Authors: auchic and fuzzy_paint
Rated: R for the naughty words and also lots of peeing.
Word Count: ~4000
Disclaimer: I don’t own Glee. Neither do I.
Spoilers: Through the first season.
Summary: It’s literally the title. No, seriously.
A/N: For Becca. Because we love her and her obsession with Puck peeing. LOL BET YOU DIDN’T THINK WE’D ACTUALLY DO THIS. Happy Birthday, B-Star!
Everyone says he got fired for peeing in the frialator .
It’s totally not true. He got fired for sneaking out burgers in his underpants; the frialator was just because he’d been downing those fountain pops like crazy, and had to go, right then and right there.
Plus. It totally pisses off Mr. Keller, who rounds the corner just as Puck’s finishing up, so that’s cool.
Security- Big Boy Roy, the one and only- escorts him out of the front doors, nearly dumping him on his ass.
“No more peeing in the frialator , Puck,” he says, but whatever. It’s not like Puck even wanted this job. He only took it ‘cause the pool business was shit in the winter and the cashier chick had a totally awesome rack.
He totally planned on hitting that until he found out cashier chick was totally cashier dude and that’s just not going to fly with El Puckerone.
“And we’ll need the shirt,” Big Boy Roy says, holding out his hand.
Roy just raises an eyebrow. It’s not like he’s going to intimidate the Puckzilla, but Roy doesn’t even have hot chicks or willing cougars to look forward to. A man that desperate is capable of anything.
Puck yanks it off over his head, balls it up in his hands. Working here sucked anyway; the only good thing was the free food - which, go figure, was totally not free, but that makes it even better. He smirks and throws the shirt up on the roof.
Roy frowns. “That’s going to come out of your wages.”
“Whatever. The pay is for shit anyway.”
Puck turns, and there’s Kurt Hummel with his dad, staring at him. If he didn’t have that grossed out look on his face, Puck would totally think Kurt was checking him out.
Which he should, even if it’s totally gay. Have you seen his guns? They’re fully loaded and everything.
After a moment of gaping, Kurt turns to his dad. “You are never eating here again.”
Parties are pretty much the awesomest thing ever, especially when there’s free booze.
So what if they have to mix it all together until it tastes so bad that everyone’s gagging when they try to get - and keep - it down? It’s alcohol. Only idiots and Gentiles turn down free booze and Puck is definitely neither of those.
Puck drinks his entire cup in one go because he’s a stud, even if he totally feels like someone’s punched him in the nuts, but in the throat instead. Or at the same time. A double whammy.
It always gets better the more he drinks, so Puck takes another cup, and then Karofsky’s calling him over because there’s a fucking keg and that is just awesome.
After a keg stand or two, his stomach is trying to climb out of his throat, but people are yelling chug, chug, chug and Puck’s never been able to deny that call.
He’s never been able to deny the call of nature either and shit, mixed alcohol goes through him fucking fast. He manages to slip away without looking like he’s wimping out on the epic keg stand.
Someone’s hurling in the bathroom like a total wuss. Puck never pukes in public. He’s got a steel stomach, like it’s a robot part or something, like he’s the Puckinator.
A slow smile spreads over his face. Yeah, he’s that awesome.
He bangs on the door again and he totally does not need to do the potty dance, but he kind of does because he seriously needs to go.
He glances over his shoulder, turning towards the hallway, wondering if there’s another bathroom around here. Tina had said that no one is allowed upstairs, pointedly glaring at Puck the whole time, but since when does Puck listen to the rules?
Never, that’s when. Puck’s too cool for rules.
He stumbles down the hallway, nearly tripping over the rug and falling into one of those giant plant trees Tina’s mother has.
He steadies himself, and then he looks down.
Puck rolls his head back as he pops open his fly, thanks the Good Lord for going commando, and just lets it all out.
Aw, sweet release.
He may have made a sex noise. And then there’s another noise behind him that so not a sex noise. More like someone trying to keep down a shriek of disgust.
He expects it to be Tina when he turns his head, but instead it’s Kurt. Totally Kurt, with his mouth open in horror and his cheeks all flushed and his eyes aimed down.
