What's the Point of being Popular (if you can't do what you want?) Chapter 9
Title: What's the Point of being Popular (if you can't do what you want?)
Pairing: Sam/Puck
Note: WHOA, I'm alive. Yeah, thats right. Getting back into the swing of things with this chapter, hope you enjoy.
Chapter 9
Once Puck had finished his beer he shoved his feelings roughly to the back of his mind and got to his feet. Santana led the way back into her bedroom and Puck brushed past her, heading straight down the stairs. He kept telling himself he wasn’t going to explode. He was going to find Sam, check on him, then he was going to find Quinn, and THEN he would explode. He didn’t know what he’d do if she got pregnant again; would he need to marry her?
He felt so used.
Just when everything had been changing in his life… not exactly for the better, but at least in a better direction, Quinn came along and pulled him right back into the douchebag he’d been two years before. If someone had asked him then, he would’ve been over the moon at the prospect of settling down with Quinn - she was beautiful, confident… he would’ve jumped at the chance to start a family with her.
Now though, if he was honest with himself, the only person he saw himself getting a buzz from kissing would be Sam. Puck didn’t know if that was a little messed up, but just the idea of his lips on Sam’s sent a pleasant jolt downwards.
He believed Santana’s explanation about Quinn kissing Sam. He couldn’t imagine another way that the exchange could’ve gone down. Quinn had been trying to hurt him by getting him to walk in on her kissing Sam, but it hadn’t hurt him for the reason she’d intended. If Quinn was in a bad enough place to lie and scheme and generally fuck with Puck’s life, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to help her by letting her getting into his head. Seeing Sam’s lips on someone else though - and a girl, at that...
A spike of jealousy ran up Puck’s spine and he shivered.
They reached the bottom of the stairs. Santana went off to the bar for another drink and Puck headed outside to look for Sam. He spotted him from a distance, sitting at the far end of the pool with his legs dangling in the water and staring at the ripples looking as broken and alone as Puck had ever seen him.
Puck hadn’t known if he would be able to control his anger when he talked to Sam about what happened. Seeing Sam looking like that, though, with the light from the surface of the water casting twisting patterns over his face, all Puck’s feelings melted away and were replaced by an intense need to reassure Sam that he didn’t blame him. That things were okay. They were both being messed around by Quinn.
He started making his way towards Sam. The guy was so fixated that he didn’t spot Puck until he was almost all the way around the pool. From here the sounds of the party were muted - maybe absorbed by the water or maybe the effect was all in Puck’s head. He kicked off his shoes and slid his legs into the water - it was pleasantly warm. Santana must have been running the heater for most of the day.
He edged up so that Sam and his sides were touching, their thighs pressed together and Puck leant into him a little to give him a nudge. Sam wouldn’t look at him.
“I’m so sorry Puck,” Sam closed his eyes tightly for a second and opened them again. “I just... I don’t know what happened. I didn’t lie to you, I’m not into... I just, I would never do that to you...” Sam was twisting his tongue trying to apologise and Puck couldn’t help but be a little amused. Sam thought that Puck thought he was into Quinn again, that he’d lied when he came out, that he’d betrayed Puck, after everything...
Puck shook his head slowly, watching Sam.
“Dude, it’s Quinn. She tried to drive me crazy by ignoring me for weeks, and when I didn’t come crawling she had to find another way to get my attention.” Puck felt angry thunder inside him, but he contained it. A kiss between Quinn and Sam was hardly worth his attention considering the other things Puck would need to confront Quinn about.
“She left as soon as you saw. She barely said anything to me.” Sam seemed miserable. Puck knew that Sam had tried really hard to make Quinn happy when he’d been with her... She shouldn’t get away with treating him like shit.
“She used you, man. I mean...” Puck didn’t want to make it sound like Sam wasn’t worth Quinn’s attention, but... damnit, this was complicated. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re an amazing dude, you’re hot and you care and you listen - Quinn should be so lucky, it’s just... you know, we’ve got a history.”
