn't intense.
"It'll keep you from coming again, until I take it off." Adam stroked circles
on his back, chuckling. "But if I read you right, you might need to beg me
again before I'm done here."
"You might... be right." Puck let his head hang loose between his shoulders,
and his whole body quivered with reaction as Adam began to fuck him again.
"It's all right," Adam's voice said. Although his voice was soothing, his
actions were anything but. "You'll be fine. You'll take what I'll give you."
"Yes, Adam," he said in a daze, and lost himself in the rhythm and slap of
Adam's body against his.
Adam had not spoken untruthfully - his strokes were hard and quick, just as the
spanking the night before had been, almost efficient, although this activity
looked like it might go on for a little while - and Puck found his pleasure
carrying through as though on the crest of a wave. The orgasm had barely
dampened his enthusiasm, but Adam had apparently deemed it irrelevant. Adam, he
thought again, as though in a dream. My Adam.
Apparently he'd spoken aloud, because Adam made an approving noise. "Yes... I
like that. Say my name. Say it as loud as you like." He placed one firm hand in
the middle of Puck's back and pressed him, hard, into the bed. "I'll make you
scream it before we're done."
The sensation rolled over him, and he shook harder. "Adam - Adam," he said,
quickly, not even bothering to hide the need in his voice. His arms, splayed
wide under the heavy pressure of Adam's body, scrambled for a hold in the
sheets. He balled his fists and hung on.
"Let me inside," Adam commanded, breathing hard. "Open up for me. You're the
hottest thing I've ever seen, honey, and I want every bit of you - your body,
your heart, your mind. Your soul."
"Adam," he moaned louder. Puck could feel himself being changed from the inside
out, by Adam's words, by the slick, sharp intensity of his cock fucking him, by
the love and heat generated by the two of them, here, together. It went on and
on, almost longer than Puck could believe.
God, he thought suddenly, almost in a panic, how am I going to live without
this? The bed was wet under his cheek. "Adam..."
"Don't worry," Adam said again. The tenderness in his voice cut him deep. "I'm
the one in charge here. You just take what I'm giving you - pain and pleasure.
All of it. That's all you have to do."
That's all, Puck thought, and at that moment, crushed by Adam's body into the
hotel bed, already sore, nerves raw, he felt unbelievably, entirely free.
Adam's pace changed, driven by his own need, and impossibly, Puck felt himself
responding, like a mirror to Adam's breathless thrusts. "Please,
now, edge, Adam - now," he heard himself groan, and immediately Adam's hand was
between his legs, releasing the buckle with one quick tug.
"Go ahead, Noah," Adam urged, and his own wordless growls ripped the orgasm out
of Puck, like his own beating heart, and he shouted Adam's name, over and over.
Adam collapsed onto him, and Puck was flattened into the mattress, sopping with
sweat and come and tears. It felt fantastic.
"God," he said, in a small voice, and started to cry.
"We're okay," Adam said, lifting up on shaky arms long enough to roll Puck
over, and tucked him into his embrace. "We're going to be okay."
Puck's heaving sobs rocked him, and he realized after a time that Adam was
crying, too, murmuring, "It's all right, you're okay, don't worry."
"I love you," he whispered.
"I love you, too," Adam said. "Every bit of you. You gave me just what I
needed." He gathered him tighter, crushing Puck to his chest. "Such a good
boy."
Puck squeezed his eyes tight as Adam's words penetrated, as surely as his body
had done just moments before. "I need this."
"I know." Adam nodded understanding, his cheek soft on Puck's shaved head. "I
do, too."
The tears were done now, but he could still feel the question crying inside
him, alongside the delicious ache that had been satisfied so entirely. "What
are we going to do?"
Adam pulled back until Puck met his eyes. "We are going to appreciate what we
have," he said. "Because it's a hell of a lot. And you're going to get used to
occasional visits from your out-of-town lover." He stroked Puck's face,
smiling, his own eyes shining with tears. "And you're going to go home to your
family, and tell them what you want, and what you need. You deserve it."
"I do?" He could almost believe what he was hearing, here, in this moment, and
he hungered for it, clutched at it as desperately as he had hung on to the
sheets. "Really?"
"Yes." Adam's certainty was a warm cloak around his shoulders, and he felt a
flush of relief. He kissed him suddenly, gentle and loving, and relaxed into
the feeling of utter, sticky, sweaty completion.
"Shower?" he said, and Adam chuckled.
"In a minute. Just let me hold you here for a little bit longer."
He wasn't going to complain.
===============================================================================
Are we ready right now?
I don't know somehow
It feels so right
It's time for our flight
How will we know?
When to go
How will we find
All the time?
- Adam Lambert, "Hourglass"
***** Chapter 7 *****
Falling in love was major. It changed everything, because up until then... I
felt like there was a part of me that was like, "I don't understand something
about life, like a big thing." I listened to these songs on the radio or CDs or
I'd see these musicals about people being in love with each other and what that
feels like and what heartbreak feels like and the joy of what love is and I had
sex but I'd never been in love and just didn't get it. It was really
interesting because during and after that relationship, everything changes.
It's like, "Oh, that's what they were talking about." I thought that was so
corny before and now I am crying because I totally identify with what that
feels like. So that was a big turning point for personal growth.
 - Adam Lambert, interview with Fred Bronson, August 2009
===============================================================================
CHAPTER SEVEN
Adam was cheerful and chatty in the shower afterwards, but Puck didn't know him
well enough to be sure if that was actually how he was feeling or if he was
just trying to keep the mood light. He talked about the music awards coming up
that evening, and his band, and the dancers they'd hired just that week to
dance in his music video. "It's hot," he said, smiling wickedly at Puck, the
spray from the shower soaking his hair. "You're going to love it."
"No doubt," Puck grinned back. He passed the soap to Adam and switched places
with him, taking his turn under the water. "Is there a snake in it?"
"A snake?" Adam looked perplexed.
"Sure. Every sexy music video needs a snake. It's, like, a rule."
Adam considered this, running his hands over Puck's back. "Huh. I think I could
do something about that."
The sense of unreality was heavy on Puck as he dried off, leaving Adam to soak
in the shower a little longer. The hotel bathroom was far too fancy, every
detail unfamiliar. He hadn't even brought his toothbrush. The only thing he had
with him that belonged to him, aside from the clothes he'd worn there, was his
guitar. He slowly pulled on his shorts and jeans, feeling the ache deep inside
to match the bruises on his backside, and wondered if he'd still feel either
one by the time he made it back to Ohio. He hoped he would.
When Adam came out from the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, Puck was on the
sofa, playing random chord progressions. He gave Adam a faint smile and paused
to hand Adam the CD he'd given him the night before. "I realized that I
wouldn't have anything to tell me I hadn't just imagined the whole thing, after
I left," he said. "Do you think you could sign this?"
Adam's face went soft, and he touched Puck's head with tender care. "Of
course," he said, draping the towel over the back of the sofa. He dug in the
box on the counter and came up with a purple permanent marker. "I can do that."
Puck let the chords drift into Kurt's melody, and he hummed along. He wondered
if Kurt had ever mentioned Adam to him before. The thought was a little
strange, but somehow he suspected Kurt knew who he was. Out, gay, sparkly
singer. Yeah - that's for Kurt. "Can you put Kurt's name, too?" he asked.
"Hmm," Adam said, surveying what he'd written, and chuckled. "I imagine he'd be
a little confused if I said this to him, seeing as how we've never even met."
But he scribbled something else on the booklet of the CD and handed it back to
Puck.
For Noah, who reminded me why the music matters, and gave me the greatest gift
a man can receive. Just remember you are not alone in the aftermath. Love,
always – Adam.
Kurt – take a step and fall into the glitter – Adam.
"God," said Puck, stubbornly refusing to give into the tears that threatened to
fall. "The two of you are going to be ridiculous together."
"Oh, yeah?" Adam smiled, sitting next to him on the sofa. Puck gave an emphatic
nod.
"Way too much sparkly shit. I'm serious. I'm gonna have to wear sunglasses or
something."
Adam's laughter was as bright as his smile. He nudged Puck's foot. "You've got
that guitar out for a reason? Who's making music for whom here?"
"No particular reason." He strummed the chords of Kurt's melody, letting them
settle into him, feeling the way they hit him a little differently now. "I like
to play when I'm feeling nervous."
"Do I make you nervous?"
"No," Puck said, "no, it's not you. It's me." The words filtered through the
music, through himself, and he struggled to make sense of them. "I'm… going
back to the way things were, back in Ohio. They're going to be the same as they
were when I left. Everything's still fucked up. But I'm different. I'm…
changed, somehow. You know?" He put a hand on Adam's knee. "You did that."
Adam gazed at him solemnly. "I think we did it together, honey."
"Yeah," Puck said, equally solemn. He cocked his head. "Do you feel different,
too?"
Adam looked away for a moment, and Puck watched a whole host of emotions
flicker over his face – sadness, and resignation, and a hint of bitterness. "I
do," he finally said. "I'm having a little trouble with it, actually."
Puck watched him in silence. Then he said, "Want to sing me something from your
CD? I'm a little curious to hear what's on it, but I wasn't sure if that would
be totally weird, playing your CD with you right here."
"Why don't you save that for after you go home," he said, his smile faint. "But
yes, I'll sing for you. I've got just the song. Capo 3."
Adam sorted through his music and pulled out the tablature, laying it out on
the coffee table in front of Puck. "This one's about the love you have for
yourself," he said. He walked Puck through the chord changes, noting tempo
changes and pauses. Puck felt the intimacy of his gaze as he began:
http :/  www .  youtube .  com / watch ? v PRDBa 8 uP 0 z 4
Have you lost your way
 Living in the shadow of the messes that you made
 And so it goes
 Everything inside your circle starts to overflow
Take a step before you leap
 Into the colors that you seek
 You'll get back what you give away
 So don't look back on yesterday
Wanna scream out
 No more hiding
 Don't be afraid of what's inside
 Gonna tell ya you'll be all right
 In the aftermath
Anytime anybody pulls you down
 Anytime anybody says you're not allowed
 Just remember you are not alone
 In the aftermath
Adam's effortless voice, soaring up to the high notes, took his breath away,
and he felt a sense of anxiety he hadn't expected at Adam singing to him
today. Yeah, I'll be all right. Doesn't mean I have to like it. He just wanted
to lose himself in Adam, to forget all the other responsibilities and promises
and people in his life, and immerse himself in the world of hotels and music
and hot sex and everything Adam had become for him. But Adam's steady gaze,
boring into him, gave him a reason, if not an inclination, to claim those
responsibilities and do something about them.
You feel the weight
 Of lies and contradictions that you live with every day
 It's not too late
 Think of what can be if you rewrite the role you play
Before you break you have to shed your armor
 Take a trip and fall into the glitter
 Tell a stranger that they're beautiful
 So all you feel is love, love
 All you feel is love, love
Adam's hand came up and touched his cheek, and Puck stopped playing for a
moment, letting himself feel that. All you feel is love.
"You are beautiful," Adam said.
"I'm not a fucking stranger," Puck observed, and Adam smiled.
"No," he agreed. "Not anymore." He gathered up the music and stacked it neatly.
"Hey, I wasn't done," Puck said. "There was another chorus."
"Honey, you can hear it any time you want. The CD version's a little more
polished, but it's pretty much the same." He shook his head, grinning. "Really,
though, I think you're going to like the title track best. It might feel a
little... familiar."
Puck grinned back. "I kind of felt that already, with the first two you sang.
Holy shit. It's like the songwriter got into my head and wrote it all down."
"Seriously, I know," Adam effused, in such a Kurt-like expression that Puck had
to pause and blink a bit to clear his head. "I swear, I'm going to call Alecia
up - Pink - and tell her about this weekend, just so she'll know how her songs
seem to be running parallel to my life. Glitter in the Air? Totally not even
written for me, but somehow, it was."
Then Adam reached out and touched Puck's guitar. "I'd like you to sing
something for me, now. We only have a few more minutes. Would you give me a
song to hold in my heart, before I have to get on that plane?"
Puck nodded. "Sure. Are you nervous about the performance?"
"Honestly? Not really. I like performing; it's fun. I pretty much throw myself
into whatever it is I'm doing, if you hadn't already figured that out."
"I can relate," Puck said, stroking the curved body of his Taylor. "Well...
okay. Here's one I was going to sing in Glee before leaving town, but I never
got to perform it. My mom died, and everything had gone to shit, and I just
figured I'd forget it. It's a Gershwin song. You know him?"
"Noah," Adam said, patiently. "I've done professional musical theater since I
was ten. And I'm gay. Yes, I know Gershwin."
"Really? You did, like, musicals and stuff?" Puck was arrested by the idea.
"What did you do?"
"Hmmm," Adam said, peering at him from black-lined eyes. "Some shows you
wouldn't have heard of. Finian's Rainbow, back when I was only a little older
than you, right after I quit college. Hair - I toured with that show in
Europe."
"No kidding," Puck said, laughing, leaning on his guitar. "Our show choir
director had us do a mashup of Crazy in Love and Hair. We wore wigs and
everything. It was pretty awful."
"Oh, dear," Adam said, his eyebrows expressive. "Hmmm. Show choir... really?"
"Yes, really," Puck insisted. "Glee is awesome. We went to nationals last year.
You can see us on Youtube."
Adam looked bemused. "I'll look for it. I did a terrible musical with Val
Kilmer called The Ten Commandments, in LA. And I understudied Fiyero
in Wicked." Adam grinned. "You can find me on Youtube, too."
"Wicked - holy shit, really?" He looked incredulous, and Adam nodded
affirmation. "Kurt sang that one song... Defying Gravity. He can totally do all
those girl songs."
"I'd love to hear it someday," said Adam. "But right now, I want to hear you.
You've got a fabulous voice, you know. Which Gershwin have you selected just
for me, Noah?"
"Uh," said Puck, his ears burning, and began.
http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=-u4rNY4f5tE (with wrong pronouns, oh well)
There's a saying old, says that love is blind
 Still we're often told, "Seek and ye shall find,"
 So I'm going to seek a certain guy I've had in mind
Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet
 He's the big affair I cannot forget
 Only man I ever think of with regret
I'd like to add his initials to my monogram
 Tell me, where's the shepherd for this lost lamb
Puck had spent the weekend avoiding looking at Adam too closely while he played
the guitar, for fear of getting too caught up in the music and losing track of
the guitar part, but now he found his eyes wide and blinking as he sang to him,
pulled to Adam as though by an invisible tether, unable to look away.
There's a somebody I'm longing to see
 I hope that he turns out to be
 Someone who'll watch over me
I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood
 I know I could always be good
 To one who'll watch over me
Adam looked a little floored by the line about the little lamb, and his eyes
filled and spilled over as soon as Puck said the words "always be good," but
Puck steadfastly kept his gaze on him, refusing to let his voice waver, even on
the high notes.
Although he may not be the man that some think of as handsome
 to my heart he carries the key
 Won't you tell him please to put on some speed
 Follow my lead, oh how I need
 Someone to watch over me
He may be far, he may be nearby
 I'm promising hereby
 To my heart he'll carry the key
And this world would be like heaven if he'd
 Follow my lead, oh how I need
 Someone to watch over me
"Someone to watch -" he sang, and choked on the last line. Adam reached out and
put a hand on his, on the guitar, lifted it smoothly away and laid it to the
side, with precise care. Then he pulled Puck in, onto his lap, tucking him into
his chest and wrapping him up, warm, safe and protected.
"God," Puck cried, bent nearly double in pain. "Oh, god, I miss him... I miss
him so fucking much."
"I'm sure he misses you, honey," Adam said quietly, rocking him every so
slightly. "You're a lot to give up." His hand on Puck's shoulders cradled him
closer. "Shhh. It's okay. I've got you."
Puck shook his head in a panic. "Are you sure... are you sure I didn't just
dream you?" He reached out a pleading hand to Adam's face, just inches from his
own, but even the touch wasn't enough to reassure him. "Because you're going
to leave, you're just going to fly away back to California, and I'm going back
to fucking Ohio. And I'm going to be alone, again."
"No. Honey, no. You're not." Adam's calm, firm voice cut through his miasma of
despair. It was nothing like Finn's, and yet, in a way, it was. "You're not
going to be alone. Kurt is there, remember? And all your other lovers, they'll
say the same thing. No matter where you are, we love you. Didn't Alex tell you
that?"
He just settled himself closer to Adam and did what he'd done during Adam's
song: let himself feel. Adam was giving him just what he needed, and he was
going to soak up every bit of it before... before he had to...
"It's going to be okay, Noah," Adam said, still calm, still sure, but Puck
could feel the tears dripping off Adam's face and onto his neck, sliding down
under his collar.