“Yo Hummel, I’m up here,” Puck snaps his fingers in front of Kurt’s face.
Kurt’s mouth works, and he blinks slowly. “Are you- Are you urinating in Tina’s mother’s prized Ficus plant?”
Puck waggles his eyebrows, feeling the buzz settling in his gut. He zips up and wipes his hands on his jeans. “Why not? A little of the Puckerman magic and that plant’s gonna be awesome.”
Kurt speechless is pretty awesome. Looks kind of like Finn does when Puck tells him shit like how fan-fucking-tastic it feels when you press your fingers behind your balls when you’re jerking off.
“Oh my god, I can’t be seeing this,” Kurt hisses, walking away in what his Nana would call a fit of pique (Puck calls it being a prancy bitch). He figures Kurt shouldn’t be so high and fucking mighty for someone who was definitely checking another dude’s dick out, but whatever.
There’s wild laughter coming from the kitchen and shit, here he is thinking about Hummel. He definitely needs more beer.
He totally wouldn’t have done it (except, yeah, maybe he would), but Mike Chang dares him to, and he’s learned never to turn down a Mike Chang dare.
Doing that can get ugly.
It’s that quiet section of the mall, where there’s like old people stores and that health food place Finn stole sex potion one time (another Mike Chang dare, ‘cept the sex potion stuff didn’t do shit). So it’s pretty quiet and all, but he’s been kicked out of enough places now, and the mall was like the last place in Lima Puck could legit hang out in.
“You’re so not gonna do it,” Chang says.
“Fuck you, Chang, you motherfucker, I’d like to see you step your ass up.”
“Oh, I totally did, Puckerman.” Chang smirks.
Matt holds up his phone. “Got pictures and everything.”
Finn leans over. “Holy shit. That is so awesome. And gross.”
Fuck them all anyways.
He’s so not shy about whipping it out, but he can see Mrs. Sloane from Nana’s temple sitting on a bench like right there and even though she’s not looking, she’ll know. And then Nana will know and she’ll whup his ass red.
He hears the click of a phone camera going off. “Ha!” Chang waves his phone around. “Photographic evidence that Puck is a pussy.”
Son of a fucking fuck. “I’ll show you pussy, bitch.” And before he even starts to think about Nana and security guards and all that, he has his dick out and aimed it at the fountain in front of Penney’s.
He can hear the dudes laughing behind him, cell cams going off like crazy but he’s trying hard not to think about it. He’s also keeping his eyes away from Mrs. Sloane. Better to just stare at the store in front of him, the clothing store that his mom would probably shop at if she could afford better than Kmart, the store that holy fucking fuck Kurt is walking out of and looking Puck’s way.
They just kinda stare at each other for a moment while Puck finishes, then he shakes it off and tucks himself back in, as if this was like, normal.
Kurt is red like crazy, but he just rolls his eyes and says, “At least this time it’s not for public consumption,” before walking away.
Well, shit. If this kept up, Puck’s totally going to get a fetish, or something.
He is not nervous.
Okay, he’s nervous. But shit, Regionals is more intense than Berry made it out to be and Berry made it sound like a fucking nightmare. She’s off in the corner doing damn breathing exercises with a paper bag. ‘Tana and Britt have booked it, probably to go have chick sex in the bathroom. Finn, Chang, Rutherford, and Artie are watching that video of Rutherford’s latest Chang dare (Miss Pillsbury would shit herself dead if she ever found out) and the rest of the girls are crowded around Quinn and making sure she’s properly hydrated.
And Kurt’s nowhere to be seen. Not that Puck notices where Kurt is or anything.
He’s gotta pee, but Berry started breathing funny when Santana and Britt ran off, and he figures she’d probably come after him with a knife if he took off, too. Maybe use his own pocket knife against him. But shit, nerves always makes him need to piss and he’s not gonna go out on stage with a full bladder.
Someone brushes by him and fucking damn it, it’s that prick St. James, betraying motherfucker. He turns around and smirks at Puck, and Puck just wants to plant his fist into Jesse’s pretty pretty face. Wait, not pretty. Ugly.
