I Still Want To Marry You (But there's one small problem) PART 2 [Puck/Sam]
It’s a Friday when Santana announces to the Glee Club that her parent’s are away for the weekend, and that she’s having a kickass party if any loosers want to increase their popularity. She tells them disinterestedly as she straightens out her cheerleader outfit, like she doesn’t give a damn if they come or not, but when she looks around to take in their reactions her eyes narrow, warning them that if any member of the Glee Club doesn’t turn up then they are pretty much guaranteed to be slushie central on Monday.
Puck offers to give Sam a lift to the party, and he agrees happily. God knows he needs to get out of his house for the night. It’s still a little strained since he accidentally dropped the F-bomb. His parents frown upon cussing almost as much as they frown upon him failing Math. Neither of them seem to be backing down, and until someone surrenders (and Sam sure as hell isn’t going to) things are going to stay pretty tense.
After school, Puck drops Sam off home. He changes out of his clothes into a clean shirt and jeans, after rummagingthrough the enormous heap of laundry on the floor. Apparently his mom is trying to force Sam to apologise for his behaviour by refusing to do his washing. He doesn’t actually care because he knows that she’ll get pissed off enough about the dirty clothes accumulating in his room and wash them eventually. Besides, he’d probably shrink his clothes if he tried. He could probably donate them to Rachel if they did.
He waits on his front porch for Puck to turn up because he feels like it’s an appropriate demonstration of how he is definitely not apologising for anything. All it ends up doing is giving him a chill though, so by the time Puck does decide to cruise down the road ten minutes later than he said he would, Sam’s teeth are actually chattering. Still, he’s so relieved that he can get into the car and attach himself to the heating system that he forgets to be angry at Puck for being late.
The ride is relatively silent, except for the sound of the music that rushes out from the stereo. Puck keeps his eyes fixed on the road and Sam looks out the window. Sometimes Puck retreats back into himself, and Sam knows better than to try and coax him out. When they get to Santana’s the driveway and half the street are packed with cars but Puck manages to tenaciously squeeze his car into the smallest space Sam has ever seen in his entire life without damaging anyone else’s vehicles. Apparently Puck can be a decent driver some of the time.
Before they go inside, Sam grabs Puck’s hand, and Puck smiles faintly in a way that does all kinds of stupid things to Sam’s heart. The entire house is packed full of people when they finally manage to push there way inside. The music from the stereo is blaring so loud that Sam can actually feel the bass thumping in his chest and just the smell of beer almost has Sam drunk out of his mind.
Puck lets go of his hand to join some of the football team, and on his way to the kitchen in search of drinks Sam unfortunately encounters a drunk Rachel Berry who decides to cling tenaciously to his shirt and slur out whatever bizarre crap comes into her head. Every time Sam tries to peel her fingers away from his chest she seems to misinterpret it as an encouraging pat and continues to babble more enthusiastically than before. Sam’s seriously worried he might actually die of boredom when Santana marches up to them.
“Ladylips,” she greets him disinterestedly, before surveying the people swaying drunkenly in her living room with a hawk-like glare. Her eyes catch sight of Rachel’s clinging form and she rolls her eyes. “That drink is non-alcoholic, hobbit”.
She struts off after that, and Sam is left with a mildly embarrassed and apologetic Rachel who excuses herself quickly, cheeks flaming red. Sam laughs quietly to himself, relived to have finally escaped. He spots Puck across the room smirking at him, so he sends a quick smile his way before ducking into the kitchen in search of some much-needed alcohol.
He grabs a beer from one of the coolers in the kitchen just as Finn walks in, looking for a bottle opener. They talk about football and Glee Club for a while before Sam accidentally kills the conversation with an Avatar reference and Finn just looks at him bemused. They manage to stumble into awkward small talk for a few painful minutes before Finn finds an excuse to rejoin the party. Sam finishes his bottle as Puck enters.
Puck grins a little as he reaches for a bottle and opens it against the counter even though the bottle opener is sitting in plain sight where Finn just left it. “You hiding out in here?”
Sam shakes his head because he isn’t. If anything he’s waiting for either the people dancing in the other room to get so drunk that they will find his geeky comic-related slip ups to be endearing or they will forget about it entirely by the next morning, or until he gets drunk enough that he thinks he’s cool and doesn’t actually care what kind of crap comes out of his mouth because it will be all levels of awesome.
Puck takes a sip of his beer and says, “Oh hey, I forgot to ask. My mum’s being totally lame and she kind of wants your parents to come round for dinner. She made me promise to ask you.”
“Um they’re busy,” Sam lies quickly, carefully examining the rim of his own beer bottle that shines slightly from the condensation collecting into tiny droplets around it.
Puck breathes in steadily, something that Sam takes as a big fat neon flashing warning sign because it’s something Puck always does when he’s trying to contain his anger. Sam bites his lips as Puck watches him carefully with a guarded look. “I didn’t say when”.