"I need this," Puck admitted. "I need it from you. And I don't think I can get
it over the phone."
Adam smiled. "I travel all over the country, Noah. I suspect, though I can't be
sure when, I'll be coming through Ohio at some point."
Puck felt a stab of hope. "Really? You really think...?"
"I know it. And you can get on a plane, too, right?"
Puck felt absurdly delighted at this idea. He'd never been a plane in his life.
"I could," he said, "but seriously, there's no way I could afford to fly out to
you."
"Honey," Adam said, shaking his head. "I'm not thinking about money. I want to
give you what you need." He backed away far enough to gather Puck's hands in
his, like he was holding a bouquet of flowers. Holding them just under his
chin, he kissed each hand, maintaining eye contact. Puck could feel the tension
snapping between them like a rubber band.
"I know I'm not Finn," he began.
Puck shook his head. "I don't want you to be Finn," he protested.
"Let me finish." He waited for Puck to subside. Tension infiltrated his words.
"If I could be that, for you, would you accept it from me?"
"Be what?"
"Someone to watch over you," Adam said quietly, his sapphire gaze intense.
Puck tried to look away, but one word - "Noah..." - from Adam stopped him, and
he was caught, frozen in place.
"I'll have an answer from you, young man, yes or no," he said severely.
"Yes," he whispered.
Adam made a tiny noise, but didn't break his hold on Puck's eyes. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, Adam," Puck said, his voice cracking, and then he was crying again, the
tears falling in a great wash of relief. Adam gathered him up again, holding
him steady, letting him rock like a boat on the flood of his tears. He would
not be washed away. He would not. Adam had given him a way to save himself.
"That's good, that's very good," murmured Adam. "Such a good boy. Yes... I can
do that for you."
And Puck knew, he knew, that Adam would. He trusted him, somehow, as much as
he'd ever trusted anyone, even in the face of impossible odds. He was ready to
take a flying leap of faith.
"Okay," he said, scrubbing his face with his hand, "okay, I'm fucking done with
these tears. This is ridiculous."
"You had a lot of days of not crying to make up for," Adam demurred. "It's all
part of the process. You're doing just what you need to do, honey. Don't be
hard on yourself for that." But he extracted himself from under Puck's lap,
leaving him on the sofa, and returned quickly with a glass of water, a warm
washcloth and a towel.
"Drink first," he said, and Puck swallowed every drop. Then he carefully washed
Puck's face with the warm washcloth. Puck relaxed into the soft terry cloth and
Adam's touch.
"This is sudden," Adam said, his voice as gentle as his hands. "So I know we'll
both have some thinking to do. But I have a few rules. Are you ready to hear
them?"
"Yes, Adam," Puck said.
"No matter what's happening, no matter where you are, or who you're with,
you'll call me before you go to bed. Every night, just a call to make contact.
Chances are you won't always reach me, but you can leave a message on my phone.
All right?"
The stroke of the washcloth was putting him into a kind of sleepy stupor. "Yes,
Adam," he said again.
"Good. Second... you'll go to synagogue, at home, at least once more before the
end of your mourning period. Recite the Kaddish for your mother. Make that
connection to your own community." His hand brushed over Puck's hair. "Invite
your brother and sister."
"Okay."
Adam picked up the towel and dried his face. It was remarkably tender, and Puck
wasn't sure he'd ever been touched with such sweet attention. I didn't even
know I wanted that, he thought in amazement. Needed that.
"Third... and this one's more of a request, though if I could make you do it, I
would." He smoothed Puck's skin with his hand, catching his gaze again. "When
you're feeling... lost. Remember I love you. Always."
Puck tried to respond, but couldn't, and ended up just nodding. That seemed to
be enough for Adam. He kissed him, lips soft, and hugged him briefly. "Good.
That makes me very happy."
Adam did sound happy, even if his face was grave, and Puck was glad for it.
While Puck put away his guitar, Adam called down to security to send over the
airport shuttle. Puck tucked the CD carefully into his jacket pocket. When Adam
came to the door, Puck was waiting for him.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
He took a single, slow breath. Trusted, just trusted. "Yeah," he said. "I think
so."
"All right," he said. "I probably shouldn't come down with you, so I'll say
goodbye here." He held out one hand, and Puck took it. "You'll watch the AMAs
tonight?"
"Yeah," he said again. "We'll all watch."
"It'll be for you," Adam said. His gaze flickered away momentarily. "I think
most everything I perform will be for you, from now on."
"It won't always be that way," Puck said. "There'll be... you'll meet other
guys. And that's okay with me."
"I know, honey." Adam squeezed Puck's hand. "And if I do, please know that
doesn't mean things will change between us, either. I can still be this, for
you, no matter what."
Puck swallowed, once. No more tears, he reminded himself. "Thank you."
"It's my complete, absolute pleasure," Adam said. "I mean that."
He leaned in, took Puck's face in both hands, and kissed him. Puck tried to
remember all the parts of this kiss, like a puzzle memory - the touch of his
lips, the smell of his skin, the brush of Adam's hair against his face, the
taste of his tongue. The sight of him, smiling his impossibly angelic smile.
"I don't have any pictures of you," he realized suddenly.
"We can fix that," Adam said. "Come on."
They walked out in the hallway together, which was stacked with equipment,
instruments and suitcases. The crew and musicians walking by were
determinedly not watching Adam and Puck, focused on getting things ready to go,
but Adam put out a hand and stopped Tommy on his way by.
"Can you take a picture of us?" he said, and Tommy rolled his eyes.
"You really trust this kid?" he asked, giving him a dubious stare.
"Yes," Adam said definitively. He gathered Puck in front of him, holding him in
his arms, resting his head on Puck's shoulder. "This good?" he asked Puck
softly.
"Yeah," he said, feeling a stupid smile escape, and glanced up at Adam over his
shoulder just as Tommy snapped the picture.
"We've got to get going," Tommy said to Adam as he handed the phone back. To
Puck, he glared once more and said, "That stays off the Internet, got it?"
"Hell, yeah," Puck said, offended. "Who do you think I am?"
"I have no fucking idea," Tommy said, "but somehow I think I'm going to hear
a lot about you in the next few days." He looked at Adam in stony resignation.
"You're in love, aren't you?"
Adam turned Puck around to face him, one hand under his chin. "Am I?" he asked
Puck.
"Yes, Adam," Puck said, and smiled.
===============================================================================
So it would appear
 I left my heart here
 And it would be fair to say
 I've been swept away
 So move in right along
 For you I wrote this song
 If I'm a fool
 So this fool will never be with you
- Adam Lambert, "Wonderful"
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     Two important points that have been mentioned by caring, thoughtful
     readers. One is that it was brought to my attention that it is
     impossible for the passage about Noah to have been read during
     Hanukkah, because of the nature of the Jewish liturgical year. I
     appreciate the reader who mentioned this, because I will certainly
     use it when writing Rachel and Sarah (and Frances') visit to the
     synagogue coming up in Archer's Hand. I beg latitude from my
     knowledgeable readers to allow me this quirk in the story, just as
     I've conveniently juggled the AMAs to December in order to make the
     Archer's Hand timeline work.
     Second, and I can't believe I missed this - Puck said in the last
     chapter that Glee went to nationals last year and that Adam could see
     them on Youtube. Well, NO, because there was no Glee, this being
     SEASON FRICKING ONE. Whoops. I'll have to rewrite that scene a bit.
     Thank you.
     Enjoy Puck's return to the House of the Ampersand. -amy
I think the whole magic of this moment is that I'm not alienating anybody. I'm
not trying to anyway. I want as many people to feel like they can like the
music. I don't want to edit myself to the point where I feel like I don't have
integrity. But at the same time, I feel like I don't want to alienate people,
so it's really hard. It's almost like being a political figure. It's like a
balancing act. I feel really good about how open I've been, 'cause I really
don't feel like I've hidden anything.
- Adam Lambert, OUT Magazine, November 2009
===============================================================================
CHAPTER EIGHT
The truck was barely warmed up before he slid the CD into the player, settling
the signed booklet on the dashboard, so Adam's ridiculous, sparkly picture was
gazing dreamily out at him. "Hi," he said to the picture. "Have a good flight."
There was the sound of synthesizers, a driving beat - and then, even though he
knew to expect it, he was a little shocked when he heard Adam's strong voice
streaming out of the speakers:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1Yy0yeMIVI
I want your body, mind, soul, et cetera
 And one day you will see, you should give it to me
 And I don't want anyone instead of you
 Oh babe I'm going crazy, come on and give it to me
 And I ain't never met nobody better
 You're someone else's baby
I'm so sick of living for other people
 Took meeting you to realize
 I don't wanna lose ya, I wanna keep ya
 Put your little hand in mine and look into my eyes, baby, eyes
 Oh, you make me wanna listen to music again
The first song carried him across town, a smile firmly planted on his face. The
second... the lyrics stopped him in his tracks. It was a good thing he was
close to the shoulder, because he might have driven off the road otherwise. He
pulled over in a hurry and sat there, shaking, eyes wide, as Adam
fucking Topped him over the radio.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IsPFDzAGb4A
So hot out of the box
 Can we pick up the pace
 Turn it up, heat it up
 I need to be entertained
 Push the limit, are you with it?
 Baby, don't be afraid
 Imma hurt you real good, baby
Let's go, it's my show, baby, do what I say
 Don't trip off the glitz that I'm gonna display
 I told you, Imma hold ya down until you're amazed
 Give it to ya til you're screamin' my name
No escaping when I start
 Once I'm in I own your heart
 There's no way to ring the alarm
 So hold on until it's over
Do you know what you got into
 Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do
 'Cause it's about to get rough for you
 I'm here for your entertainment
 I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet
 You thought an angel swept you off your feet
 But I'm about to turn up the heat
 I'm here for your entertainment
It's all right
 You'll be fine
 Baby, I'm in control
 Take the pain
 Take the pleasure
 I'm the master of both
 Close your eyes, not your mind
 Let me into your soul
 I'm gonna work it 'til you're totally blown
Do you like what you see?
 Let me entertain you 'til you scream
"God," he moaned, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. He was sweating,
and he couldn't catch his breath, and he was so hard he thought he might break.
"Holy fuck."
He turned off the CD and sat in the silent truck, idling there, until he could
be sure he could drive again. Then he called the House of the Ampersand.
"Hey," said Nicole, picking up. "You guys taking a break? I didn't expect to
hear back from you this soon."
"He had to leave town," Puck said. "I'm coming back to your house. I need
something to eat. And drink. A big drink. And somebody to sit with me and
remind me I'm not insane."
"Sorry, no can do that last one," Nicole said cheerfully. "But I'll listen to
you tell me all about your new guy. I've been watching videos of him on Youtube
all night. Did you know he did an interview with OUT Magazine a couple weeks
ago?" She sounded admiring. "Holy shit. He's incredible."
"You have no fucking idea," Puck said fervently. "I'll see you in ten minutes.
And get your CD player ready."
===============================================================================
Nicole and Daphne stayed with him for the hour it took to listen to the entire
CD, from start to finish, Puck quivering through most of it, giving him comfort
in the ways they knew best. They were mostly naked and entwined and breathless
by the end.
"I liked that one about the aftermath," said Daphne, her blonde hair spread out
over Puck's abdomen. She stroked his skin absently. "He sounded so sincere."
"He sang me that one," said Puck, and they both made appropriate exclaiming
noises. "And the third one."
"I remember that one from the coffee shop," Nicole said, her arms around her
bare knees. "Except the way he sang it there was more gentle. Here on the album
he's almost angry."
"He never seemed angry with me." Puck thought of the one time Adam had, in the
restaurant, when he'd mentioned his Ma's ultimatum. "Maybe a little
protective."
"That goes with the territory," Daphne said, smiling up at him. "All that
discipline, the rough sex, and not one iota of anger. Pretty amazing, when you
think of it."
"No, no way," Puck said, propping himself up on his elbows. "Not angry. He
was... nice. Like Kurt... but, uh. Calmer. And kinkier." He shivered. "To hear
him talk about it, he didn't have any more experience than we did when we
started. But he sure seemed like he did."
"Maybe he did that stuff, but it wasn't ever more than play, for him," Nicole
pointed out. "A lot of people do that, you know. They don't live it - it's just
another fun thing to try."
Puck nodded slowly. "He did say something about that. That it had just been a
game, before. Hot, but something to put on and take off, like a costume. I...
don't think I can do that."
"No, but sometimes you can do without it." Daphne crept up beside him until
their noses were touching. "Sometimes it can just be two people, connecting."
"Or three," he said, with a grin, and kissed her.
"Sometimes you switch, right?" Nicole added. "You said, you and Kurt."
"Once." Puck remembered that afternoon with startling clarity, when Kurt's day
had been so bad, and he and Finn had come home to find him alone and hurting.
Finn had disciplined Kurt for running away, and then left him in Puck's hands.
He remembered Kurt's need, how it had driven him. Puck had known what to do,
had let it come from deep inside himself, the heat and the control. Over it all
had been the desire to take care of Kurt, to make him feel loved, and to give
him what he needed. "I don't know how often I'm going to want to do that, but
it was pretty fucking awesome."
"So you understand what Adam gets out of it," she said.
"Sure. Of course." Hearing Adam's name, spoken on someone else's lips, was
still a little raw, when he recalled the multitude of times he'd said it,
whispered it, shouted it himself over the course of the weekend. He sighed
heavily and leaned on Daphne's shoulder. "I guess it had been a while, since I
really... let go. Finn and me, there was that lie, hovering between us for so
long... and last week, with my Ma, and Sectionals, and everything... and being
here with you this week, with Alex telling me to wait. I wonder..." He sat up
suddenly. "Do you think Alex knew what was going to happen with Adam? You know,
the way he knows things."
"Maybe," Daphne said, shrugging. "You could ask him when he gets home, but you
know he doesn't always say."
Nicole crawled to the edge of the bed, and hesitated before snagging her laptop
and bringing it up to Puck's lap. She and Daphne flanked him, leaning up
against the headboard, the three of them looking at Nicole's screen with
curiosity. "I'm not sure if you want to hear this," she said.
"That sounds a little freaky," Puck said. "What is it?"
"Adam singing an love song from the musical Brigadoon," she said.
"Did he suck?" Daphne asked.
"No way," Puck said crossly, waiting impatiently for the video to load. "I'm
sure he didn't."
"Just listen," said Nicole.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJYyqzUr6jU
It was a slide show of pictures. The first shot of a younger Adam, leaning in
to the camera, made up pretty, felt like a blow to the stomach. "God," he
groaned, hiding his eyes. But then he heard the voice coming out of the tinny
speakers of Nicole's laptop, and he just tilted his head back and let it wash
over him.
"That's... Adam?" Daphne said, awed.
"That's Adam," Nicole nodded.
"He's so sweet." Daphne was touching the screen, watching each smiling image of
Adam go by, and Puck had to look away again in a hurry.
When Adam floated the high note, effortlessly, and made it go on forever, and
ever, and - longer than forever, and then continued singing... and went on and
held the next note... "How does he do that?" Nicole said, perplexed. "Does he
have, like, an extra fucking lung?"
The last glistening sound of Adam's miraculous voice hung in the air. And then
the applause of that long-ago audience reminded Puck that other people had
already heard Adam sing that song, that thousands of people had heard him sing
at shows, all his life - and that in a few hours, millions more would hear him
performing live. For me, he thought, and for a minute he felt so dizzy that he
wanted to sit down. Then he realized he was sitting down.
"There's more," said Nicole, and Puck whipped his head around to her in
desperation. She raised her hands in mock defense. "What? He's had years and
years of public performances, even before Idol. This one is him in Wicked,
playing the male lead, opposite the Wicked Witch." Her grin was smug. "He plays
a very convincing heterosexual, I must say."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHVskxMEuiw
Puck watched with undisguised fascination as Adam in stage makeup - no
eyeliner, he thought, randomly, or barely any, at all - knelt on the stage in
front of the green-skinned woman, giving her bedroom eyes and caressing her
cheeks. And then he was singing, his voice carrying across the bad recording to
touch Puck, digging under his skin, making him gasp. I'm going to watch this
every fucking day, he thought, dazed.
"You haven't even seen him on Idol, have you?" Nicole said, shaking her head.
"Here. I'm going to leave this with you. All the links are there on the side.
It's going to take you a while." She slid out of bed and walked, naked, to the
kitchen. "I'll get you some tea."
Puck hunched over the laptop, watching clip after clip until his back was stiff
from sitting in that one overwhelmed position, drinking in the sight and sound
of Adam laughing, talking, singing, competing. Even though he knew all those
moments had happened months ago, just as the performances had, they hit him
differently, cut deeper, because they were Adam's real life, and he was not
part of them - and would still not be part of the ones in the future.