Sam nodded and looked up to Puck at last. He cracked a small grin.
“You think I’m hot?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little to show he was playing, but Puck felt himself blushing at being caught out. To cover he grinned back, and made good on his earlier promise by pushing Sam abruptly into the pool.
He yelped as he went in with a big splash and had his head up and out of the water almost straight away. Puck noticed how much darker Sam’s hair was when it was wet. Sam’s gurgling laughter reached him and he felt strong hands wrap around his calf, and he was pulled in.
They both spent a few minutes horsing around and splashing each other, but things calmed down after that. Puck was breathing a little heavily and Sam scraped his hair out of his eyes - it was getting to the point where Sam needed a haircut, and to choose between the two tones his hair had going.
Puck felt more sober now, and his brain was screaming for another drink so he could avoid giving real thought to what Santana had told him about Quinn. Meanwhile they were standing in the water not far apart, and the smile had melted off Sam’s face.
“I really am sorry... You’re the most important person in my life right now, Puck. I just... I would never try to hurt you like that.” Sam spoke in a hushed voice.
“When I saw you both, I wanted to bolt. I was halfway to the front door before I could even stop myself,” Puck wanted to confess how he’d actually felt... this emotional honesty thing was pretty new for him, though. “I’m not like my father, I promised myself... I’m not like...” He didn’t want to be the first one to mention Sam’s family; he let it hang in the air between them. “I’m never gonna just leave you Sam.”
He took a step forward and Sam met his hug and they squeezed each other and Puck knew that Sam was on the same page. A wolf whistle sang out from over near the house and they reluctantly broke apart. Puck couldn’t help ruffling Sam’s wet hair.
With one look at each other they both launched for the house-side of the pool in an impromtu race to rejoin the party. Puck’s brain was still screaming for shots.
#
About an hour later, both Puck and Sam had changed into new clothes and a whole group of them had just knocked back tequila shots when Santana herded everyone into the dance room. She had gotten someone to pull a few couches into the room and the lights were arranged so they would highlight the microphone. Puck was glad he’d had a chance to get properly liquored up, because the performance part of the night was clearly on and he hadn’t given much thought to what the hell he’d pull out of his back pocket in order to qualify for glee that year.
There was only space for about half the people to sit on the couches, the rest would make do standing or sitting in front of the stage. Puck tried not to sway too much as he walked over to the big cream coloured couch on the left. Three of the kids he didn’t know were sitting there looking a little tipsy and excited.
They saw him coming and Puck was reminded of the image of deer in headlights. One of the guys Puck remembered running into earlier. Kris, his name was; he was either the smartest or the wimpiest of the three because he pulled the other guy and the girl up off the couch and gave Puck a mock salute. God damn right.
He fell onto the couch and got comfy. Brittney was squashed in next to him with tina and Mike basically sitting on each other beside her. Sam came up and made to sit down on the floor in front of Puck.
Puck didn’t really think about what he did next. He was at the really nice stage of drunk where you just do whatever comes to you and it seems like the greatest idea ever. Reaching out as Sam went to sit down, he wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist and pulled him back onto his lap.
Sam hadn’t been expecting the embrace and fell backwards into Puck’s lap a little roughly. He gave a manly kind of yelp and twisted to look at Puck questioningly.
“No way are you gonna be the only senior who ends up on the floor, Evans.” Puck gave himself a mental pat on the back for such a seamless cover story. Sam grinned at him.
“Thanks dude.”
“Hah, get comfy.” Puck squeezed Sam’s waist lightly. He felt heat rising in his cheeks. Sam wiggled back into him a little and Puck had to shift to adjust himself. He could feel Sam relaxing back and he realised how incredibly good it felt to have Sam Evans sitting on his lap. Sam’s body was a warm, solid weight. In the past Puck had never liked it when girls sat on his lap because he felt like he was being walked-over, like they were showing off that they could sit on Noah Puckerman’s lap and get away with it. But this... this felt amazing.