“Yeah, I know. It’s just they’re pretty um busy...a lot”. It’s not exactly a lie because his parents do work pretty heavy shifts and even when his dad does get evenings and weekends off he spends most of that time glued to his computer working anyway. His mom just has a tendency to rush around everywhere regardless of whether she has anything to do though, but Sam considers that to be just as much of a full time occupation as her actual job.
Puck sighs heavily. “Sam, what’s going on?”
Sam sags against the side of the counter, puts down his empty bottle and sighs. “Okay, so I might have, uh, forgotten to mention that we’re dating to my parents. I mean, I haven’t even told them I’m gay yet, and I
haven’t found the right time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Puck demands.
“Because I thought you’d freak out or something,” Sam replies quietly, hating himself a little bit. He doesn’t want to underestimate Puck because of his own insecurities but he doesn’t know what else to say. Comprehension flashes briefly over Puck’s face before giving way for his anger to seep through.
“That’s why you’ve been acting so weird lately?” Puck asks and when Sam nods he lets out a frustrated sound. “Fuck Sam you should have told me, we’re supposed to talk about this shit but you keep on hiding things from me”.
“I’m not hiding anything!” Sam shouts back a little desperately.
“Yeah?” Puck demands, slamming his own bottle down hard onto the counter, so that some of the liquid sloshes out onto his hand and down the sides of the bottle. “Well why don’t you tell them about us?”
Sam opens his mouth to answer but he can’t find the words to explain in a way that Puck will understand, but the longer he stumbles over words the darker Puck’s expression gets. He doesn’t want to be having this fight in Santana’s kitchen with loud music blaring and his drunken friends shouting ecstatically in the room next door. He doesn’t want to be having this fight at all.
A flicker of understanding flits across Puck’s face and he laughs harshly. “You’re ashamed of me, aren’t you? Fuck, that’s it isn’t it?”
He doesn’t let Sam answer his question instead he storms out of the kitchen ignoring Sam’s calls.
Sam mopes around the party for half an hour before pulling himself together and going in search of Puck. He needs to explain. He doesn’t want Puck to think he’s ashamed of him. He’s not. Instead of finding Puck he bumps into Finn during his search. His fellow quarterback is sporting a large orange stain across the front of his shirt that wasn’t there earlier.
“Hey Finn,” Sam greets him. “What happened to you?”
Finn looks down at the stain on his shirt and scrunches up his nose. “Rachel got carried away, so I took her home. She ended up spewing all over me when I helped her out of my car. It was pretty disgusting.”
Sam sympathises with Finn’s bad fortune even though he has no control over where or when Rachel Berry decides to unleash the contents of her stomach. Still he kind of feels bad for Finn. It must be inconvenient feeling responsible for everyone all the time. He asks if Finn has seen Puck anywhere.
“Yeah,” Finn answers. He catches a whiff of the stench coming from his shirt and winces. “Dude stormed off to his car when I was trying to get Rachel into mine. He looked pretty pissed”.
Sam frowns realising he has no ride home and no way to talk to Puck before tomorrow because he knows Puck won’t answer his phone calls while he’s sulking. Finn looks thoughtful for a moment, then smiles warmly. “Hey you can catch a ride home with me if you want. I just came back to get Kurt anyways”.
Sam accepts the offer gratefully, and after Finn locates Kurt singing karaoke with Mercedes on a makeshift stage made from beer crates in the basement, they go outside to Finn’s car. He gets into the back seat while Finn bundles Kurt into the passenger side and can’t help but smile a little at Kurt looking dishevelled with his face mashed up against the window.
*
His mother apologises to him out of the blue when he wakes up the next morning, feeling like a complete asshole. She presents him with a plate of brownies she picked up on her way back from work as a peace offering, and assures him that she knows Puck is a good kid. She just doesn’t want Sam to fall behind and have to suffer because of it.
He accepts her apology and agrees to see a tutor once a week after school to help explain the things he doesn’t understand in class. He tries to phone Puck eleven times before he gets sick of hearing the generic voiceon the automated voicemail and gives up.
*
Its Sunday morning when the proverbial shit finally decides to hit the fan. Puck still hasn’t replied to any of Sam’s messages, and a part of him worries that Puck might have had an accident driving home from Santana’s party on Friday night. His driving is reckless at the best of times. Sam spent Saturday gorging on brownies and watching his phone until he realised how utterly pathetic he was being and went for a run to clear his head (and to get rid of all the brownies clogging up his bloodstream). Still that doesn’t make him feel better when he wakes up Sunday morning knowing that Monday is quickly closing in and he’s no closer to resolving things with Puck.
He slumps into his seat at the breakfast table, grunting what is meant to be a greeting. His father eyes him curiously over the top of his newspaper before his head disappears behind the headlines. Humming to herself, his mother busily washes up the dishes in the sink and meticulously dries them with a towel she keeps on her shoulder.
She stops when she notices Sam pushing his waffles around his plate with his fork. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
Sam sighs and shuts his eyes. He can still see Puck’s face, hurt but defiant on the back of his eyelids. He doesn’t want to lie anymore. “Me and Puck kind of had a fight. He won’t return any of my calls”.