"Oh, KISS," Daphne exclaimed, listening to Adam sing a song called "Beth." "I
loved this song."
"Huh," said Puck, listening. "I'll have to check it out. They're the guys with
the crazy makeup, right?"
Eventually it all started to blur together, and Puck had to shut the laptop and
take a deep breath. He stretched his stiff legs and set the laptop on the
floor. "My god," he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Is there anything he can't do?"
"He seems like an amazing person," Daphne said.
"Yeah," he said. He curled up on the pillow next to her, feeling as far away
from this place as he had when he'd approached it from the highway a week ago.
"There's just so much about his life. Stuff that has nothing to do with me. All
that American Idol, the theatre... his album..."
"Give him some time, honey," said Nicole. "I don't think you can expect to know
all those things right away. You just met him yesterday."
Yesterday I think I was a different person. Puck lay back on the bed, staring
at the ceiling, wondering if it was too early to call Adam, and if he wouldn't
seem too much like a needy kid if he did. He glanced over at the clock. 6:20.
"I think I need a nap," he said.
"I'll wake you up in time for the performance." Nicole reached over to take
Daphne's hand and tugged her off the bed. "Sleep well." She turned off the
light on her way out the door.
Puck lay there in the dark, thinking of his phone in his pocket, but he knew
Adam would be rehearsing, setting up, talking with God knows who else. All the
important people in his life. He picked up the CD case and examined it. Adam
didn't even look like himself in that picture. What the hell did they do to his
hair? he snorted.
"You're much hotter in person," he said to the picture.
Then he did lean over the bed and snag his jeans, pulling the phone out of his
pocket, and brought up the picture that Tommy had taken of him and Adam. It was
a little surprising to see the expression on his own face. I really can't show
this to anyone, he thought with dismay. I look like a fucking lovesick puppy.
So then his phone was just right there, and he knew he wasn't going to get
through, but he dialed the number Adam had given him anyway. The voice mail
prompt was generic; no recorded voice of Adam telling him to leave a message.
After the tone sounded, he paused for longer than he should have, and then
finally cleared his throat. "Uh... hi. It's me. Noah?" The name sounded strange
in his ears. "I'm... well, I was just watching some videos of you on Youtube.
The ones you were telling me about, when you were in those musicals. I wanted
you to know, you sounded good." God, this was worse than not calling. He felt
himself getting more tense, hating his awkwardness, but he gritted his teeth
and moved forward. "I hope things go well tonight. Uh, or maybe they already
did, if you don't hear this message until... never mind. I, uh." He closed his
eyes. "I miss you," he whispered.
He hung up, and threw his phone on the floor. "Fuck," he groaned.
Then he scrambled off the bed, searching in the dark for his phone again, and
this time he called Kurt. He sat on his hand to keep himself from hanging up,
repeating again and again: Don't hate me. Please don't hate me. Please...
There was a click, and a fumbling sound, and Kurt's gasping voice said, "N-
Noah?"
God. I'm fucked. "It's me."
"I can't believe... are you okay?" Kurt was anxious, above all else. "Tell me
you're okay."
"I'm okay," he said. "I'm... well, I'm a lot of things, but I'm okay."
"Your mother," said Kurt. "I'm so, so sorry."
The tightening in his stomach was not so awful as it had been. "Thanks. I'm
dealing. You know she wasn't so much to me."
"That's not true. No matter what was going on between you, she's still your
mother. I know what that's like to lose." Kurt's voice was raspy and broken. "I
miss you so much. Please, can't you come home?"
Puck lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "It's a long way back to Ohio.
But I'm starting on the road tomorrow. I'm not sure... not sure how long it'll
take, but..." He fought against the desire to promise more than he could
deliver. "A couple days."
He could hear Kurt's breathing, and he could almost feel him there in the dark
next to him. "Thank you," he said. "It's been a hell of a week."
He choked out a laugh that was more like a sob. "Tell me about it."
"Talk to me. I just want to hear your voice. Please..." A frantic Kurt on the
other end of the phone was just about the worst thing he could imagine, and he
struggled to oblige.
"Uh. I went to see Toby. He was really nice. Did Mr. Schue tell you?"
"Yes - Toby sent us a text of you in Denver. That was... yes." Puck heard him
sigh. "Where did you go after that?"
"Pretty much right from there to Santa Fe. I stopped at a few open mics along
the way. Played a lot of guitar. Therapy, I guess." He realized there was one
song he'd left for Kurt that he hadn't gotten feedback on. "Did you - the CD,
did you...?"
"I haven't been listening to much else, Noah." Kurt sounded overcome. "That
song... it's beautiful. You and Mercedes, the two of you - it just kills me."
"It's not supposed to hurt," he objected.
"Only in the best way," Kurt promised. "Yes, I love it, so much. Go on,
please."
"Santa Fe. It's been... Nicole and Daphne and Alex have been taking good care
of me. I mean, they've been really awesome, but Alex... he said I wasn't ready
for... well, anything involving my ass. Nothing. I just wanted you to know
that."
Kurt sighed. "The four of you - that's part of your history. I don't think...
Noah, I've never asked you not to see them. I didn't figure it was my place.
I'm not upset you're there. They understand, and they know you, and I think...
I think they're good for you." It sounded like Kurt was figuring things out by
saying them, so he just listened. "I don't feel bad about you spending time
with Alex, or Daphne or Nicole."
Puck remembered how it had felt to open the door, after months of being away,
and to see Daphne standing there, her arms open to him, her smile open and
loving, without any kind of judgment - not that he'd ever expected it from her
- and Nicole's heat and passion, and Alex's quiet, solid presence. Their home
was just as comfortable as it ever had been, and he appreciated it more than he
could express, the way they'd let him stay.
"I love them," he said. "I do."
"I know, sweetheart."
It was so good to hear that word from Kurt's lips; he just paused and let it
wash over him for a moment. "They're not my home, though," he said. "I came
looking for home, but I didn't find it with them."
Kurt caught his breath. "Did you - did you find it somewhere else?" he said,
sounding a little strangled.
"No," he said. "Not exactly." He swallowed. "I met someone. A man."
There was a silence. "Okay," said Kurt softly. It was hard to tell what was
happening on the other end of the phone, but he thought Kurt was crying. Puck
cradled himself in one arm, hating what he was doing, and even in the same
moment, feeling the Adam-shaped space in him longing to be filled. How can I do
this to him? he thought. But the answer was clear. He had no choice.
"His name is Adam," he said. "I met him at a coffee shop in Santa Fe. He's a
singer, a real one, like, professional. He knows everything about Alex, and
Nicole and Daph, and you, and F-Finn." He stuttered over that last name; he was
somewhat bemused he could get it out at all. "He - he took care of me. The way
you and Finn do."
"He's a Top," Kurt said. The image of Adam taking Puck over his knee was vivid
in his memory, right alongside Kurt doing the very same thing, and he had a
rush of unbelievable love for both of them, so fresh and real that he could
almost pick it up and hold it.
"Yes," he said. "Definitely. But not just that. He's - god, Kurt..." He held
his breath.
"Just tell me, Noah," said Kurt, and the command was clear. "Don't hold back.
Tell me everything. I want to hear it."
"I went back to his hotel with him," he said in a rush. "He put me in the
corner and I told him everything, and he s-spanked me, and then we... we..."
"You had sex," Kurt said flatly.
"No," Puck protested. "We made love, baby. It was unbelievable." He shuddered a
breath and wrapped his arm tighter around himself. "We fell in love, me and
Adam. Just like that. It wasn't anything we intended to have happen, it just...
did."
"Just like that." Kurt's voice was far away. Then he sighed. "I guess I get
that. Go on."
"Uh... he took me to temple. He's Jewish. He made me say the Mourner's
Kaddish... it's a prayer thingie, you're supposed to say it when someone...
dies."
"How was that?"
"Weird," he said. "But good. I think it helped me. The rabbi... well, I'll tell
you about that later. But it was, uh, enlightening."
"I'm glad, sweetheart. What else?"
"He sang to me. In the coffee shop, something from his album, and again at the
hotel. I sang to him, too. He gave me a copy of the CD - it came out this week.
I think... I think you might know who he is."
"Really?" said Kurt, startled. "How?"
"He's on TV tonight. The American Music Awards."
There was a pause. "Noah," Kurt said, a little desperately. "Tell me... tell me
you don't mean Adam Lambert."
"Have you heard him sing?" Puck said. "I missed all that American Idol stuff,
but I went back tonight and watched it on Youtube. He's pretty awesome."
"Noah," Kurt said again, louder, and Puck thought he could hear Burt in the
background, saying, "Kurt, come on, sit down."
"He's just a guy, Kurt," he insisted. "I don't care about that stuff. He's
just Adam." The name caught in his throat, and the next sound that came out was
a wobbly groan.
"Sweetheart..." Kurt was breathing hard, and his voice was about half an octave
higher than usual. "Adam Lambert?"
"At first, it was like, he reminded me of you," he said, and Kurt made a
choking noise. "Uh, that's a compliment."
"I took it as one," Kurt sputtered. "How did you even... to his hotel room? He
sang to you in the coffee shop? And you..." His voice dropped to the loudest
whisper Puck had ever heard. "I didn't know he did that... stuff... like we do.
And... he has a boyfriend!"
"No," said Puck, thinking of Drake glaring at him. "They broke up, like, last
month."
"Really? Because they seemed so snuggly in those photos from..." Kurt cut
himself off. "God. I am not gossiping about Adam Lambert with you."
"I don't think it counts as gossip if it's real."
"Real. This... this is real, Noah?" Kurt's voice was awed.
"Hell, you got a phone call from Lady Gaga," Puck pointed out. "What the fuck
difference is there? Isn't this the least of our weird fucking life?"
"God." Kurt smothered a surprised laugh. In a completely normal, amused voice,
he said, "I really miss you."
"I miss you, too. That's why I didn't call before. I didn't think I could
handle talking to you. But being with Adam... he really helped me. I'm better.
Things with Finn - I think I can deal with it now. I don't feel quite so
guilty."
"Guilty?" Kurt sounded positively shocked. "Noah - you don't have anything to
be guilty about! He's the one... god, you have no idea. He's been a wreck, he
barely left his room for four days..." He heard a sound of protest. "Well, you
didn't."
Puck sat straight up in the dark, his cheeks burning. "Finn... Finn's there?
Has... you don't have me on speakerphone, do you?"
"No. But, sweetheart, we're all here. My dad and Carole and Sarah. Timothy's
been here, on and off, too."
Puck just about passed out at the idea of Burt hearing Kurt talking about
Puck's exploits with other people, but that feeling was eclipsed by the
question that bubbled up inside him. "Why? Why are they all there?"
"We're all waiting for you to come home."
"Oh," he said. Now the guilt came down on him like an avalanche, and he cringed
under its weight. "I'm sorry."
"I know you did what you felt like you had to do. And - I'm glad
that... Adam... could help you. Mostly I'm relieved to hear you still want to
come home."
He shook his head, back and forth, trying to shed the guilt. "Kurt... I don't
know where home is. I left because I didn't have a place. Your house, Finn's
house... I need a place for me. I just don't know how to find it."
"But you still want... me."
"Yes," he whispered, "God, yes. Every day. It killed me to leave you."
Kurt didn't sound convinced. "Even though you have... him? Seriously, Noah, how
can I compete with Adam Lambert?"
"You don't have to." He heard Adam singing to him in his head, and he thought:
 Trusted, just trusted. He took a deep breath. "I think I love you more than
before."
"Noah..." He heard Kurt's sob, and right then, it felt like if he couldn't
touch him, that he would combust, just go up in flames right there. He
struggled through it, listening to Kurt dealing with his anguish.
"I... I don't get it," Kurt choked out at last.
Puck struggled to put words to the feeling. "It's like... the new love, it
makes all the other love I feel for you, and... and everybody, it makes
it more. Like there's a fire inside me, and it blazes up higher when a new fire
catches. It's not instead of. It's also." He sighed, hearing Kurt crying quiet,
sniffling, and finally he blew his nose. "Don't you love me, and Finn, too?"
"Yes," Kurt said. "I still don't understand that, either. And Adam... is he
okay, with you having... me?"
"He can't wait to meet you," he said, and Kurt let out a completely undignified
squeal. "He signed his CD for you," he added, just to hear it again.
"I'm not going to hyperventilate," Kurt chanted. "Okay. This is... surreal
doesn't begin to cover it. Just... if you come back ho... here, I think we can
figure out the rest. Just come back."
"I will, baby," he promised.
The light in the hallway snapped on, and Nicole stuck her head in through the
door. "You should come out now, sweetheart. It's starting, and I don't know
when he's playing exactly." She cocked her head. "Who are you talking to?"
"Kurt," he said, holding up the phone, and her eyes lit up. She smiled at him
and nodded approvingly. Then, to Kurt, he said, "Do you... do you want to stay
on the phone with me while I watch the performance?"
"That would be... yes. I would. And I think, judging by her wild
gesticulations, Sarah would like to talk to you."
"Okay," he said. He heard the shuffle of the phone being passed.
"You're the biggest pain in the ass brother ever," she complained. He grinned
at the sound of her voice, pulling on his shorts. "Seriously. I think you broke
Finn. He looks terrible. Nobody can do anything around here except whine about
you. And what's this about Adam Lambert?"
"Hey, squirt," he said. "Yeah. I'm in love again. He's fucking incredible."
"You get all the boys." She snorted. "I'll be lucky if anyone even invites me
to the winter dance."
"You're not old enough to be thinking about that shit," he objected, struggling
into his shirt. "And any boy who tries, I'm going to kick his ass."
"Whatever, Noah. Do I need to kick your ass for hurting Kurt? You didn't do
anything you shouldn't do, did you?"
"I think you have to ask Kurt that," he said, with another twinge. "I don't
really know. It - it was just kind of impossible to do anything else."
"I guess love is like that. Tatenui looks like he's going to punch something,
though. You're in for it."
"Who?" The Yiddish word meant father dear.
"Mr. Hummel," Sarah clarified. "You've got your own catching up to do. A whole
fucking week with no phone calls? Dude." Then, at Burt's "Language, Sarah," she
added, "Sorry. I can't say the f-word anymore."
"Good fucking luck with that," Puck said, feeling a little lost. Nicole and
Daphne were sitting on the couch in their postage stamp-sized family room,
holding a bowl of popcorn. Nicole indicated the space between them, and he
settled inside. "You're gonna watch this American Music Awards, too?"
"Uh, yeah," she said, with great scorn. "Lady Gaga's performing. You want to
talk to Tatenui?"
"I don't know if he wants to talk to me," Puck said nervously, but apparently
the phone was already being passed.
"Puck," said Burt, and it was like a warning.
"I'm sorry," he said right away.
"You've got a lot to answer for," Burt growled. "How many times do you think
we're going to have to have this conversation?"
"Uh… a lot?" He cringed a little, imagining how much worse it was going to be
when he set foot through Kurt's door. "Seriously, Burt… I've always been a
fuck-up."
"I'm not talking about that," he said impatiently. "Puck, I don't care how many
times you mess up. That's what humans do. It's just part of life. I'm talking
about this business about more people. Do you think I have endless room in this
damn house? Is this becoming the Hummel Home for Angsty Lovestruck Boys?"
"Oh." Puck clapped a hand to his mouth, holding back the hysterical laughter
that threatened to break loose. Daphne laid her head on his shoulder, pulling
him closer. He closed his eyes and waited for his heart to stop leaping around.
"Puck," Burt said, more gently. "Nobody is mad at you. Nobody."
"Why not?" he said, hearing the whine in his own voice, and hating it. "I
wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again."
"I know that's what Finn said, but that's not how things are now. We all miss
you and want you to come home. That's step one. Step two is up to all of us to
decide."
"All of us?" he said, that weak, small tone persisting. Nicole kissed his
cheek, holding tight to his other arm.
"Yes," said Burt, firmly. "All of us. Now who the heck is this Adam character?
Because I think Kurt's about to burst into song or something, he looks so
excited."
Puck had the feeling that Adam was not going to be the sort of guy that fathers
liked much. And yet, he also knew that Burt Hummel was not an ordinary father,
and with a son like Kurt… "He's a musician. He was on American Idol last year."
"No kidding?" Burt sounded grudgingly impressed. "Boy, you do get around, don't
you?"
"I don't mean to," Puck protested, but Burt was chuckling.
"Well, I guess you can tell me all about him when you get home, huh? You going
to make it in time for Christmas? I know you don't celebrate that, but…"
"Yeah," he said. "I'll be back by then, for sure. I – I don't know where I'm
going to stay, though. I'm trying to figure it out."