There’s a table set up and everyone’s put their water and Gatorade and shit on it, and that’s where St. James is headed. But some Fucker Adrenaline loser calls him over and Jesse sets his papers down, next to a bottle of Mountain Dew.
Oh fuck yeah. Puck can totally kill two birds with one pee break.
Backstage is awesome because it has all these curtains and he can kinda hide behind them. Not that he needs to hide. It just seems like every time he’s pulling his dick out in public, Kurt Hummel’s there to see it.
Like he is right now, and what the shit, did he come out of nowhere.
“Seriously, do you have a public urination fetish, or are you just severely brain damaged?” Kurt asks incredulously.
“Shut up, shut up, this is that dick Jesse’s drink, and we are so getting him back for turning on us and fucking with Rachel.”
Kurt just gives him a look, with that head tilt and the eyebrow arch and Puck feels like he’s missing something, but he needs to get this done before the prick comes back. And maybe that’s why he doesn’t seem to mind that Kurt’s still watching him, like it’s not strange or creepy or anything. Not that Kurt’s watching his dick, but still. He feels like he should be embarrassed or something, except he’s not.
Okay, he’s gonna think about that later.
He manages to get the bottle back on the table before Jesse gets back, and Puck’s totally not grinning like a dope when he says, “Enjoy your sweet hit of the Dew, bro,” when he shoulders past Jesse.
“Excuse me?” and Puck wants to punch him for his voice being all classy, “As if I would drink anything with that much sugar, caffeine and garishly coloured like that.”
He turns in time to see Jesse giving him the eyebrow and one of the girls from the blowjob choir taking a deep swig of the tainted Dew.
And Kurt, still half hidden in the curtains, looking like he’s trying not to laugh.
It’s the end of the year party, and everyone is burning all their notes in Steve Donaldson’s backyard. Puck never takes notes or even opens his notebooks, so he just throws his text book in the bonfire, watching the pages curl up and flake off.
“You’re not supposed to keep those!” Carly Anderson shrieks, and Puck waggles his eyebrows at her.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Puck asks. “Getting rid of it in the best way possible.”
She just rolls her eyes, and whatever. It’s not like she’s hot enough to matter. He goes back inside. Unlike the epic parties of epicness McKinley’s had this year, the booze is all nicely laid out and in separate containers. Puck makes for the beer table. Someone’s managed to acquire a case of Pabst and it’s like fucking gold after months and months of Natty Light.
The party’s pretty mellow so far, but it’s fucking early, and the keg won’t be tapped until that fucker Norris and his valedictorian ass gets here. He could go hang with Finny D, but the boy and Rachel are having a moment and Puck’s pretty sure he’ll get the evil eye from her. Quinn’s avoiding him - no big surprise there - and she’s gotten the rest of the Naked Dicks on her side and dammit, when did those damn glee kids become his only fucking friends?
Whatever. He’ll show those losers that they’re missing out on prime Pucksaurus time. He grabs another two PBRs and heads out to see if Jewfro’s managed to sneak in, and maybe possibly Puck will find a way to throw the creepy little fucker’s clothes into the fire. Without Jewfro in them; he’s not a murdering asshole.
A couple Pabsts later, and this is such a fucking familiar feeling, pushing his way to the bathroom and hoping to fuck he doesn’t piss himself in the hallway. The party has picked up in a major way and there’s tons of people now, all of them in his way.
“Fuck this” he says, and heads to the stairs. Yeah, Donaldson’s given them the “Go upstairs under penalty of death” speech, but Puck can take that wiry fucker. Plus, Donaldson’s mom’s bathroom is 100% likely to be clean and empty.
He’s in luck, the whole upstairs is quiet and dark and Puck’s pretty damn happy when he flicks on the bathroom light, except holy fucking shit it’s deja fucking vu.
Kurt Hummel is sitting in the tub, knees splayed open and his wrists tied to his ankles with his own scarf. He’s gagged with another scarf - lucky it isn’t one of the football players’ dirty socks - and Puck would totally think about that gag some more, except -
Shit. He’s gotta go.
