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Kurt's performing a perfect dice on a tragically out of season cucumber -- and seriously, only Carole would serve tzatziki in December -- when his father walks into the kitchen carrying an empty beer bottle. It can't be more than twenty minutes since Kurt handed him that same bottle, which is Kurt's first clue that something's wrong. The dazed expression on his father's face is his second clue. Something happened during the time Kurt left Puck alone with Burt, that much is obvious, and really, Kurt should have known better.
"What's wrong?" he asks, setting his knife down carefully and turning to watch his father pull open the fridge and pull out two more beers.
"Nothing," Burt answers, but he's never been any good at lying, and now is no exception. He watches Burt pry the top off both bottles, then set one down on the counter and lift the other one to take a long swallow. When he's done he looks at Kurt again, a little less dazed now, but his frown isn't making Kurt feel any better.
"You're happy out there in L.A.?" he asks, as though he's actually worried about it for some reason, and Kurt has no idea what Puck said to his father, but it can't have been good.
"Of course," Kurt answers, because it's the truth, but also because he wants Burt to stop looking at him like he might fall apart at any second. "Why?"
"Honey," Carole says, leaving the lamb she just pulled out of the oven to grip Burt's arm and pull him away from the fridge, "why don't you go look for the electric knife. I think we put it out in the garage after Thanksgiving."
She casts a quick glance at Kurt that he's sure is supposed to mean something, but he has no idea what. He saw that same look a few times yesterday while they were looking at table linens, and it didn't make any more sense at the time than it does now. Kurt gives her the tight-lipped smile he usually reserves for humoring Brittany, since it seems to work about as well on Carole.
It's not that he doesn't like Carole; he just doesn't really understand her. But he knows she loves his father, and knowing Burt's not alone makes him feel a little less guilty about leaving Ohio and moving all the way across the country.
And maybe that's all that's bothering Burt; maybe having Kurt home for Christmas reminds him how much he misses having his son around, and he's wondering if there's any chance Kurt will ever come home. There's a part of Kurt that wishes he could give his father a little hope in that department, but he knows he could never be happy in Lima. Even if it wasn't the place where fashion goes to die.
"I told Puck I'd bring him another beer," Burt says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the living room.
For reasons he doesn't even begin to fathom, that gets him another look from Carole, and he has no idea if it's the appropriate response, but at this point he just wants out of the kitchen.
"I'll go."
He crosses the room before his father can argue and picks up the bottle still sitting on the counter, pausing just long enough to catch Carole's approving smile before he makes his escape.
Puck's still on the couch when Kurt reaches the living room, but instead of sprawling across it like he belongs there, he's sitting up with his elbows on his knees, staring at the game without really seeing it. At least Kurt assumes he's not actually watching, because the Bengals just fumbled a perfectly good pass and normally Puck would be coming out of his seat to shout at the offense.
When he stops next to the couch Puck looks up, and Kurt's heart skips at the look in his eyes. Before he can decide what it is he's seeing Puck smiles, reaching for the beer with one hand as he slides his other hand around the back of Kurt's thigh.
He expects Puck's hand to travel upward toward his ass, or maybe for Puck to try to pull him down onto the couch, as though making out in his father's living room is even remotely within the rules. But Puck's hand just stays on his thigh, resting there like he just can't help touching.
Kurt knows he should pull away, because any minute now his father's going to wander back in here to check the score, and the last thing he needs to see is Kurt standing in front of Puck with a large hand spread possessively across the back of his leg.
Except that Kurt likes the fact that Puck can't seem to resist touching him. Since that first night he's been addicted to the feeling of Puck's hands on him, which is the whole reason he's been staying out of the living room since Puck got here, because he knows his weaknesses as well as he knows Puck's, and he doesn't want to have to choose between Puck's hands and his father's sanity.
"What did you say to my father?"
The warm pressure on the back of his thigh increases just a little, so brief that it's gone before he even registers it. Then Puck pulls his hand away and leans back on the couch, arm stretched across the back and Kurt should be glad he's not touching anymore, because his father's going to wander back in any second, but his leg feels kind of cold now.
"What makes you think I said something to your dad?"
"Because he walked into the kitchen just now looking like someone kicked a puppy, and he started asking me if I was happy in L.A. God, you didn't tell him anything gross about our sex life, did you?"
"Babe," Puck says, and the way he draws out the word is really distracting, but Kurt blinks and forces himself to focus on Puck's eyes instead of watching his mouth move. "There's nothing gross about our sex life. Our sex life is totally hot."
Kurt curses his perfect porcelain skin for the millionth time and kicks Puck's shoe. "You know what I mean."
Puck rolls his eyes and takes a swig of beer, watching Kurt blush over the neck of the bottle. He knows exactly what he's doing, but Kurt has some pride, so he stands his ground and waits for an answer.
"Relax," Puck finally says. He leans forward and sets his beer down on the coffee table, but before Kurt can go for a coaster Puck's hand catches his, then he's being pulled down onto the couch. "He's probably just worked up because he can see how crazy you are about me, and he knows you're totally going to gay marry me and throw the world's gayest wedding, and he's having a stroke over how much it's going to cost him."