"Okay," Burt said. "You've got time to think about it. We've got a lot to talk
about. Drive safe, okay? No stupid stunts. You pull over and sleep when you get
tired."
"I will." Adam's face flashed across the television screen suddenly, just a
brief shot of him smiling and talking to someone, and Puck felt a jolt of
adrenaline. "Thanks, Burt."
"We'll see you soon. Here's Carole."
More shuffling, and then he heard Finn's mom's calm voice was there, saying,
"Puck – are you okay?"
"A lot better now," he said truthfully. "You know what happened?"
"Finn told me all of it. Or – I think all of it." She sounded almost amused,
and Puck relaxed a little more. "He's giving me the evil eye, so I'm guessing
there's parts I'll never know. That's the way it goes, when you're the parent."
"Yeah," he said. "I guess I'll learn that, someday."
"I guess you will," she said. "When's the baby due?"
"End of May." He thought of Quinn, staying at Brittany's, and wondered if she
was having the same feelings about not having a home. He didn't want to make a
home with her, but the baby would be hers, too, no matter what. She's part of
this family, too, kind of. He figured Carole, of all people, might understand
the next thing he was going to say, so he just went ahead and said it. "I can't
wait to meet her."
"I remember that feeling when I was pregnant," she said, and he could hear the
smile in her voice. "There's a lot of questions I have, but I can wait until
you get back to talk about it. We all want to help, Puck."
He hesitated. "What about Finn?"
"He's hurting." She was matter-of-fact. "I don't think it's going to be easy,
but – Puck, the two of you have been friends for too long for this to be the
end of everything. I'm sure you can work through it."
"It's more complicated than that," he said. Adam appeared on the screen again,
sitting with Tommy, who had on even more makeup than Adam. Nicole pointed,
nudging Daphne, and they chattered over him about Adam's clothes and hair. He
rolled his eyes. Yeah. Complicated is the word.
"It's always more complicated, the older you get. Part of the joys of
adulthood. You're taking it on a little earlier than most young men do, but I
know you're choosing it. That's important."
"You think I can do it?"
"I think you will, no matter how hard it gets. Because a daughter, that's not
something you can run away from. Finn and Kurt, they're not happy without you,
but they're coping. Your daughter - she's going to need you, in a very real
way."
"I know," he said. "I just – I hope it's okay for me to need things, sometimes,
too."
"Of course it is." She paused for a moment, talking to someone, making
insistent noises. "Just say hello," she was saying. Then, to Puck: "Here's
Finn."
"What? No, I –" He heard him say "I can't," and Carole say firmly, "Yes, you
can."
And then, it was Finn's voice, Finn's voice, on the phone. "Hi," he said.
Puck was struck dumb, hearing his own breath rattle in his throat. "What is
it?" Daphne said, watching him with concern.
"Finn," he croaked, and that was all he could get out. She squeezed his arm.
Finn's voice was reluctant. "My mom wants me to tell you that I – that you
should come home."
"That's not my home," Puck said. "That's why I left."
They were both silent again. "I'm not going to tell him that," Finn said to
Carole, angrily.
"You don't have to say anything," Puck snapped. "Don't bother. You said plenty
already."
"Yeah, and why should I believe a word you say," Finn shot back. "Seems like
you can lie to me whenever you feel like it."
"I'm done with that," he said. "Adam –"
"Don't," Finn choked, "don't tell me about him. I can't hear it – I can't."
Then he was gone.
"Noah," said Kurt over the phone, and Puck could hear the same pain in his
voice that he was feeling. He wanted to hang up, to run in the other room, to
bury his head in his arms and never come out... but instead he gripped Nicole's
offered hand, and took a deep breath. He heard Kurt's soft sigh. "Carole
followed him."
"He's scared," Puck said. "And guilty. I know. He needs – he needs what I got.
Kurt, you have to give it to him. You have to help him. Please. Nobody else is
going to understand this except us, and if he doesn't get it, he's just – he's
going to go crazy. You know it."
"I – Noah," Kurt said, hesitating. "He's already gone to see Dr. Howell. He's
seen him a couple times."
"That's good," he said. "Okay." He sighed. "Maybe I should go."
"No," Kurt said, quickly. "Just… stay on the phone. We don't have to talk about
anything. I just want you here with me."
"Baby," he said, and heard the hitch in Kurt's breath. "Yeah… okay. I'll stay."
It was mostly quiet after that, apart from Kurt's snarky commentary about
everybody's outfits. It was comforting; it felt so familiar and homey. Kurt
moaned as Taylor Swift won the pop/rock female vocal award over Beyonce and
Lady Gaga. Alicia Keys sang "New York, New York." Michael Jackson won
posthumously for soul/R&B. Rihanna performed "Hard" ("Is she wearing stripy
long underwear?"). Carrie Underwood did what Puck thought was a pretty ass-
kicking number. Lady Gaga set her piano on fire in the middle of "Speechless,"
which was a little weird, but Kurt approved of the dancers during "Bad
Romance."
"Are you sure he's going to be on?" he heard Sarah say.
"The announcer said at the end," Kurt said. "It's only halfway done."
J-Lo and Whitney Houston did showy performances that made Puck yawn. ("Another
award for Taylor Swift?" Kurt sighed.) Another for Michael Jackson. More Alicia
Keys. Timbaland came on while Puck took a trip to the john, thinking, it's not
his music I care about. It's him.
"We totally need to do that 21 Guns song by Green Day," Nicole said when he
came back. Puck settled on the floor this time, and Daphne rubbed his shoulders
as he waited, phone to his ear.
"Have you been having any more of those dreams – about… your daughter?" Kurt
asked.
My daughter. He had to smile. "Some," he said. "Sometimes she's a little
toddler, and sometimes she's older, like, four. I don't always get to hear her
voice. Every now and then."
"I wonder if she'll really sound like that, someday," said Kurt. "By the time
we graduate from high school, she'll be talking."
"By the time you graduate, you mean," he said.
"What do you…" Kurt sounded confused for a moment. Then he made a noise of
outrage. "Noah… you can't drop out of school."
"I've got to make money, and I've got to take care of her." He leaned his
elbows on his knees. "You got some other way for me to do those two things?"
There was a pause. "Deal with this when he gets back," Burt was saying from the
other room. "Don't try to solve this tonight. He's exhausted."
It was true; Puck was exhausted, his head drooping, but he wasn't going to miss
Adam for anything. "Maybe Miss P. will have an idea," he murmured, closing his
eyes just for a second.
He half-listened to Kurt complaining to Sarah about Taylor Swift winning Artist
of the Year, but the mention of Adam's name on the television caught his
attention. The glowing ten-foot words reading ADAM LAMBERT flashed across the
screen. Puck felt the crawling tension in his gut.
"He's on," Daphne said with excitement. "I'm so nervous, and I've never even
met him!"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UP4lnWqQ-oA - definitely watch this one if you
haven't seen Adam's performance at the AMAs!
Adam's voice drifted from the speakers, and there he was, sitting on a stool in
the center of the stage, in his grey suit, makeup heavy and hair spiked up.
"What is that thing on his shoulder?" Kurt wondered. "It looks like a robotic
hedgehog."
Puck listened as Adam's high note broke, and they went into the full stage
performance of the song that had affected him so completely in the car. "I
can't believe they're letting him do this song," Nicole said. "It's totally
over the top."
"That's Adam," Puck said.
"Is he walking that guy across the stage on a leash?" he heard Sarah demand,
and Puck felt his entire face flush as Adam pulled the dancer's face into
his fucking crotch.
"Oh my god," Kurt said mildly.
"Is Burt watching this?" Puck said. He couldn't look away.
"No, he's in the other room. Oooh." Kurt winced. "That note was a little
sharp… and that one. Aaaand that one was flat."
Puck was riveted to the screen as Adam stroked, enticed and subdued his
leather-clad dancers, strutting around the stage. Every time he put his hands
on another person, Puck shivered.
"That's Tommy," he said to Kurt on the phone, "his bassist. I think they might
be lovers."
"What makes you – oh." He heard Kurt make a little throaty noise as Adam cupped
Tommy's head and gave him a deep, full-tongue kiss. "Well."
"That wasn't why," Puck noted, fascinated. "It was just that Tommy was pretty
grumpy around me. I didn't expect he was going to do that."
The performance wound down amid silence, and Daphne pressed mute on the
television. "Well," she said, "it was groundbreaking, that's for sure."
"Hmm," said Nicole, watching Puck. "What did you think?"
"Bad," said Puck flatly. "He was just bad. The choreography was awkward, the
effects were overblown and he sounded like… like he hadn't gotten nearly enough
s-sleep the night before." And then he was crying, burying his face into
Nicole's neck.
"Oh… sweetheart," Kurt said over the phone, and he sighed heavily.
"He wasn't that bad, said Nicole, worried, retrieving the phone from Puck's
loose hand.
"No," he heard Kurt say. "Noah's missing him. I can tell. And Adam Lambert is
typically an excellent performer. Something was definitely off tonight." He
sighed unhappily. "I bet he's missing you, too."
Puck just cried harder, because here he was on the couch with his two beautiful
lovers, and he had Kurt on the phone, after a week of not talking to him - and
all he wanted to do was jump in his truck and drive all night to LA, to be with
Adam.
"I'm going to put him to bed," said Daphne. "Tell Kurt he'll call him in the
morning."
But Puck clutched for the phone as Daphne helped him get up and led him away.
"Baby," he said. "I'm sorry. You deserve better than this."
"I want you," Kurt said. "It doesn't matter what I deserve. Thank you for
calling. Get some sleep, and call me tomorrow before you head out."
"Okay," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Love you." But Kurt had already
disconnected the call.
===============================================================================
The flashing of the lights
 It might feel so good
 But I got you stuck on my mind, yeah
 The flashing and the stage, it might get me high
 But it don't mean a thing tonight
- Adam Lambert, "If I Had You"
***** Chapter 9 *****
Obviously, I'm a risk-taker. I'm not easy listening, you know? I'm not going to
always be the most digestible thing for everybody across the board. I'm
specific, and I kind of like to blow it out the box. And either you like it, or
you don't.
- Adam Lambert, MTV News, February 2009
===============================================================================
CHAPTER NINE
It was dark and silent when Puck's phone rang. He sat up, startled, and fumbled
for his phone on the table. No one else was in bed with him. It was an
unfamiliar number from an equally unfamiliar area code. The clock read 2:32 am.
"Go for Puckerman," he said sleepily.
"Did you watch?"
"Yeah." His mouth curved up in an automatic smile. "We all did."
Adam's voice was slurred. "It sucked."
"Yeah," Puck said again. "That kiss with Tommy was hot, though. Did you guys
plan that?"
"All part of the performance, honey. Tommy's straight. His girlfriend doesn't
mind for the sake of the show." He sighed dramatically. "Sadly, the critics
hated it. They're already yanking me from Good Morning America. At least
Letterman's still on."
"You think it was a little over the top?"
"No!" Adam sounded indignant. "It was show business. There's such a double
standard. Guys, we can't be sexual on stage, but women have been doing it for
years. People are afraid of male sexuality, especially when it's not 100%
hetero. Well, fuck that."
"Where are you?"
"On the plane. Thank god for first class: free drinks." He sighed again. "I
miss you already."
"Me, too." He closed his eyes and remembered waking up with Adam, his head on
the pillow, still asleep, angelic in sleep. Not knowing when he would be able
to see that again was excruciating. "Any chance of you coming through Ohio any
time soon?"
"Not before the new year, I don't think, but I'll see what I can do." Adam's
voice warmed, and his soft chuckle sent ridiculous spasms of excitement down
Puck's spine. "The performance tonight… we'd rehearsed that choreography
before, but after this weekend, the boy on the leash had a whole new meaning
for me."
"God," whimpered Puck. His hand snuck under the covers and found his cock, hard
and ready, and he gripped it firmly, rolling the head under his thumb. "And you
practically had that dancer giving you a blowjob, on network television."
"I wish it had been you, honey," said Adam, lowering his voice. "Your mouth is
astonishing."
"I'd do that all day, if you'd let me," Puck said breathlessly, and he was
rewarded with a groan from Adam.
"Lots of room on the floor here in first class," he suggested.
Puck tried to picture it, from movies. "I wouldn't know. I've never been on a
plane."
"You're kidding me," Adam said, with a surprised laugh.
"Dude, this is only the second time I've ever been out of Ohio."
Adam was silent for a moment. "Of course; I forgot how young you are."
Puck's fears were loud and obnoxious at 2 am; he tried to dismiss them, but
they nagged at him until he finally had to say something. "That's not… a
problem, is it?"
Adam's silence continued, while Puck waited on tenterhooks, but eventually Adam
sighed. "Not for me. For my publicist. She's trying to convince me to stop
seeing you."
"Like I said, I don't mind being a secret." He rolled over onto his stomach and
tried not to sound desperate. "I could use something to look forward to,
though."
There was another silence. "I could fly you out to me, in LA. There will be a
few days in January when I'll be home. There are some places we could go where
your age wouldn't be a problem… although the age of consent in California is
18."
"See? Another reason you should come to Ohio."
Adam snickered. "I'm not at all sure your boys want me to come there."
"You're wrong," Puck said. "Kurt actually squealed when I told him you wanted
to meet him. And Finn… well, he may be out of the picture, but I'm going to
work on him." He remembered what Toby had said. "He's… he's worth fighting
for."
"I'm sure, honey," he said. He sighed again, but this time it was with calm
relief. "I feel a lot better. Thanks for picking up. I'll try not to call in
the middle of the night, when I can avoid it."
"I don't mind," Puck said. "I'm usually up anyway."
"Will you… sing to me? Before you go back to bed?"
Puck sat up in bed, fumbling for the light. "What do you want to hear?"
"Anything," he said. "Something to remind me why the fuck I'm doing this."
He reached off the bed and opened his guitar case, withdrawing the precious
contents to his bare lap. "Hey," he said. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's
just the bigots of the world who hate what you stand for. You stick to your
guns, okay?"
"I'll do my best," said Adam, amused. "You're very cute, telling me what to
do."
He set the phone out on the bed and pressed the button to turn on the
speakerphone. Then he strummed, feeling the middle-of-the-night angsty vibe,
and reached for something that suited it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzeDqRhM09w
See the stone set in your eyes
 See the thorn twist in your side
 I wait for you
Sleight of hand and twist of fate
 On a bed of nails he makes me wait
 And I wait without you
 With or without you
 With or without you
 I can't live with or without you
"Honey," he heard, as he strummed.
"You want me to stop?" he said softly.
"… No," came the equally soft reply. "Never stop."
Through the storm, we reach the shore
 You gave it all but I want more
 And I'm waiting for you
 With or without you
 With or without you
 I can't live with or without you
And you give yourself away
 And you give yourself away
 And you give and you give
 And you give yourself away
He heard Adam singing softly along, in harmony or unison, as suited the song.
Their voices twinned on the high notes, which didn't sound at all high in
Adam's voice.
My hands are tied, my body bruised
 He got me with nothing to win
 And nothing else to lose
And you give yourself away
 And you give yourself away
 And you give and you give
 And you give yourself away
With or without you
 With or without you
 I can't live
 With or without you
"Thank you," said Adam, with a soft sigh. "Now my drummer's glaring at me for
singing in the middle of the flight. Since he's awake, I guess I'd better
regale him with tales of you."
"You can blame it all on me," Puck offered, setting his guitar down. "I don't
mind taking the fall for you."
"My white knight," he murmured. "Go on back to sleep, now, honey. You're
probably exhausted."
"I'm wide awake now," Puck said, but he turned off the light and lay down under
the covers. "You want me to tell you a story?"
Adam laughed in surprise. "Sure."
"Okay." He breathed in and out, and the image in his mind wasn't Adam, or Kurt,
or Finn, but his father, sitting beside him on the couch, with the book open in
his lap. He began:
"The missing piece sat alone, waiting for someone to come along and take it
somewhere. Some fit, but could not roll. Others could roll but did not fit. One
didn't know a thing about fitting. And another didn't know a thing about
anything."
He heard Adam chuckle. "I think I've met that piece before."
"One was too delicate," he went on. "One put it on a pedestal and left it
there. Some had too many pieces missing. Some had too many pieces, period."
He added here, "I hope that's not me."
"No, honey," said Adam. "You're just fine the way you are. Go on."
Puck obliged, reciting as best as he could recall: "It learned to hide from the
hungry ones. More came. Some looked too closely. Others rolled right by without
noticing. It tried to make itself more attractive… it didn't help. It tried
being flashy, but that just frightened away the shy ones.