“What are you doing here?” Puck shifts on his feet, trying to remember if Donaldson has another bathroom. He only remembers the downstairs one, but he’s pretty sure Santana and Brittany aren’t going to let him in.
Kurt glares at him, mouth trying to work around the gag, fabric dark with spit. Puck sort of stares until he can’t ignore the urgency in his bladder anymore.
Whatever. It’s not like he hasn’t pissed in front of Kurt before.
“Look, dude. I gotta pee. Deal with it.”
Kurt makes a sound, loud and strangled, but Puck’s popping open his fly and yanking down his zipper.
He takes out his dick and aims. The sound of it hitting the water is probably the best thing he’s heard all night. It’s even better than hearing about two for one nacho night at the local bar and grill near his house.
He rolls his head back and grins at the ceiling, letting his eyes fall shut. He’d totally be up for passing out right now, except getting pee on himself isn’t cool at all. He shakes his dick a little, just for good measure because nobody needs pee in their underpants.
Even if Puck’s not wearing any.
He glances over his shoulder.
“You’re totally checking out my junk, aren’t you?”
Kurt stares straight ahead. He’s not even blinking.
Jeez. Like the faucet or the back of his eyelids are more interesting than Puck. What. Ever. Puck’s dick is probably the coolest thing Hummel will ever see in his life.
Not that Puck wants Kurt to look at his dick.
He tucks himself back in and zips up. Shit it’s hard to ignore Kurt. He’s all tied up and ready to open. Like a present.
He’s seen this done before. Hell, Puck’s done this before, trick some loser into thinking they have a shot at being cool and then tie him up in the bathroom.
Sucks to be him.
He thinks about leaving, except if he does, Kurt’s probably going to tell Mercedes - the two of them practically share a brain anyway - and then Puck’s not going to get any peace at all. He’s seen what that chick can do and getting on her bad side is probably as scary as what he imagines fighting Sue Sylvester on double her daily dose of ‘roids would be like.
“I think I like you better when you can’t talk,” Puck says, scratching the back of his neck, looking at Kurt hogtied and gagged in a bathtub.
Is it hot in here? It feels hot in here.
Kurt glares, makes some sounds like he’s trying to talk, muffled and garbled and Puck is totally not thinking about getting Kurt to make those sounds around his dick.
Maybe he is.
Puck’s a dude. He thinks about sex a lot. His brain will shut off and evaporate if he doesn’t.
“I’m gonna regret this,” Puck says to himself, ignoring the sounds coming out of Kurt’s mouth.
They’re kind of hot. And making his dick twitch.
And that’s not cool.
He reaches for the gag, but Kurt jerks away, nearly hitting the tiles on the walls and staring at Puck’s hands.
Kurt gurgle-groans around the gag.
Puck stares at him. “You want to stay in there? I can make that happen.”
Kurt rolls his eyes, and Puck doesn’t get it at all.
Fuck this shit. If Hummel’s going to be a little bitch about who gets to help him, then that’s fine by Puck. He shrugs his shoulders, scowling, and turns for the door.
Kurt makes a noise, strangled and desperate, and yeah. That’s pretty much a mouth around his dick sound.
Puck grins, turning back to him.
Kurt’s eyes are wide, almost like they’re begging him, saying help me or maybe it’s come, put your dick in my mouth.
Puck could work with that.
Kurt jerks his head to the right, once twice until Puck’s following the motion until he’s staring at the white porcelain toilet.
“You need to take a piss?” Puck says slowly, looking back at him.
Kurt rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall. He tries to gesture with his hands, but it doesn’t get very far, still tied to his ankles.
“I don’t speak gay mime,” Puck says as he drops the toilet seat and sits on it, facing Kurt. He reaches for the scarf around Kurt’s wrists and ankles, tugging at the knot. Kurt isn’t freaking out about this like he did -
Puck’s fingers still on the knot.
Maybe Kurt likes being gagged.
Kurt makes another noise, impatient, and Puck realizes he’s been staring blankly at the shower wall, zoning out with his mouth hanging a little open.
Getting Kurt untied is suddenly the most important thing in Puck’s life.