Puck caught a few people looking at them weirdly, but no one said anything. Kurt stared at them with a look that made Puck squirm; it was like Kurt was silently accusing him of being a flaming hypocrite. Puck was prepared to own that, though- he’d been doing a lot of growing recently.
Rachael had jumped up to sing first, and the seven or eight new-comers started to cheer, which led the rest of the club to join in. A whole summer of recovery time had left most of them ready to deal with Rachael over the coming year of glee.
While she sang, Puck tried to get a grip on the song he was planning to use for his audition. He and Sam had been through his music collection a few times in the past days, and they had both settled on songs they were fairly happy with. Still, Puck couldn’t help but feel nervous. What if all of the new faces were way better? He knew the only reason he’d gotten into Glee club to start with was because he’d joined at a time when the club needed males or it was going to fold. He’d improved a lot since then, but what if Schuester wanted to make a fresh break and take on some of these younger kids in his place?
He’d still have football, but somehow that thought didn’t alleviate the nervous weight in his stomach.
Rachel finished her rendition of some classy broadway musical number with a flourish. Puck had to clap around Sam’s waist, which for some reason seemed really funny, before he clasped his hands again and rested his head against Sam’s arm. Maybe he’d had more to drink than he realised.
They’d both had a lot of ideas about what songs they should be doing. Puck had been stuck on Elvis to begin with, while Sam kept trying to persuade him that one of the Springsteen classics would be the best option. After awhile they both agreed that Elvis wouldn’t be any surprise to Schuester, and the only Springsteen song they thought might work was ‘No Surrender’ - but Puck pulled the plug on that idea after deciding that they wouldn’t be able to do it justice, especially since they had to audition separately.
Puck’s eyelids felt heavy. He tuned in and out of the performances - Santana did an amazing tango sort of thing with maracas which had all the freshmen jumping up and down in applause. After the first five or so, the first of the new girls got up to sing, and even in his half-attentive state, Puck had never seen anyone look so nervous.
He had spoken to her just long enough to learn her name earlier in the night. For the most part all the freshmen had stuck together in a pack, but the returning club members knew their club would live or die with these new faces, so they’d all taken turns chipping away until every one of them had been somewhat introduced. This girls name was Kate, he remembered, and gave himself a mental pat on the back. She was taller than Rachel and about a head shorter than Puck himself. She wore some gold dangly earrings, her hair fell in twisted brown strands framing her face, and she had smiled when Puck had been talking to her. That was as much as he could recall. She had a nice smile.
She started in on her number. While the other Glee clubbers had mostly drawn from the top 40 chart, Kate was singing something Puck had never even heard of. She introduced it as ‘Rock me to Sleep’, by Jill … someone. Puck really liked it at first. It was soft and it suited her voice perfectly, sort of deeper and full of emotion. He was impressed that Kate was accompanying herself on guitar - no one else had done that yet.
Halfway through the song, Puck was captivated. She rounded out a phrase about ‘the long dark hands of the sycamore tree’, and Puck could feel it. Her voice was perfect, it was sad, but at the same time, Puck felt inspired.
After that, the song started winding down, and as she started singing the final verse, ‘I wish I had my Mother…’ ‘Wish I had my Father back…’ - Puck could feel Sam tensing up into a ball. He tried to loosen Sam up again by giving him a squeeze, but it was no good. The song was full of melancholy and it had driven a painful spike right into the bullseye on Sam’s shirt.
Kate finished the song with a soft smile, and everyone started applauding sleepily- the song had been half lullaby. Sam was out of the room like a bullet. Puck had felt the guy gathering himself up for a dash, so he was right behind. He stumbled a little after sitting for so long, but he caught Sam against the wall next to the bar.
“Hey.” Puck said softly.
Sam glanced back at him.
“Do you want a hug?” Puck was at a bit of a loss, and the alcohol in his head wasn’t helping him come up with any comforting suggestions. Sam shook his head, and Puck had to bite back his disappointment.