"At last one came along that fit just right." He turned his head to the side so
the tears that welled up could fall onto his pillowcase. "But all of a sudden,
the missing piece began to grow, and grow, and grow.
"'I didn't know you were going to grow,' said the one that fit.
"'I didn't know it either,' said the missing piece.
And he went on without him, singing his song." He did the funny voice his dad
had always done, here: "'I'm lookin' for my missing piece, one that won't
increase…'
Adam laughed again. Puck was rather amazed how well he remembered the story. He
continued.
"And then one day, one came along who looked different.
"'What do you want of me?' asked the missing piece.
"'Nothing,' said the one.
"'What do you need of me?' he asked.
"'Nothing,' said the one again.
"'Who are you?' asked the missing piece.
"'I am the Big O,' said the Big O.
"'I think you are the one I've been waiting for,' said the missing piece.
'Maybe I am your missing piece.'
"'But I am not missing a piece,' said the Big O. 'There is no place you would
fit.'
"'That is too bad,' said the missing piece. 'I was hoping that perhaps I could
roll with you…'
"'You cannot roll with me,' said the Big O, 'but perhaps you can roll by
yourself.'
"'By myself? A missing piece cannot roll by itself.'
"'Have you ever tried?' asked the Big O.
"'But I have sharp corners,' said the missing piece. 'I am not shaped for
rolling.'
"'Corners wear off,' said the Big O. "And shapes change. Anyway, I must say
good-bye. Perhaps we will meet again.' And off he rolled.
"'The missing piece was alone again. For a long time it just sat there. Then,
slowly, it lifted itself up on one end, and then it flopped over. It began to
move forward. And soon its edges began to wear away, and its shape began to
change. Then it was bumping instead of flopping, and then it was bouncing
instead of bumping, and then it was rolling instead of bouncing… It didn't know
where, and it didn't care. It was rolling!
"'And eventually it caught up to the Big O.'"
It took Adam a long time to say anything. Puck thought maybe he had fallen
asleep. When he did talk, his voice was thick with emotion. "What happens
then?"
"That's the end," he said. "Or, in the book, anyway, that's the end."
"Do you suppose... they live happily ever after?"
"I'd like to think so," Puck said. "But I guess nobody really knows but them,
huh?"
Adam paused again, and Puck heard a faint noise, like a sniff. "You're going to
be one amazing father, Noah," he said at last.
Puck squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. "That's… god." He waited until he
could speak again. "I've had a lot of people say I shouldn't… that it's the
wrong decision, that I needed to forget it. But… that's the first time
anybody's said anything like that to me."
"Well, I have fantastic parents, so I should know," Adam said. "Plus, I'm
always right."
"Of course," said Puck, his eyes still closed.
"Thank you for the story. I'll never forget that."
"Me either," he whispered.
"I love you, honey."
"Oh," he said, through his tears. "Fuck. I love you, too."
"Call me tomorrow before bed."
"Yes, Adam," he said, and hung up.
Before he set his phone aside, he sent Kurt a text: I love you, baby.
And, for good measure, he sent one to Finn, too, minus the "baby" - because,
holy shit, he thought, everybody needs to hear that sometimes. Especially when
you're feeling bad about yourself.
===============================================================================
Puck woke early the next morning. He made some tea and a pan of his most
impressive breakfast, the crème brûlée French toast – the dish he'd once made
for Kurt and Finn. He left it on the counter, eating his share and doing the
dishes.
Then he went out to the porch with his tea cup, looking out at the horizon, in
the direction of the rising sun, which wouldn't be up for another half hour. It
was chilly, and the steam rose from his cup, disappearing into the indigo sky.
He took a deep breath, and spoke the words of the Mourner's Kaddish:
Yis'ga'dal v'yis'kadash sh'may ra'bbo, b'olmo dee'vro chir'usay v'yamlich
malchu'say, b'chayaychon uv'yomay'chon uv'chayay d'chol bais Yisroel, ba'agolo
u'viz'man koriv; v'imru Omein...
When he was done, he heard the rumbling voice in the doorway say, "You weren't
going to try to leave without saying goodbye, were you?"
"No, sir," he said, without turning around. He took a sip of tea and leaned
back, and Alex was there, warm and strong and never too demanding.
"I don't think that title suits me anymore," he murmured. "You've bestowed it
upon someone else. More than one sir isn't good for anybody, I don't think."
Puck glanced up at him. "Okay," he said. "Whatever you think." He shook his
head. "But Finn, he doesn't want it anymore."
"You don't know that," Alex said. "He's in a place of healing right now. When
he comes out, he'll understand what he needs better. Tops are like that. You
have to give him time."
Puck swirled the last of his tea thoughtfully. "I think... I think he needs to
be taken care of. He's got guilt, and it's hurting him. He needs his own Top.
But who Tops the Top?"
"Mmmm. A good question." Alex absently stroked Puck's head. "Someone he trusts,
above all. Someone who can handle it if he falls apart, if he needs to be
needy. That can be upsetting to a brat who's used to the Top being in charge.
Someone who isn't afraid to be firm."
"Kurt's good at taking care of me," Puck said. "But he's not like Finn. I think
Finn needs someone who's like him."
"I hear you had a moment to Top, yourself," Alex said, pressing a kiss to
Puck's cheek. "How did you like that?"
Puck put a hand on Alex's chest, and smiled to himself. "It was a hell of a
rush," he said. "And scary, too. I mean, what if I messed up? All that
responsibility. I wasn't sure if I could handle it."
"But you did," he said. "In your own way. You took care of your baby."
Puck's eyes dropped closed, and he shuddered, once. "I think I knew what he
needed, even before I knew I did. Does that make sense?"
"Of course." He touched Puck on his heart, and on his forehead. "You knew it -
in here. And here. You can trust your intuition. You let your love for him
guide you."
"It's funny," he said, setting the cup down and putting his arms around Alex's
broad back. "I don't usually want to give that to Kurt. Mostly I want him to
take care of me. But... every now and then, it comes up." He paused. "But there
was this boy I met, at the dance club. He - I felt - I wanted to be that. For
him."
"Did he want it?"
"Definitely," said Puck, without hesitation. "I don't think he knew what
it was, though. And... well, we haven't seen each other since then. I don't
even know his name." He sighed. "I've been thinking a lot about him, though.
It's... frustrating."
"I'm sure," Alex rumbled, and he sounded amused. "It reminds me a bit of a
young man I once met, who visited me for three weeks and then went home to his
own family."
"Oh," he said. Puck felt his face flush red. "I - I'm sorry."
"No need," Alex said gently. He tipped Puck's face up - way up - to meet his
gaze. His eyes were blue, though nothing like Adam's, and they were surrounded
by sun-made wrinkles that made him look wise beyond his years. "You are your
own person, and I'm glad to have known you, just as you are, in just the way
you have shared yourself with me."
"You're doing it perfectly," Puck said to himself.
"If you like," Alex nodded. "I'm glad to have taught you, and to have shared
myself with you, and now to have you go on and share yourself with others - and
to be ready to show others the way to themselves, too."
Puck blinked, suddenly feeling a chill. "Alex... you're not breaking up with
me, are you?"
Alex chuckled. "I don't think I've ever done that before. I don't have the
intention of doing it now. Relationships are fluid. They change and become
whatever they need to be. You and I, we will grow, and change, just as our
relationship does. You and I will always have... what we have." He took Puck's
hands and held him out at arm's length, regarding him solemnly. "And you, and
your otherloves, are always welcome in my home."
"Thank you, s... thank you. Alex." Puck found himself standing straighter as
the breeze of the desert air brushed his skin, and he was struck with a feeling
he hadn't shared with Alex before. It was a feeling of equality. He wasn't
quite sure what to do with it, but it made him feel strong inside, like his
bones were suddenly made of firmer stuff.
And then Alex was crushing Puck to him, his vast arms like tree trunks, and
their lips met in a bruising, searing kiss. Before Puck could even gasp, Alex
had released him again.
"You'd better get on the road," he said, patting his bottom. "Don't want to
keep your boys waiting any longer than you have to."
===============================================================================
November
 Nothing much to remember
 You were not in sight
December
 Change of the weather
 You were by my side
Love
 Is all we want
 Love
 Love
 Is all we need
 It's all that we really want
- Adam Lambert, "November"
***** Chapter 10 *****
I kind of asked for [the fuss around the kiss at the AMAs], in a way… Not
everything is so premeditated as people think it is. There are things that just
happen, there are things you just do.
- Adam Lambert, The Advocate, October 2011
===============================================================================
CHAPTER TEN
Puck's F-150 was in pretty good shape, but he could tell by the noises he was
hearing as he tooled across I-80 that the suspension needed some work. Burt
told me those parts aren't cheap. He sighed, cracking his neck, hoping his
truck would make it the thousand miles back to Ohio, back to Burt's shop and
somebody who knew what they were doing. He sure as hell didn't - not with the
car, and apparently not with his relationships either.
If his CD player had had a playcount, he guessed he would have reached fifteen
or higher on Adam's brand-new CD by now. The number of times he'd glanced at
the inscription on the CD case was more like a hundred. Listening to Adam
singing to him - to him, he thought stubbornly, though of course he knew the
songs had been written long before they'd met - would never get old, but
everything else about this trip, he was fucking done with it. His ass had been
planted on the truck's bench seat for over seventeen hours straight, not
counting stops to piss and get an awful sandwich, and he was ready for a break.
That was what he told himself, anyway, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket
and dialed Lady Tess' number.
"Puck?" Her voice was a little puzzled.
"La- uh, hi, Ms. Riordan," he said, stumbling over the name he had for her in
his head, but had never spoken aloud. "It's, uh, kind of late. Hope I'm not
bothering you."
"Not at all," came the firm reassurance. "It's early hours yet for the club,
Puck. Are you safe?"
"I'm on the road, heading back to Ohio from Santa Fe," he said, cracking his
neck and changing lanes. "I'm kind of in your part of the country, and I
figured I might say hi. You up for some company?"
"Where are you," she asked solidly.
"I'm - wait -" He squinted at the mile marker as he passed it. "I'm about
fifteen miles west of Iowa City on I-80."
"You'll see a Junction for IA-27; head south there, Puck. Then US-34 to
Burlington. I want you to stop in Burlington and call me back. It's much easier
if I just walk you through the back roads as you're driving."
"Thanks," he said, and he meant it. "I'm beat. It's been a hell of a weekend."
"You owe me an answer, Noah," she repeated, a steely edge coming into her tone.
"Are you safe?"
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you talking my body or my heart?
'Cause I'm not at all clear about that second one. But - if you mean the first,
I'm okay."
"Just the body, young man. Santa Fe is a long drive. If you're tired, I can
send a driver out to you - it wouldn't be the first time."
"No, I'm all right." A faint smile crossed his face. "I didn't sleep late this
morning, but what sleep I did get was good. I'll make it fine... but thanks for
thinking of me. I'll call you from Burlington."
"See that you do," came the brisk tone. "Be careful, Puck. People get lazy on
the smaller roads."
"I'll watch for deer," he promised. "And crazy dumb a- uh, people. Talk to you
soon."
The cab felt a lot quieter after that, but he had a sense of anticipation. Lady
Tess owned a club, but that was the extent of his knowledge - although he could
make a pretty good stab at what kind of club it probably was. He sighed. All I
really want is a bed and a meal that doesn't suck. He was ready to turn off his
brain and get comfortable in the dark and just relax.
===============================================================================
Tess sighed and shook her head, slipping the phone back into it's place in the
leather pouch she wore at her waist. She signaled her majordomo, nodding
towards her office. The rounds of the club were complete, everything was set,
and the private party starting to trickle in. It was Sunday, so there were far
fewer people in the club - members only.
"Stephen," she said quietly. "There's a young - a very young - man who will be
arriving in an hour and a half. I'd like you to make certain that the guest
room in my suite is ready, and that my office is a little warmer than it
normally is this time of night," came the wry request. "I'd prefer not to be
interrupted, but of course I am available for emergencies - it should be a
quiet night, that gathering wrapped earlier, and there won't be much traffic
tonight. Staff is on call if you need."
"Of course, ma'am," he said politely. "How young?""
She smiled at the man. One of the young men Beau had spent a great deal of time
with, the military bearing still held. "Back hallway young, Stephen. Thank
you." She moved off to make the rest of the preparations that were absolutely
necessary.
She was seated at her desk, arranging the night's paperwork, knowing she'd have
little time for it, anticipating the work with long practice and a wry smile.
Santa Fe, she thought, and she knew from the boy's voice that something that
happened. Her phone rang before she knew it, and it was ten minutes work to
guide him to the club, and to let Stephen know to bring the boy straight up to
her office. She rose and drew the scrim curtain across the back half of the
room, not wanting the boy to be distracted, limiting the room to her desk, and
the small seating area around the couch.
Stephen's head ducked around the door and silently gestured for the boy to
follow him. Puck moved a little stiffly, in a way that was very familiar to
Tess, but even so, his eyes were clearer and his face more calm than they had
been the last time she'd seen him in November in Ohio. "Hi," he said, with a
shy smile. "Thanks for letting me stop by. Nice place you've got here."
"Thank you," came her formal reply, as she stood. "Now come here, Noah." She
held out a hand to him.
He stepped around to her side of the desk and took her hand, and she pulled him
into a close hug, arms folding tightly around him. She'd have it out of him
shortly, but he looked in need of care, eyes tired. She laughed a little as she
heard his stomach rumble in protest of the tight embrace. In response to her
laughter, he melted into her embrace, the tension going out of him immediately,
and he let out an unhappy sigh.
"Sorry - I haven't had much to eat. Road food kind of sucks, you know." He
sounded mildly affronted at the idea. "I should have made sandwiches myself,
but I was kind of in a hurry to get on the road. I told Kurt I'd be back in
Ohio by Christmas."
She reached into the cabinet behind her desk, and opened a bottle of water,
handing it to him. "Well. We're going to take care of that first, and then
you're - well, I certainly hope you're not planning on getting taller, but
you're too young to skip meals like that, Noah." Her tone was lightly scolding,
carrying no censure.
"I doubt I'm getting any taller," he grinned, running a hand over the stubble
on his scalp, "though that'd be nice. Kurt's almost as tall as me, already; I
bet he's gonna top out at something around six feet."
"Come along now," she said, opening the door, and nodding to security, standing
just outside. She led the boy through the back hallways, and down the service
stairs, the worn wood comfortable under her boots. Her dress swept out behind
her, the velvet and lace trailing, as she ushered the boy beside her, careful
as always that the fabric didn't encumber him.
Puck's eyes went wide as he glanced around himself. The low lighting didn't
disguise the subtle detailing and beautiful wood trim of the renovated hotel.
"Wow," he said in a hushed voice. "This is pretty awesome. Where did you get
this place?"
"It was actually condemned and scheduled to be demolished, when I bought it,"
she said fondly. "Quite a lot went into the restoration, it was a lovely
experience."
"I'd love to cook in a place like this," he said, stopping to run a finger
along an ornate baseboard. "Someday I want to be a head chef in a big deal
restaurant, maybe in a hotel, or on a cruise ship. Someplace where I can make
really amazing food, and people would appreciate it, you know?" He made a face.
"Not much like that in Lima."
She paused, and held out a hand to him. "That sounds lovely, Puck." He took it,
following her lead. The back hallway evened out, worn old carpets back here
still with the pattern showing faintly. The sounds of the kitchen were making
themselves known, and she'd nodded at the last security she passed. It was the
route she always took to the great open kitchen, and she knew that the chef
would be notified that she was coming down with a guest. The aroma of garlic
was strong in the air.
Puck's face went from awed to starving in three seconds. "God. What is that?"
He sniffed. "Rosemary. And... cumin?"
Tess repressed a smile, and gently opened the door to the kitchen, leading him
by the hand into the big room. Some of the original kitchen fixtures were still
in place - restored, and in use as well. The huge cast iron wood stove, with
its ovens and all, was one of her favorite things, and the chef was forever
shooing her away from standing too close, basking in it's warmth. It was kept
scrupulously clean at her insistence, an orderly place. There were long
stainless steel workstations, and equally long expanses of thick butcher block,
and the kitchenware on neat steel racks, and rows of preserves gleaming along
the back wall.
"Oh my god," he said, eyes like platters. His hand went up to the wood stove,
then over to the stainless counters, carefully dodging the prep cooks and sous
chefs in their midst.
"Chef Robins," she greeted, as the head chef came to greet her. "This is my
young friend Puck, James. I don't suppose we could fill him up? I could use a
little something myself." She winked.