He digs in his back pocket for his pocket knife. The blade isn’t sharp enough to cut all the way through in one go, so he works at it, watching it fray until the fabric rips and loosens.
The second Kurt’s hands get free, he yanks the scarf from his mouth, rubbing at the corners of his mouth briefly.
“That was a Hermes!”
“Whoa, dude,” Puck says, leaning back. “Nobody said anything about an STD.”
Kurt rolls his eyes and tries to stand. He stretches out his legs, bending forward to do some dancer stretching shit Puck doesn’t know about, but the way Kurt’s able to bend, he’d sure like to learn.
“I’m surprised you even know where the toilet is,” Kurt says when he straightens up, rubbing his wrists. “You should wash your hands, by the way.”
It’s sharp, curt, and totally not how someone should talk to his rescuer. Especially if his rescuer is Puck, who is just awesome by default.
“Wait. Are you pissed about that,” Puck says, gesturing towards the tub.
“Of course not,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes. “I just really enjoy being tied up and left in a tub. I don’t know how I lived without it.”
“Oh, come on,” Puck says, leaning against the wall. “It’s not like it’s not just you. We did it to Finn one year.”
“And left him tied up in a bathtub?”
Puck shakes his head. “Nah, we stuffed him under the kitchen sink and locked the doors on him. His mom thought he was a ghost.”
“Charming as always.” Kurt says it in that dry bitchy tone he always uses, but his mouth is curled up in one corner so Puck doesn’t take it seriously.
What he does take seriously is when Kurt reaches for the door handle.
Puck catches his arm and leans forward. He totally means to say something like, hey wait or stay for a minute, but he says, “I saw you looking at my dick,” instead.
Not his best pick-up line, but Kurt’s breathing hitches, if only for a second and then he’s got that haughty look back on his face. “It’s a little hard to miss it when you have it flopping around all the time.”
“My dick doesn’t flop,” Puck says, pulling back, insulted. “It’s awesome.”
“Hm,” Kurt says, glancing past him so he can fix his hair in the mirror on the door. “Keep telling yourself that. I’m sure one day it will come true.”
There’s no way Puck could ever let that slide, even if it came from someone he didn’t want checking out his dick - which, okay. Is like, no one, but whatever. He’ll show him how true it is.
Puck grabs Kurt’s shoulders, turns him and backs him up against the sink. There’s a bright shine to Kurt’s eyes, sparking, and Puck should probably be freaking out right about now. At least a little.
Whatever. He’ll deal with it later, after he’s gotten a little something something and probably a little more drunk, at least, but right now-
Right now, Puck smirks and leans in, ready to get this party started, but then Kurt stops him, hands on his chest.
Pushing him away.
“You are never peeing on me,” Kurt says very seriously, like it’s a deal breaker or something.
Puck makes a face, pulling back a little.
“Gross. What is wrong with you, Hummel?”
Kurt pushes him back a bit more. “Oh, like you don’t have a thing for pee.”
“Hey, maybe you’re the one with a thing, since this is like the fifth time you’ve watched me and all.”
Puck rolls his eyes - Kurt getting pissy isn’t going to do either of them any favors - and he steps forward to crowd him against the sink again.
“Fine,” he says, running his fingers through Kurt’s hair, messing it up until it spikes oddly in several directions. “I won’t pee on you-”
“Thank you,” Kurt says, and then he surprises Puck by sealing the deal, pushing forward against him and pressing their mouths together. It catches Puck off guard; he nearly trips over the rug on the floor, but then he’s pulling up the back of Kurt’s shirt, touching hot skin.
Kissing Hummel- Kurt. Whatever. Kissing him is surprisingly hot. Which okay. Shut up. So he’s thought about it before.
Puck makes a sound from the back of his throat when Kurt’s teeth drag over his lower lip, and then Kurt looks bright eyed and smug when they break away.
It’s kind of hot, Kurt looking like that, but he didn’t let Puck finish earlier.
“I won’t pee on you,” he says, grinning as Kurt starts to frown. “But only if you promise to let me gag you-”
The with my cock gets cut off when Kurt just rolls his eyes and, blushing a little, kisses him again.