“A drink then?” Puck murmured quietly, reaching out to touch Sam’s shoulder.
“Yeah. A drink.” Sam leaned on the bar and Puck quickly went around it and grabbed a couple of glasses. Thinking better of it, he grabbed two shot glasses, and looked around for a lemon and the salt. Earlier in the night they had done a tequila shot and Sam had completely hated it, but Puck had a half formed idea and he was too drunk to figure out if it was good or not, so he was just going for it. He picked up the salt on his way back around the bar.
He shook Sam a little, who lifted his head and wrinkled his nose when he saw the shots of tequila on the bar.
“Lick your hand, dude,” Puck said, holding up the salt. Sam started to shake his head.
“I told you, tequila wasn’t great for me earlier…” Sam had nearly finished his excuse when Puck ran out of patience, reaching out and catching Sam’s hand easily.
“Never mind that, I’ve got an idea.” Puck wasn’t thinking, he wasn’t sober, he was really only half aware of what was happening. Sam froze the second Puck grabbed his hand, watching Puck warily but not making any move to pull back.
Without any thought, Puck bought Sam’s hand to his lips and licked a solid patch on the back of it. Somewhere in his head, Puck registered the feeling of soft, warm skin. It was hot in the room and Sam stood rooted to the spot, stunned. Puck poured salt on the wet patch as if this was the most natural move in the world (which, in his head, it was), before letting go of Sam’s hand and licking his own.
Then he mentally geared up to execute what was seeming more and more like a brilliant idea.
“The *salt* is the bitter junk from the past, man. We gotta take it but it helps make us stronger.” Puck felt like everything was falling into place. He made a mental note (that he wouldn’t remember) that metaphors should always be delivered by way of alcohol. He jerked his head over at the shots. “The *tequila* is the stuff we’re dealing with right now. Sometime it gets you off balance, makes you feel kinda off - but on top of that there’s that warm feeling, you know? And…” Puck had to think- “And it opens us up, Sammy. It totally opens us up so we can grow and be better, you know?”
Sam was watching him in fascination. The corner of his mouth quirked a little in what might have grown into a smile.
Puck placed almost half a lemon on the bar in front of Sam. He barely noticed how overboard he’d gone with the fruit - if the pieces had been any bigger they both would’ve had trouble getting their teeth into them.
“And… the lemon?” Sam asked, looking down at it, his cheeks a little flushed.
“The lemon is like a few things. It’s like… you know you get salt in a cut, it stings like a bitch but it cleans it out and helps it heal?” Puck was on a roll. Sam nodded slowly, watching Puck. “THAT’S the lemon, its like… it’s us, man. It’s us healing. It’s like… the future. We’ve got a bunch of challenges and stuff to come, but we can take it, and it’s all gonna clean us up and help us be stronger and heal better.” Puck couldn’t take his eyes off Sam.
“You ready?” He asked.
Sam glanced at Pucks face and down at his own salted hand, before nodding again.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” Sam hated tequila, but maybe Puck was right - maybe it would be cleansing, somehow. If nothing else, sharing the shot with Puck would make it worth it. “Let’s do it. I can do this. I can do all of it.” Sam looked up at Puck, taking the shot in his other hand. Puck followed suit.
“Ready,” Puck said, “Three… Two… One…”
Puck licked up all the salt onto his tongue and quickly knocked back the shot and grabbed for his piece of lemon just as Sam did the same. Sucking hard on it to banish the taste of the tequila, Puck found Sam’s gaze and they watched each-other make faces as they both sucked on the lemon pieces and broke into silly grins. A drop of lemon juice ran down Sam’s chin as his face scrunched up.
Finished, Puck ditched the leftovers into the sink and swayed on the spot a little.
“I think…” Sam said, sniffling, and leaning his head down on Puck’s shoulder, “I think maybe, when you put it that way, tequila isn’t so bad after all.”