Puck held out his hand to Chef Robins with a big smile. "This is f- this is
awesome," he effused, with just enough self-control to keep his dignity. "How
many do you serve in a night? What kind of a staff do you keep? I bet you get
to work with some fantastic ingredients. Do you import the fish from the west
or east coast? What about -"
James laughed. "A young man who knows what he's about down here! That's a
pleasant novelty, Puck. How about a little tour? Tess is having a love affair
with the wood stove in her spare moments; she'll be fine without us for a
little while."
===============================================================================
Puck stifled a burp and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "That was really
delicious," he said, indicating the empty plate before him on the small wooden
table. "And trust me, I don't say that about many things I eat. The beef was
cooked just enough. I like it mostly mooing."
Tess snickered. "You sound like a good friend of mine," she told him. "I'd like
to finish my drink, Puck, and then..." She looked the young man up and down
carefully assessing. He was calm, more together than she'd seen him before,
even though she could see from the set of his eyes, how he carried himself,
that there was a heavy burden on his heart. "Perhaps a tour of the club
facilities?"
His eyes lit up. "Yeah," he said, with enthusiasm, pushing out his chair. "Can
I help clean up first?"
Such a delightful sub, and at such a young age. "They're particular - the far
counter, please. They'll appreciate it, the kitchen gets a lot of orders coming
in from about this time of evening on out.
Puck went to the sink at once, gathering his nearly-clean dishes and dunking
them into the soapy water, grabbing a sponge to begin the three-sink procedure
that was standard in most commercial kitchens. He clearly didn't have a problem
getting his hands dirty. Tess smiled and shook her head, and James took a brief
seat next to her, a glass of water in his hand. They both watched the eager
young man.
"A little younger than the ones you usually have here with you."
"Certainly. Friends of John's, actually, his family. He's still in need of
guidance though - I'd rather make sure he has the knowledge of how to stay
safe, and not have to rescue him in a few months, or even a few years."
The chef's face softened. "Of course. I'd be happy to have him down here with
me, he doesn't seem like he'd be underfoot, if you'd like, Tess."
Puck approached the two of them, drying his hands on a towel. "All set. I let
them dry in the rack, if that's okay."
Tess set her wineglass down, and James rose in just enough time to hand the
elegant woman to her feet, with a courteous nod.
"Thank you, James, as always. Puck? Come along now."
Puck followed willingly as they passed through the door to the club proper, the
atmosphere abruptly changing from calm business to public excitement. His
attention diverted, he began heading toward some sparkly thing, until she
stopped him with a firm hand on his arm.
"Now then. There are a few guidelines that you will follow, young man. The
first - you are to stay with me at all times. You will not wander off on your
own, you will go nowhere in this building unless I am with you. You are
underage, and I will not risk my livelihood on your curiosity, Puck."
"Yes, L- Mrs. Riordan," he said.
"It's all right to call me Tess, sweetheart. If anyone so much as sees you away
from my side - and security is thorough here - I will personally escort you to
the door, and I'll be making phone calls - starting with Burt."
Puck's eyes widened perceptibly at the threat, and he nodded solemnly. "I got
it... Tess."
"I'll have a promise from you, young man."
"Yes ma'am," he said immediately, without hesitation.
"Next. This may not sound as serious as that first rule, Puck, but in a way, it
is. You are not to keep any questions to yourself. If you see something you
don't understand, if you see something that's new to you, if you see something
that you're curious about, you are to ask." She gave him a little smile.
"You're well mannered enough to do it politely."
"Yes, ma'am," he said again. "I bet I'll have plenty of questions."
"Finally," she said, "You are to keep this visit to yourself. This is not an
experience that confers any kind of bragging rights, and if I hear about it,
I'll come down to discipline you personally. Your partners are one thing - I'd
expect you to discuss this with them if you wish. Carl, and other mentors of
that ilk, that's fine as well - but do not divulge details of your visit to
anyone else. Do you understand?"
He paled at the mention of Dr. Howell, and nodded his silent assent.
"Oh. And a word of warning. James Robins is a heavy top. If he were to catch
you down in that kitchen without me? I guarantee he'll blister your backside
for you - there's a dearth of wooden spoons and spatulas - not to mention the
razor strop he keeps to sharpen the blades."
Puck's face was a picture of conflicted interest and fear, but he nodded again.
His eyes were wide open and drinking it all in as they began their tour.
Tess escorted him down the great hall and into the demonstration hall. She
stepped to the side with him, just inside the door, to let him look around.
There was a lot to see, the curving stage wrapped half around the room, and
there were various venues along it, each with a small throng of people
watching, appreciating, calling out encouragement, or mocking, or deriding as
appropriate.
Puck's eye was drawn by the sight of a slim blonde woman wearing a full leather
mask and wearing a collar, and not much else, being led down the hall by a man
in a denim vest and leather pants. She didn't look like it was causing her any
distress to be on display this way, and Puck found himself inexplicably moved
as the man's hand came down, gently, on top of her head as they walked. He
blinked away tears and tried to focus elsewhere.
The crack of a bullwhip caught his attention. At one end of the hall, several
semicircles of chairs ringed a man wielding a bullwhip. Puck watched,
incredulous, as the man dangled rings from the erect nipple of one topless
woman, then used the whip to strike the rings off her nipples from eighteen
feet away. The sound was astonishingly loud, but the woman was clearly
unharmed. "How the fuck...?" he murmured, shaking his head.
The next scene along the row, once he was able to drag his eyes away, was a
large frame, shaped like an X - and a woman was drooping, her wrists and ankles
bound, her head arching back as a burly man wielded a thick and heavy flogger,
and she was moaning and yelping something fierce. Puck shivered as the sound
made an impact, and he remembered the flogger that Dr. Howell had used on him.
He gazed up at the X-shaped frame.
"It's called a St. Andrew's cross - the name comes literally from the Saint
Andrew, who was said to have been martyred on a cross of that shape - crux
decussata. Does that look like an interesting activity to you?"
"Yeah," he blurted, eyes darting back and forth between Tess and the cross.
"I've never seen anything like that before."
Tess nodded. "It's a big piece of equipment, and it takes a lot of room.
There's a mirror behind it, so if she picks her head up, she can see the
reactions of the crowd."
"God." His eyes were as big as the fried eggs James had been making in the
kitchen. "That's f- uh, that's awesome."
His face was pensive as they walked through the hallways of the club, his eyes
keen and trained on every detail, but his mind clearly elsewhere.
"Dear boy," she chided. "I'm not talking for my health. What's going on in that
head of yours?"
She paused them in one of the many alcoves along the private hallway they were
in.
"Sorry," he sighed. "I know - this is really great, the club and all. It's
just... well, you know about all the stuff that went on at home, but you don't
know what happened after Finn found out." His voice dropped, nearly inaudible
over the noise of the club. "He... he hit me. He learned about the lie and he
kicked my ass, right there in the middle of Glee." He looked a little
surprised, and then said, "It's the first time I've said it out loud, like
that."
Tess looked at the young man, compassion in her grey eyes. "Through here,
Noah," came the soft request. They were very near the playrooms, and she opened
the door on an unoccupied room that was used for aftercare. There was a soft
lounging couch there, and she settled both of them on it, reaching into a
cupboard for a clean handkerchief and a bottle of water, setting them to her
side as she listened.
Puck's eyes flickered around the room, settling on a spot just in front of
Tess. "He didn't want to talk to me," he said, his voice low. "I don't think
he's ever going to want to see me again. I think I'm going to have to write him
off."
"Oh, sweetie," she said, hand reaching out to stroke the soft stubble on his
scalp. "He should not have hit you, Noah. That's unacceptable. Do you
understand?"
"I know," he said, "but I guess I figured it was just part of the way we were
together. But then, I don't know, afterwards, I just felt so fucking mad at
him. Do you think that was wrong of me?"
"No," Tess said firmly. "Relationships built on love and trust do not involve
the sort of actions Finn took. You're right to be angry. That's perfectly
normal - and healthy."
He took a deep breath and settled his shoulders, leaning back on the wall.
"Okay," he said. "I'm... well, I guess I'm glad to hear that. Nobody said that
to me, until this weekend. Adam said it, too."
"Adam? Go on, Noah."
Puck's body language changed entirely, and he leaned forward, his eyes lighting
up. "Adam - he's the guy I met in Santa Fe. He's... well, he's pretty amazing."
She watched him relax into his words, clearly feeling everything as strongly as
she'd expect a sensitive boy like him to feel things. "I told him about Finn. I
mean - he made me. He got me right away, what I needed." His face went red, and
he ducked his head to his chin. "He put me in the corner until I was ready to
talk to him."
Tess simply reached out and put an arm around the boy, pulling him close,
waiting for him to continue. There was obviously more to this, and she had all
the patience in the world for it.
"And then - god." He grinned, still pink. "He, uh, he spanked me. With a
paddle. First time for that. And he took me to synagogue, and I did the
Mourner's Kaddish for my Ma..." His breath came out in a long rush. "We had a
really amazing weekend."
"The Mourner's Kaddish - Noah - your mother?"
He looked startled, and met Tess' gaze with his own. It wasn't sad; instead,
she saw resignation, even acceptance. "Yeah. She died, last week. Thursday. I
don't know exactly what, they aren't sure - something in her brain, maybe a
stroke." His gaze diverted to the wall. "I took off a few days after that."
"Come here," she ordered firmly, patting her lap.
He froze, looking with dread at her velvet-clad legs, and with much hesitation
moved toward her, bending over her lap to present his behind for discipline.
"No, no, Noah. I don't mean that way - come here, sweetheart," she said,
helping him upright, and seating him firmly in her lap, arms wrapped tightly
around him.
"Oh," he said, relieved, letting his head rest on her shoulder. "Heh. My bad."
She laughed at that. "It happens. I'm sorry I wasn't clearer, honey." He
flinched a little at that, and her frown returned. "Noah?"
"No, I just..." He sighed, settling against her body, taking comfort in her
closeness and warmth. "Adam... he calls me that. I... don't think I was
expecting to hear it again so soon."
"Ah," she said with understanding. "That's fine, Noah. Were you comfortable
with Adam's discipline? Did he ask for your consent, first?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, with a grin. "It was totally what I wanted. I was kind of
impressed with him. But he said - it was the first time he'd done anything like
that, and had it really mean something. Before that, it was just, like, a game.
But not with me." He sounded a little smug.
"I appreciate your faith in this man, Noah." She hesitated. "I want to hear
more about him, if you please. And, I would very much like to continue hearing
about him, and your contact with him in the future. I feel obligated to point
out, Noah, that this is your first encounter with him. I'm glad it is such a
positive experience, but I worry about the potential for heartache,
sweetheart."
Puck nodded, slowly. "I got that," he said. "I wasn't really sure what to
expect when I went into it. I think I thought it was going to be, like, a one
night thing. But things changed, for both of us, and we knew it." He smiled, a
secret smile, recalling moments of intimacy he wouldn't bring up here. "It
was... amazing. He made sure to wait, until the next day, to tell me how he
really felt. But we're both pretty sure, now." His face was shining, now, with
love, and she didn't need any more words to know how he felt.
She could feel his body language, trusting and relaxed, and continued stroking
the soft hair as he relaxed, waiting to hear what else would come out. She
wished she could keep him for a couple of days, but it was unlikely. She'd have
to listen carefully, and act accordingly.
"That sounds lovely, Noah. Will you promise me to let me know how things are
going? No running off and hiding from me, young man, I'd like to expect regular
phone calls."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling. "I'm not sure what to expect, now. He's called
me once, but I know he's pretty busy between now and January. I don't really
think I'll hear much from him." He put a hand over his face, leaning against
her. "God. It was a lot, in one weekend. The rabbi said... well, he said I
should be thinking about my Ma, every day, and saying this prayer for her. But
all I can think about is Adam." He gazed at her. "Do you think that's wrong?"
"No," came the firm reply. "It's not wrong, Noah." She reached down and opened
the bottle of water, handing it to him. "Your well-being is the most important
thing. Your mother is a part of that, and now Adam is a part of that. Do you
think you could do both? Say the prayers for your mother, and spend a few
minutes of the day to think of her, and let those feelings go with that prayer?
Adam gave you a gift that touched you very deeply, Noah, and you're right to
think over how you feel about him, in detail and at length."
Puck meditated on that for a moment. "That makes sense," he said, relaxing
further into her lap. "I really do think saying that prayer helped, but I have
no fucking idea why. Isn't that weird?" He shook his head. "I guess that's
going to have to go in the 'unexplained weird shit' box for a while, huh?"
She raised an elegant eyebrow at the young man, and her hand patted his bottom
firmly, twice. "You'll mind your language, Noah."
Puck was startled, but nodded quickly. "Sorry. Old habits. But - my Ma. She
would have appreciated the prayers... but the rabbi said it was more about how
I was in the eyes of God. I don't even know if I believe in God. I just - I
want my Ma to be proud of me."
"Have the discipline to say the prayers, Noah, and perhaps you'll find out. And
knowing you, I cannot imagine that she would be anything but proud." Tess
pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.
His eyes glittered with tears, but he nodded again. "I think I can do that."
"Good. And I'm right here for you too, young man." She gave him a stern look,
though there was mirth behind it. "What other surprises have you for me, now?"
He shrugged. "I guess - I'm not sure, if Kurt's going to be okay with this
thing with Adam. I don't think I can give either one of them up."
Her eyes softened. "All you can do is be honest with him, Noah. If Kurt loves
you as much as I think he does, it likely won't be a problem."
"He did say he loved me," Puck said softly. "He wanted me to come home, to
him." He gazed at his lap. "It doesn't feel much like home. That's part of the
reason I left. I wanted to find that - that home. I thought I might, in Santa
Fe, but it wasn't there either." His eyes were calm and sad. "I don't think I
really have a home anymore."
Tess was silent for a long moment. "I understand, sweetheart," she said softly,
hesitating a little. "I didn't have anywhere when I was your age, either. And I
went straight into the army after college - a little younger than usual. I
moved around frequently, to different bases, stations over my career, Noah. In
the end, I found that home was where I felt safe and comfortable - or where
there was someone who loved me very much. It wasn't a tangible address - it was
in me."
He listened to her with grave attention. "There's a story my dad used to tell
me, about a missing piece, and a Big O, and how you can be... at home. In
yourself." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Tess gently batted his hand away,
and moved in with the clean handkerchief, shaking her head a little, though she
was smiling. He smiled in appreciation. "Do you think I'll ever feel like
that?"
"I do. Hearts that run deep like yours, my dear - they're rewarded with that
sense of security. Sometimes it takes some work, mind you. And sometimes it
takes a safe harbor - do you know what I mean by that?"
He nodded slowly. "Places... people. Like Finn, and Kurt. And... and Adam?"
"And here with me, if you need," she said, reaching out a gentle finger and
tapping him on the end of his pert nose. He twitched, ducking his head with a
laugh.
"That's awesome," he said, and yawned an enormous yawn, his jaw cracking. "Uh.
Sorry. I think I might be done a little early."
"I agree. Come with me, now, Noah. Unless you'd be more comfortable right here
- I can always have security take you to my guest room. You're not too big for
me here, but I think I'd wake you up if I threw you over my shoulder in a
fireman's carry."
Puck's grin was a wicked one. "I've done that a few times myself," he said,
stretching hugely. "I don't doubt that you could carry me, Lady Tess, but you
don't have to try that hard. I'd follow you anywhere."
She blinked back tears of her own. "Thank you. Let's get you in a comfortable
bed." Her voice was even, and controlled, and she patted the side of his thigh.
He padded docilely behind her as she led the way back out of the quiet room
into the back hallway. He could see the lights flashing, the swell of people
dancing as they went by, and out here the vibration of the music came up
through the floors with a pleasant buzz.
Tess nodded to security, who followed the two of them quietly, the guard
changing over at the entrance to the older part of the club where her quarters
were. The boy was practically asleep on his feet, scrubbing his eyes with his
fist - and no wonder, she thought fondly. She ushered him into the dim of her
sitting room, and straight into the guest room that was just across from her
own room. The boy's bag was set on the bench at the end of the bed, and she sat
him down firmly, unlacing the worn sneakers and slipping them off.
"Pajamas," she requested.
"Uh," he said, looking confused. "I don't think I own any of those. I'm okay in
my boxers and t-shirt."
She swallowed on the grin that wanted to break free, and reached for the button
of his jeans. "Off with these, then, Noah."
He struggled with his jeans, giving in to sleep almost before he was prone and
covered, but Tess helped him the rest of the way, tugging the legs off. He
sprawled face down on the bed, his head halfway on the pillow, his eyelids
already drooping closed. "Thanks," he murmured. "I'll... I can make you
breakfast tomorrow. I make great pancakes."