For a second Kurt's so stunned that he doesn't even try to push Puck away when he leans in to open his mouth against Kurt's neck. His eyes close and his hand comes up to rest on Puck's shoulder, completely without Kurt's permission. It's when his head tilts to let Puck's tongue dip into the hollow of his throat that he gets the joke, and he could kick himself, because he's smarter than this.
"Bastard," Kurt hisses, his hands on Puck's chest to push him away, but his heart's not really in it. And his 'no sex' rule is still firmly in place, but they both know he misses this as much as Puck. The difference is that he wouldn't invent outrageous lies about marriage proposals just to distract Puck long enough to break the rule, which is what makes Kurt a good person and Puck...well, clever, certainly, but that doesn't change the fact that he's playing dirty.
Puck's mouth does leave his neck then, but only so Puck can look at Kurt with those big eyes of his. Kurt's pretty sure he's going for innocent, but mostly he just looks like a wolf. "I can't help it, babe. I miss you. I miss us."
Kurt's busy rolling his eyes when Puck leans in again, pressing a soft kiss to Kurt's lips this time. It's a terrible idea, because they're in his father's living room, for God's sake, but Kurt's only human, and Puck's still a fantastic kisser. So he allows it for a moment or two, even kisses Puck back just to prove that he's not completely unfeeling.
He realizes his mistake when Puck growls low in his throat and pushes Kurt's lips apart with his tongue. There's a hand on his thigh that Kurt would swear wasn't there a moment ago. There's another hand on his back, pushing up under his shirt, Puck's mouth is wet against his and those needy, hitching gasps are coming from Kurt's throat.
He wants to pull away, to engage his brain again and grip the front of Puck's shirt and shake him, to make him understand that he can't joke about stuff like weddings and forever, not when just the thought makes Kurt's pulse race so hard he thinks for a second he's having some kind of attack. He wants to tell Puck not to say things he doesn't mean, but he only gets as far as a soft 'Noah', like a sigh against Puck's mouth, before someone else gasps from behind them.
"Oh, God," Finn says, and Kurt closes his eyes and doesn't bother to look when Puck jerks away to glare at his stepbrother. "Sorry...it's just...Mom said to tell you dinner's...uh...ready."
"Hudson, your timing fucking sucks," Puck growls, and Kurt takes a deep breath and forces his eyes open.
"Guys, I'm really sorry, I..."
"No, it's fine," Kurt says, pulling away from Puck and standing up to straighten his clothes. "Noah knows this isn't the time or place just as well as I do. I just lost my head for a moment, that's all."
Puck opens his mouth to say something, maybe to argue that this very much is the time and place, but they both know it's not true. Or maybe he just changes his mind when he sees Kurt's expression, because his mouth closes and he lets out a frustrated growl before he pushes past Finn and stalks down the hall in the direction of the bathroom.
Finn doesn't even blink when Puck shoves his way past. He's still standing there, red-faced and sort of open-mouthed, and Kurt blushes faintly at the memory of a time when he would have found that expression charming. It's not that Finn's not still cute, in a clueless sort of way, but Kurt's tastes have definitely changed with age.
"That...was really weird," Finn says, shaking his head in a way that reminds Kurt of dogs and water. "I mean, I'm happy for you and everything, bro, but seeing you with Puck...definitely weird."
He's right, of course, and it's exactly the reaction Kurt's been expecting since he let Puck talk him into coming back to Ohio. Even Kurt thought it was weird that first night, when Puck pulled him close and laid a kiss on him that actually curled his toes. So he can't really blame Finn for being a little freaked out, especially considering Finn used to have to defend him from Puck back before Glee killed both their reputations.
"You get used to it," Kurt says, and when he smiles Finn manages to pull it together enough to smile back at him.
"Get used to what?" Puck reappears in the doorway, and Finn's quick enough to get out of his way this time. Puck crosses the room to pick up his beer from the coffee table, hand on Kurt's arm as he straightens up.
"Our homosexual agenda," Kurt answers, earning him a grin from Puck and another blush from Finn. Even the tips of his ears go pink this time, and he turns on his heels and mumbles something about telling Carole they're on their way.
"Good one, babe," Puck says, and Kurt allows himself to be pulled forward for a surprisingly chaste kiss.
"You should know that Carole's been experimenting with international cuisine," Kurt whispers. "I think she's going for less Ohio, more L.A., which apparently translates to Greek food in her world. So be nice, no matter how awful it is."
For a long moment Puck just looks at him, smiling like even he can't believe he's standing in the Hummels' living room holding hands with Kurt, of all people. "I'm not here for the food."
Kurt laughs, bright and happy and for once he doesn't care that he's blushing. He feels the heat spread through his skin, all the way up to his ears, and he laughs all over again at the fact that he and Finn share a family resemblance after all as he lets Puck drag him toward the dining room.