"Shhh," she hushed. "The only thing you need to think of is resting, right
now." Her voice was quiet and warm. "Sleep now, Noah." She waited a moment
until his breathing deepened, and stole the opportunity to gently peek under
the edge of his boxers, assessing the handiwork of the Top Noah was putting so
much trust in. The dark bruises were consistent with Puck's description of the
paddle, none of it particularly severe, aside from a reddened patch. She
sighed, and gently covered him over, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.
"G'night, baby," he muttered. Tess blinked and shook her head, quietly stepping
away from the bed, and snapping off the light. She'd get a little more out of
him in the morning - and perhaps have a better look at his backside, talk to
him about safe play with a Top - and how to be safe inside himself.
===============================================================================
I said hey I'll cover you honey cause the pain's gotta go somewhere

Yeah the pain's gotta go someplace

So come on down to my house

Don't you know that

Love's the only house big enough for all the pain in the world
- Martina McBride, "Love's the Only House"
***** Chapter 11 *****
You know, honestly, when you start talking so much about your relationship, it
opens the door too much. I've only been in one major long-term relationship
prior to this, and I'm really, really happy. It's done a lot for me, and it's
grounded me, and it has inspired me as a writer and as a performer. I just
think everybody wants that connection, and I'm really happy to have found it.
- Adam Lambert, The Advocate, October 2011
===============================================================================
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Puck's complement of nighttime visitors tonight included his daughter,
appearing in her four year old guise. She was eating an ice cream cone and
making a big mess of her hands, and dancing adorably to music on the radio.
Strangely enough, the dark-haired boy from the club was there, too, wiping her
hands off and smiling at her as she threw her arms around him. He gazed up at
Puck, his face much clearer in the dream than he would have expected, and said,
"She's going to need a bath tonight."
That's when he woke up, his heart hurting in ways he wasn't sure what to do
with. It took him a few minutes to get his bearings, as it always did when he
woke in a strange place, but eventually he remembered Tess and the club, and he
prowled out in his shorts to find out more about where he was.
Tess had left the guest room door open, and her own bedroom doors open as well.
She expected that she would hear him at some point. She wasn't at all surprised
to wake to the sound of his footsteps in the hallway, and rose easily, wrapping
her soft robe about herself and emerging from the bedroom to see exactly where
he thought he was going.
The soft light from one room drew him, and Puck pushed open the door to find a
kitchenette. He stepped in the room and padded barefoot over to the counter,
leaning in to see what was on the other side.
Tess smirked a little to herself, of course he'd head straight for a kitchen.
She didn't let the door swing shut behind him, as it was wont to do. And so
nicely laid out over the counter for -
She gently swatted his backside. "Noah."
He jumped about three feet into the air, coming down a hundred and eighty
degrees from where he'd begun, his back pressed up against the bar, trembling,
eyes wide as platters. "Holy sh- Lady Tess!" He put a hand to his chest. "You
scared the crap out of me."
"I imagine," came the dry reply. "And you're out of bed, why?"
He took a calming breath and glanced around himself. "I almost never sleep
through the night. Bad dreams, my dad... and good dreams, my daughter." He
grinned. "And other things."
She nodded understandingly, and filled the kettle, setting it on the stove and
turning the burner on. "What was it tonight?"
"Daughter... and a boy I met once, at another club. I've been dreaming about
him a lot." His voice went thoughtful as he picked up the milk and poured a
little into one of the cups. "He seemed like he needed... somebody to take care
of him. You know what I mean?"
"I do. Milk in the second cup too, please. Dreaming about him doesn't bother
you? It's quite normal, if you've only met him once, your subconscious is
trying to get to know him a little better, you might say, in the dreams. But
don't mistake the dreams for the truth, Noah."
Puck obliged, pouring the milk. "That makes sense. I don't think the dreams
about my daughter are the truth, either. But it's nice to see... the possible
her, who she could be. As for the boy... well, I don't think I'll ever see him
again, so it doesn't matter much." He half-shrugged, leaning back on the
counter and sighing.
Tess studied him for a moment. "It's different, Puck. If the dreams about your
daughter are good, then maybe those are ways of loving her that you might
remember in the future."
"I sure hope so," he said fervently. "I want to be the best Papa I can be."
She stepped close to him, and ran a fond hand over the softness of his mohawk,
limp with the late hour. "You will be, Noah. Here," she said, pouring the hot
water over the tea leaves. "This needs to steep for a little. Come here,
honey." She used the word deliberately.
Puck's eyes suddenly flew open, his hands splayed on the bar. "Oh, f- uh." He
turned panicked eyes to Tess. "I didn't call Adam last night. I promised I
would, every night."
Tess cupped a hand behind his head, and pulled him close. She gently kissed his
forehead. "Go and get your phone, Noah, and you come right back here before you
call, understand me?"
He trotted obediently down the hall and returned in half a minute with his
phone, and a shirt, which he pulled on over his head. "Okay."
Tess put a glass of water in his hand. "At least half of that, then go ahead
and place the call."
He swallowed the water quickly, then sank onto a stool as he dialed the number,
holding the phone tentatively by his face. She could tell by his expression
that he'd gotten through. "Hi," he said shyly. "I'm just calling to say..." His
eyes flickered to Tess, and he turned away slightly before lowering his voice.
"I love you."
Tess very firmly set the tea service in front of him a moment later, nodding at
him to pour.
Puck picked up the teapot in one hand while holding the phone with the other,
leaning in to add tea to both cups. "I'm glad Letterman went well," he said.
"Sorry I missed it. I'm visiting... a friend, in Iowa. Made good time today,
but I've still got a few more hours to go tomorrow. I should make it to Ohio by
afternoon." He laughed at something the other man said. "Yeah - I'm the Big O."
Tess blinked. Letterman - Adam - oh for mercy's sake, she thought. Puck
certainly didn't seem to do things halfway. She'd caught the show on her TIVO
as she'd settled down into bed for the night. Well. She hadn't heard anything
bad of the young musician.
"Uh." Puck glanced at Tess, a question in his eyes. "I'm at a club. Tessera."
His face cleared and went surprised as he listened. "You do? The owner - she's
my friend." He smiled at Tess as he said it. "Yeah. It's awesome."
Tess looked fondly at him, reaching out to tug the sweatshirt sleeve down over
his wrist, where it had ridden up as he poured tea. He gave her an appreciative
smile and touched her hand with his, letting her stroke the skin on his palm.
"Sure." He held out the phone to her. "He'd love to say hello."
She kissed his forehead again, and accepted the phone. "This is Tess. I'm
pleased to be introduced," she said silkily, letting just a little doubt creep
into her tone. "Noah speaks quite highly of you, young man."
"Forgive me for being a little flustered," he said, excitement plain in his
musical voice. "You're kind of a celebrity in my circles. I didn't expect to
run into you this way, but I've always wanted to visit your club."
"The sensation is mutual, Adam," she said. "Noah neglected to mention a surname
when we discussed things earlier, didn't you, Noah." She gave the teenager a
very direct look.
Puck ducked his head, looking both guilty and pleased with himself. "I think it
didn't even cross my mind. He's just Adam."
"I of course appreciate the care you've taken with such a... young... sub,"
Tess continued, pressing a little, laying a restraining hand on Noah's arm.
"Mmmm. Yes." Adam's tone was regretful now. "I was reluctant, myself, when I
learned his age. We talked a long time about it before doing anything at all.
But, in the end, our mutual feelings guided the way." She could hear the love
in his voice. "Noah... is exceptional, in every way. And he taught me a lot, in
that one day, about - well, about everything, but especially about what
it really meant to be a Top."
Tess considered the young musician's words for a long minute. "Yes, Noah
certainly is. I've taken quite an interest in this young man," she said,
gathering Puck to her in a gentle hug. She deliberated briefly, noting that
Adam gave her the time she needed to speak. "You'd be quite welcome here, Adam,
either to perform, if that is your preference, or, to... play. I do
occasionally give a tour of the club facilities on request."
"That would be fantastic," he said enthusiastically. "It'd have to be a time
when I'm not working; none of the rest of my band or crew, er, lean quite the
way I do. But I could very happily fly out to do a show at Tessera another
time. Maybe Noah and I could drive out from Ohio."
"Either is fine, Adam. I'm occasionally in Noah's hometown to visit friends,"
she told him. She felt comforted by the last suggestion - that he meant to see
Noah at home - know his family...
"You're so kind. I'm glad to hear Noah's in good hands before he heads home to
his family. Could I say good night to him before I head off, here?"
"Of course, Adam. It's been nice to speak with you. I would," she suggested,
"like to make sure this young man is in bed and asleep before too much longer."
"I would, too," he said, the edge in his voice hinting at what he thought about
Puck being awake so late. "Actually, he could probably use a more... severe
reminder about his promise. He needs to get more sleep. And he said he would
call me before he went to bed." He sounded thoughtful. "You think you could
help me out with that?"
"Well. We did have a long chat, Adam, and he was nodding off when I hustled him
into bed. And I had something like that in mind myself, I should be glad to
stand as a proxy if that's what you wish."
"That's exactly what I was thinking. I'm glad you're there, and it sounds like
he trusts you. It's just what he needs." Adam sounded a little relieved.
"Thanks, again."
She spoke reassuringly to the musician for a moment, then handed the phone back
to Puck, and he accepted it with anticipation. "Hey," he said. Then his face
changed to surprise, and then to embarrassed guilt. "Uh... I just got up, and
thought I'd take a look around... No! I didn't... I mean, I wouldn't... " He
closed his eyes, running a hand over his head. "No, Adam. Sorry. I... I won't."
Tess pressed in close to the boy, a hand resting firmly in the small of his
back, letting the suggestion ride. She raised an eyebrow and tapped the teacup,
which stood mostly full.
He nodded understanding. Then, in reaction to something Adam said, his gaze
shot back to Tess', and he looked - well, terrified didn't begin to cover it.
"Uh," he said.
Really, it was one of her favorite expressions to see on a sub, especially one
who didn't always quite think things through frequently.
He swallowed audibly, and nodded, not taking his eyes away from hers. Finally,
he sighed, his shoulders drooping, and he hung his head. "Yes, Adam," he said,
and disconnected the call. He took the cup of tea and sipped it without
enthusiasm, glancing up at Tess from time to time.
"Come with me young man - no, the china will wait until morning," she said once
he'd finished. She wrapped a firm hand around his upper arm, and marched him
straight back to the bedroom. "Now, you were quite sleepy earlier, so you
didn't get the lecture - here it is now. If you're out of bed, you're coming
straight to me. You do not go exploring on your own. And, young man," she said,
looking sternly at him as she seated herself on the side of the bed, "You keep
your promises. I'm going to give you a spanking, Noah. You know what to do."
"I - yes ma'am." He took his cue from her expectant gaze on her lap and crawled
onto the bed, folding himself over her velvet-clad legs with reluctant
obedience.
"Good boy," she praised. "Lift up," came the next order. "I know you've been
paddled, I will not spank you without being able to see what I'm doing."
He did, raising up on his hands and knees in order to give her access to his
shorts, which she quickly stripped off, leaving his bottom bare.
Tess assessed the bruised surface, and nodded to herself, patting the flinching
surface briefly before she brought down the flurry of rapid and sharp swats,
covering Noah's backside thoroughly. He squirmed and complained loudly for a
few brief moments before dissolving into clearly much-needed tears.
She let him hang over her lap for a few moments, letting the sobs dwindle, and
smoothed a hand over his soft hair before replacing his shorts. She reached to
the covers, drawing them back. "Now, young man, BED."
He didn't say one more word; he just clambered in under the sheet and let his
head connect with the pillow, sighing quietly. His eyes were closed within five
seconds, and his breathing starting to even out within the next five.
Tess pulled the light blanket up over him. "Sleep well, Noah. If you're awake
in the morning, you come and fetch me, my door is open." She let her hand
linger on his shoulder.
"Yes, Lady Tess," he said groggily.
Tess leaned in, pressing a final, firm kiss to the boy's forehead, waiting just
a few moments until he was asleep, then headed back to her own warm bed.
===============================================================================
The dream was clearly inspired by the tour of the club the night before, but
this time Puck was the one hanging on the St. Andrews cross. He felt the strain
in his neck as the flogger hit his back again and again, not with overwhelming
force, but lazily, rhythmically, with easy strokes. He could see in the mirror
that it was Adam wielding the tool, his wrist rotating as he smiled at Puck
over his shoulder.
"Had enough?" he said, his musical voice as clear and real as though Adam had
actually been there.
Never, he thought, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the rough painted
wood. When he opened them again, it was Finn in the mirror, and his face was as
stern as Puck had ever seen it. Behind him, Kurt watched, impassive, withdrawn,
and entirely alone.
"Don't think I won't give it to you," he said, his voice almost a growl, and
Puck rolled his head over, his body twisting on the cross, feeling the strain
of the suspension from his wrists. Yes, he thought desperately, yes, please,
that's what I need -
When he woke, his cheeks were dry, but he felt the anguish of his dream echoing
inside him, the memory fresh for a few minutes before it retreated to the back
of his mind. It was already mid-morning. He'd apparently slept much longer than
he usually did, no doubt in part due to his 3 am wake-up call. By the time he
was dressed and packed, he felt largely normal again.
He found Lady Tess seated on a comfortable leather chair with wide armrests,
her book held in one hand, glasses perched on her nose. As he entered, she
peered at him, smiling, and took the glasses off. "Good morning, Noah."
"Hey," he said, smiling. "I can't believe I slept this long. I'm usually up a
little after dawn. Did you already eat? I could make us some omelettes."
"I'm glad you rested. And you're not lifting a finger, darling."
They had a quick breakfast brought up from the kitchen, after which Lady Tess
folded her napkin neatly on top of her plate.
"The club is closed on Mondays," she said quietly. "I thought perhaps you might
like to see the other floors?"
The dream came back to him in a shock of memory, and he reeled a little before
answering, "Yeah, absolutely. That'd be great."
"The same rules apply," she said drily, "as last night. Even when we're closed,
security is monitoring hallways on video, and Alec Williams is, like James, a
heavy Top, so you'd find yourself on the receiving end of a cane, and I don't
imagine it would be anything less than traumatic. Alec is the head of security
here, Noah."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, and took her offered hand, glad for her guidance.
She drew him gently along, down to the lower level of the club, pointing out
the small conference rooms at either end, and the private rooms where overnight
guests stayed, though not Sunday or Monday nights.
"You've seen the first floor - I imagine you might like dancing, the next time
you're here, we've always got some band or the other in. The third floor is
just like the basement - we can walk through it if you like, though I think
you'll be more interested in the second floor. On Thursday, Friday, and
Saturday nights these rooms on the ground floor and the third floor are often
full up. You'd want to let me know if you're coming, so I might reserve some
space for you."
He blinked, realizing that Tessera was less than a half-day's drive from Lima.
He might actually be able to come back again before too long. "Maybe - maybe I
could," he said. Maybe somebody could come back with me.
"Sweetheart, you are always welcome here. Until you're a little older, it will
have to be as my personal guest, in my quarters or in the guest quarters in the
private wing, but there will always, always be space for you here, Noah."
The thought was incredibly comforting. This amazing building was one thing, and
Puck was eager to explore every nook and cranny - but the woman who led him on
her arm was even more astounding, and felt surprisingly familiar after knowing
her for such a short time. Maybe not so surprising, he thought, watching her
attentively. She's as much a part of me now as Adam is.
"Come along, now," she smiled, sensing that he was thinking, and feeling.
"Third floor? or Second floor? or both?"
"Both, please," he said.
"Both it is. Stairwells in both wings are in the same places, sweetheart. And
don't you dare suggest racing me over four flights of stairs." Her eyes
sparkled, teasing him just a little.
He shook his head, grinning back. "Oh - trust me, I'm not
going anywhere without you. This place is awesome, but I can already tell
there's stuff I'm not ready to see."
"That's my good boy. Now, the ground floor and the third floor, they're more
private, but since were're closed today, you're fine. If you've got reason to
be on either floor- in the conference rooms, just be respectful. It's the
second floor that you are absolutely NOT to set foot upon without adult
accompaniment. Kurt doesn't count yet, but Adam might - if he's willing to have
a wee conversation with me first."
"Got it," he said, peering up the stairwell as they climbed. "And Adam is
definitely an adult." It made him squirm and his breath come a little faster to
imagine being in this establishment with Adam. There were too many
possibilities for his brain to entertain at once.
They cruised down the hallway of the third floor, which looked exactly like the
ground - basement - floor had. "This is a private club," she reminded closely.
"There will be no one on the second floor who has not had a personal interview
with me. Neither sub nor dom, top nor brat, are allowed to participate in the
activities on this floor unless they have been thoroughly vetted. Do you
understand?" She arched an eyebrow at him.
"Yes, ma'am," he said. There was enough of the club that he'd already seen that
he knew the second floor rooms must be way cooler than anything he could
imagine - but he could wait to see them. "Honestly, Adam and I barely made it
out of his hotel room this weekend. I don't think we're gonna need anything
more than a little quiet space when we're together, for now."
"Quiet space we have plenty of. Ready? I expect questions out of you on this
floor," she suggested, opening the stairwell door to the second floor. "Now
then. We're going to skip around a little, Noah. If you're feeling overwhelmed,
I expect to know about it, and the rest can wait, all right? I think this first
room will be a little familiar." She opened the door on a room that had several
hardbacked chairs, and benches, and... the walls were... covered, with photos
of implements, larger than life, and he could only imagine what was in the
cupboards spaced at regular intervals along the wall.
"Perhaps as you're still in school, this room might not interest you as much,
but it's set up as an old fashioned schoolroom," she said, letting him look
around. "Note the platforms in the corners, the ferule on the desk, the canes
hanging on the walls?"
"I'm glad I didn't go to school back then," he said with feeling. "Dude. It's
bad enough now, without all this corporal punishment stuff." He paused,
thinking. "Though I guess it would probably help me focus better..."
Puck gulped a little as he peeked into the next room and saw a doctor's office.
He could definitely see Dr. Howell in this one, complete with scrubs and mask
and latex gloves... okay, this is not helping. He put a firm collar-hold on his
imagination and went on.
He was a little puzzled by the room with the large flagstone fireplace.
Surgical trays of sterlized equipment were laid out, enclosed in plastic
autoclave bags, beside two comfortable-looking leather lounge chairs with
reclining backs. "What's this one for?"
"It's a little more intense, Noah. Come here," she suggested, and opened a
drawer next to the lounge chair. It was filled with what looked like...
needles... of various shapes and sizes, and he glanced at her curiously.
"Piercing," she explained. "The needles are used to pierce the skin, in various
patterns, or intensities - the wider gauge needles, more intense, of course."
Puck's heartbeat stuttered and picked back up, double time, as a vivid image of
the dark-haired boy from the club appeared in his mind - shirtless, back
arched, as Puck slowly inserted - he gasped. "Wow." He shook his head to clear
it. "I'm almost afraid to ask about the fireplace."
"Branding," she said succinctly. "Not done often, and always with myself
present."
"... Oh," he said, with a faint tremor. "Okay. I think I'll pass on that one."
She smiled gently at him. "Understandable. Not many people carry brands. Noah,
would you perhaps like to try anything - in any of the rooms we've seen?
There's a number of other rooms, but the only one we haven't seen thus far that
I would be willing to offer would be the... military room. I'd be willing to
demonstrate any of that for you, if you're curious."
Puck's mind wound through all the images it had absorbed in the past twenty-
four hours like an old-fashioned filmstrip, and by the end, he was almost dizzy
with the possibilities. "I - there's a lot I'd like to try," he said. "I won't
lie, though, and say I'm not a little intimidated by these rooms. I mean,
jeez." He shuffled nervously along the wall. "I'm kind of surprised that
there's a lot of stuff I don't know about yet. And I figured I was pretty
knowledgeable."
She pulled him close, an arm around his waist, and kissed his temple gently.
"It is all entirely your choice, Noah. In these rooms, I am in charge - but you
are the person who defines what is or is not permissible for your own self."
"I guess that makes sense." He let himself relax against her shoulder for just
a moment. "It's like this whole week away has been kind of... a wake-up, I
guess. I've learned so much, about myself, about who I am and what I need, and
I'm going back with all this new stuff. I have to make it fit into my old
life." He sighed. "I hope it's not too much for my friends and family. I'm not
that different. Am I?"
She shook her head fondly. "That's true not just in these rooms, my boy. It's
true outside of these walls, and in every aspect of your life, as well. People
grow, Noah. It's not always slow and comfortable. And in this, at least, I am
here for you, if you need to talk, or to ask questions. You're going back with
love and understanding in your heart. I don't think that the people who love
you will begrudge you a little growing and changing - but I want you to realize
that everyone recognizes things in their own time. Some of them might
understand right away, and others might understand further down the road. The
important thing is you - that you're comfortable with where you are, inside of
your own skin, within your own home."
Her grey eyes were warm, and her arm was firm and steady around him, and when
he quieted his breath for a moment, he imagined he could hear her heartbeat,
slow and strong.
===============================================================================
"The tank is full, my tires are inflated, and I've got a sandwich that doesn't
suck." He grinned at her from the cab of his truck. "And a letter of
introduction from James to the chef of Charlie Trotter's. I'm totally set. This
was awesome, Tess. Thank you - for everything."
"Now, you're going to call me, Noah. I expect to hear about all the little
things you've told me about, while you were here, please. I'm certain you won't
leave me to worry about you, hmm?"
"No way," he said. "I already said I'd call Adam every night. I'll be sure to
give you a call in a few days and let you know how things are." He gazed toward
the sun, which was already midway toward noon. "It's been a hell of a week.
When I left Lima, I didn't think I could stay there any longer, but... I think
I'm ready to face what's waiting for me there, now."
"That's my good boy," she said, her voice warm, and then she tiptoed up to kiss
his cheek through the window, being careful not to brush the velvet of her
dress against the door. "Now you'll be careful, yes, and at least try to
behave?"
He bit his lip. "You know, I always try."
"Then try and tip the odds towards success, if you please. All my love is with
you, dear heart."
He clasped her hand one more time through the open window before she let him
go. He turned the key in the ignition, then stuck his head out with an impish
grin. "I'll send you dessert for Christmas. You won't believe how fucking
awesome a fruitcake can be."
Tess shook her head, and popped the door of the truck open, released his seat
belt, and pulled him out, no break in the smooth, almost practiced motion. He
made a feeble protest as she freed the trigger snap of her quirt, doubled him
forward, and brought the leather down three times, quick and sharp.
"Mind your language," she said. "Now get on with you, Noah. It's not getting
any earlier, and you'll be on the road after dark as it is, boy."
He looked a little shaken, but much calmer. "Yes, ma'am."
She pressed another kiss in, this time on his forehead, thinking a blessing for
the boy as she did so. She heard the transmission shift into gear, and stepped
back, watching older pickup pull cleanly out of the parking lot. As the shimmer
of the tail lights faded, she let the sigh go finally. The sun was bright
overhead, a clear day, and she at least wouldn't have to worry about the boy
travelling through foul weather. The long driveway glimmered in the heat of the
noon sun, despite the chill of the air that had her shivering slightly.
Stephen was waiting for her at the door, as she padded quietly towards the
building, looking at the deep red brickwork and ornamentation with as much
pleasure as she had the first time she saw the then decrepit building. He held
out a warm woolen wrap, settling it around her shoulders and she smiled at her
majordomo.
"Another boy winging off into dangers untold and hardships unnumbered?"
Tess glanced at him. "Something like that. He'll call, and with a little grace,
he'll dance on through."
===============================================================================
She needs wide open spaces
 Room to make her big mistakes
 She needs new faces
 She knows the high stakes
 She traveled this road as a child
 Wide eyed and grinning, she never tired
 But now she won't be coming back with the rest
 If these are life's lessons, she'll take this test
- Dixie Chicks, "Wide Open Spaces"
***** Chapter 12 *****
I think we put all these expectations on relationships and create this idea of,
oh, this is how it's supposed to be, because this is what all these other
relationships that I see, that's how they are. I think it's really hard but
really necessary to be like, but what are my needs? And what are your needs?
And that's our relationship. And that's the hardest thing, because no one tells
you how to do that.
- Adam Lambert, OUT Magazine, November 2009
===============================================================================
CHAPTER TWELVE
Puck took I-80 through Chicago on his way back from Iowa, not because it was
all that much shorter than going through Indianapolis, but because he wasn't
going to miss having dinner at Charlie Trotter's. James had given him a note to
pass to the head chef, and he ended up with a full tour of the kitchen, along
with samples of dozens of dishes. Once they realized he knew what he was
talking about, the sous chefs stopped trying to patronize the teenager and
instead engaged him in a fascinating conversation about which chef school was
the best, working in the top restaurants in various cities, and the best routes
for him to consider when he was done with school. "Don't even think about
dropping out of high school to cook," they warned. "You've got to finish that
first. Then look us up." Puck promised them he would.
He'd made the turnoff onto highway 30, passing through Fort Wayne, about an
hour and a half away from Lima, when he started to feel anxious. The Puck who'd
left Lima over a week before was not the same as the Puck who was returning. It
was almost as though he was having a conversation with himself. New Puck, don't
forget to call Adam. Old Puck, make an appointment to talk to Miss Pillsbury
about your missed schoolwork. The two had things in common, but there were
plenty of things for Old Puck to learn from New Puck.
This concept about being his own Big O, for example. He'd always thought it
meant he had to do things alone, to become independent. But New Puck saw it
differently now. I can get some help breaking away those rough edges, he
thought. My family, they can help me turn over and get moving - and then we can
roll together. Being my own person doesn't have to mean being alone. It was the
most freeing thought.
The closer he got to Lima, though, the more he had to consider the very
practical question about where he was going to stay. Finn's place was clearly
not an option. His Ma's house had quickly passed into the possession of the
bank that owned the mortgage, and he figured he'd be lucky to ever see any
money from that considering how far behind she'd been on payments. He could
stay at Meemee's postage-stamp apartment for a few days, but he knew Meemee
well enough to know that wouldn't be a long-term solution for either of them.
That left Kurt's - but the thought of confronting everyone at once, Burt and
Kurt and Carole and Sarah and everybody, was almost more than even New Puck
could handle. He wondered if he could get away with sleeping on the mattress in
their attic room at school for a few weeks.
Passing through Delphos, turning off the highway onto route 309 toward Elida,
gave him the strangest jolt of melancholy. He pulled off to get gas, and, even
though it was only early evening, he called Adam.
"Noah?" His voice was surprised, distracted. Puck could hear smatterings of
noise and music in the background. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," he said, suddenly hesitant. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bother -"
"Don't be," Adam said, moving into a quieter room, and upon the dampening of
noise his voice grew quiet and personal. Puck could hear his smile, and he
glanced for the hundred-and-first time at the picture on the CD cover. He'd
have to print out a better one to stick in his truck.
"I'm almost back to Lima," he said to the picture, and felt a strange shock as
Adam's voice came through the phone while he was looking at his face. It was
almost too intimate.
"Your long journey's nearly at an end." He could have been whispering into
Puck's ear. Puck shivered and closed his eyes, imagining Adam's hair brushing
his cheek. "Full circle, back to the midwest. Did I tell you I was born in
Indiana?"
"No." Puck opened his eyes again and gazed across the flat, featureless
landscape of western Ohio, the strips of highway dividing the landscape into
bland and blander. It was representative of all the things he hated about
living in Lima - but he was oddly glad to be here. It was comforting.
"I know it seems like I'm so used to this traveling lifestyle, but it's still
pretty new to me. We moved to California when I was a little kid, and I've been
there since. Even so, I guess I'm still hopelessly midwestern."
Puck snorted. "Whatever, man. Glamorous gay rock star? Nothing midwestern about
that."
Adam chuckled. "You know, that's still a little hard to believe. Rock star. Me.
Two years ago I was still trying out for every part I could find, just to keep
my equity current, living pretty much from paycheck to paycheck, and trying
desperately to find someone to produce my CD. Now look at me. Idol changed me."
"I don't believe that," Puck said, stretching his legs across the passenger
side seat. He leaned his head back on the window. "You're the same. It's just
your circumstance. Like, the way the world sees you is different. You've always
been a rock star, inside."
"God, Noah." Adam's voice dropped suddenly, husky with emotion. "Where did you
come from?"
Puck was shocked into silence by the question.
Adam sighed. "I don't think I've really made you understand what this weekend
has meant for me. For a long time now, I've been... well, lonely. Me and Drake
- we tried to make it work, but he didn't get some things about me that I guess
I didn't even know I needed. Until you."
Puck had to swallow twice before he could get around the lump in his throat.
"Me?" he finally got out.
"You. You're extraordinary. The kind of extraordinary that doesn't need anybody
else to make them that way. I think you're so sure you need everybody that
you've forgotten what an amazing person you are, all by yourself."
"You make me feel like that," Puck said. "When I was with Finn, it
was... necessary, like we couldn't be any other way. With Kurt, there's this
give and take, like we balance each other, and it's so hot... but with you - "
He paused to control his voice, his face, and to take a deep breath. "You make
me feel like I can be so much more than I am."
"You're a rock star, too, Noah," said Adam, with calm surety. "Inside. You can
take that and become anybody you want to be. I know you have dreams of your own
- but there are so many more things, things you haven't even dreamt yet." He
laughed quietly. "It seems like I never run out of new things to discover, and
I'm thirteen years older than you are."
"Thirteen years." Puck shook his head. "We played this game, me and Finn and
Kurt and Sarah - my sister. We imagined our lives in one year, and three years,
and ten. That was less than a month ago. Well, already my life's completely
different than I imagined, even a year away." He felt his lips turn up in a
smile. "There was no way - no fucking way - I could have imagined you."
"You're not the only one," Adam said. He sighed. "I'm sorry, honey, but I've
got to get going. We'll be in New York for a few more days, and then I'm
heading home."
Home. The concept was even more confusing than it had been a week ago, when
he'd gone looking for home in Santa Fe. "D'you think home could be a feeling,
instead of a place?" he asked.
"Definitely," Adam said. "How does it feel to you, to be home?"
Puck thought about it. Finn had felt like home, to him. What had he felt?
"Familiar," he said. "I could be at home in a new place, if it felt like I
belonged."
"Well, then, all you have to do is find that place inside yourself, and you'll
be at home, wherever you are. Maybe if you chip off some of those corners, you
can start rolling on your own."
"Not on my own," Puck said, and smiled. "Never on my own."
Adam's own smile was brilliant, even over the phone. "No, honey. Never on your
own. Call me later to say goodnight."
"Yes, Adam," he said.
===============================================================================
The drive was easier, after that, just the six or so miles from Elida into
town. Puck took a few minutes to drive through downtown, passing Dr. Howell's
storefront just to peek through the door - it was dark; maybe they were closed
for the holiday? - and then he headed east on McKibben, then north on Jackson,
the familiar route leading him toward Hummel Tires and Lube.
He parked, but hesitated outside the front door. Burt was right there, standing
behind the oil-stained counter with the blotter from 2007, helping a customer.
He looked exactly the same as he had a week ago: same old ball cap, same smile,
same eyes. Puck wondered if he looked the same, if maybe the vast, life-
changing things that had happened to him in the last few days might just not be
the kind of things anybody could see. Maybe Burt had things like that, too.
And then, whether by chance or because of some reason Puck would never know,
Burt looked right up through the glass and saw him standing there in the
doorway. His smile faltered and disappeared, and he took a stunned step back.
He watched the customer Burt was helping ask him if he was okay, and he saw
Burt ask him to wait a minute. Puck steeled himself and stepped through the
door.
Burt looked like he had a lot of things to say, but none of them were
forthcoming as he came around to the front of of the counter, his eyes
arresting, forbidding Puck to look away.
He was close now, standing right in front of him. He put his hands on Puck's
shoulders, looking him over, as though he was inspecting him for scars. He
wanted to tell Burt, I'm new, there's this part of me you haven't met before,
and he's amazing. But he could only gaze back at him and tell Burt with his
eyes how happy he was to be there.
Burt's own eyes softened, becoming shiny. His fingers tightened on Puck's
sleeves, and he gave him a quick, decisive nod. Then, faster than Puck could
object - not that he would - Burt had him, tight in his strong arms, holding
him close enough that Puck could hear his pulse hammering in his neck.
"Burt," Puck said, and that was all he could say.
Burt took a breath, then paused before whispering, "Thanks for coming home."
===============================================================================
I just want to be living as I'm dying
 Just like everybody here
 Just want to know my little flicker of time is worthwhile
 And I don't know where I'm driving to
 But I know I'm getting old
 And there's a blessing in every moment, every mile
Thin white terry, bars of soap and a couple little plastic cups
 Old Gideon's Bible's in the nightstand drawer saying, "Go on, open up"
 Well, I'll kneel down on the carpet here
 Though I never was sure of God
 But tonight I'll give Him the benefit of the doubt
I switch off the lights and imagine that waitress outlined in the bed
 Her hair falling all around me
 I smile and shake my head
 Well, we all write our own endings
 And we all have our own scars
 But tonight I think I see what it's all about
Because I've come home
 I've come home
- Vienna Teng
THE END
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