His mother smiles sympathetically at him as she inspects the surface of a clean glass before placing it back in the cupboard above the sink. From the corner of his eye, Sam notices his father folding his newspaper evenly and setting it down on the table, interest piqued.
“Maybe it’s a good thing,” his mom suggests encouragingly, looking to his father for support. He nods accordingly. “You’ll have more time to study - get your grades back up- instead of playing those video games together.
Sam shakes his head in frustration and pushes the plate away, watching yellowing grease seep out from the waffles and stain the plate. He doesn’t feel hungry. “No, I just- I need to make things right with him, mom. It’s my fault- you didn’t see his face.”
There’s a pause in the conversation as his mother tips the dirty water down the drain and the bubbles start to disappear. She turns back round wiping her hands on the towel still sitting on her shoulder, her face patient. Sam doesn’t want to disappoint her. He really doesn’t.
“Look, honey,” his mom says gently, her voice placating. It’s the same tone she used to use when Sam was little when he fell and cut his knee or the time he fell out of the tree house in his old garden. “I know you two were good friends, but I think it might be for the best if you just…let him be. He wasn’t exactly helping you improve your grades was he? You’ll have plenty of time to sort things out in the summer”.
Anger starts to simmer in the pit of his stomach as he watches her stand their smiling at him, patronising Puck. He knows that isn’t her intention but it doesn’t stop his hands from clenching his fists. His nails dig into the soft flesh of his palm. He feels the familiar warm wetness of blood run across his fingers. When he looks across the table to see his father’s reaction he finds him bobbing his head along enthusiastically in agreement with his mother’s advice and something inside suddenly snaps.
He jumps up from his seat, and the chair screeches across the tiled floor. “You don’t get it do you? I don’t care about my stupid grades!”
“Now Sam, we understand that you’re upset but that’s no reason to over react,” his father interjects calmly, straightening his tie. It seems to be a permanent fixture around his father’s neck and for one hysterical second Sam wonders if he wears one to bed over his pj’s.
“But you don’t understand, Dad! That’s the problem!” Sam shouts heatedly. He has no idea how to control the emotions that are suddenly coming to the surface. He doesn’t get emotional, not usually. He looks at his parents bewildered expressions and they just make him more furious. “It’s not just some-some stupid fight to me, okay? Puck matters to me!”
His mother pastes on a strained smile and says, “And that’s good, Sam, being concerned for a friend. But really-“
“He’s not just my friend!” Sam interjects, blatantly cutting off his mother who blinks at him. He hasn’t got the energy or the patience to listen to either of them anymore. “He’s my boyfriend! I’m gay mom!”
The kitchen falls deadly silent. The sound of water leaking from the tap on the sink sounds like a thunder clap between them. Outside the children from next door are playing in the street. Their euphoric screams and shouts echo through the room and set a chill deep in Sam’s spine.
Both of his parent’s faces are blank with shock, their eyes vacant. Tears start to sting the corners of Sam’s eyes but he tries to force them back, waiting for some sort of reaction. It takes a moment for the reality to set in that he might not get one. He kicks the chair he had been sitting on and it splinters and cracks.
“I’m gay,” he says again, choking on tears that have reached the back of his throat. He turns on his heels and makes a beeline for the front door, his stomach churning violently.
When he gets outside he turns straight onto the street walking past the children laughing and beaming as they chase each other around. The morning air is cool against his flushed cheeks. It helps to numb his sensations a little. He realises when he reaches the end of his street that he doesn’t actually know where he’s going. The keys to his mom’s car are in a dish by the front door, but he’s too scared to go back and
get them. So he walks on a little further before deciding to go to the Hummel’s. His phone is still in his bedroom so he can’t call Puck, not that he would answer and he’s pretty sure that Puck wouldn’t be happy to see him right now either. He needs to talk to Kurt. He needs to know that everything is going to be okay. It has to be.
It takes him well over an hour to stumble upon the Hummel-Hudson residence. The roads have slowly started gaining traffic and Sam wonders if his dad is amongst the cars, driving to work even on a Sunday morning. The thought makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. He walks quickly up the path before he gets to the porch and hesitates. His fist hovers over the door before he takes a deep breath and knocks twice.
Finn opens the door, smiling warmly when he sees Sam shuffling in the doorway. “Ummm, can I come in?”
“Sure man,” Finn says, opening the door wider to usher Sam in. He steps inside the hallway gratefully. “You here for Puck?”
Sam frowns. Why would he come to Finn’s looking for Puck? “Uh no, I wanted to talk to Kurt”.
Finn looks a little confused but he shrugs his shoulders and goes in search of Kurt. Sam stands awkwardly in the hallway feeling like he’s intruding and tries to calm his nerves. Kurt appears moments later immaculately dressed as always and smiles at him. “You wanted to see me?”
Sam nods nervously and points to the door. “Mind if we take a walk?”
*
“Well,” Kurt says after Sam tells him pretty much everything. “You’re coming out was certainly a lot more dramatic than mine. I think I should be jealous”.
Sam grimaces, and Kurt quickly smiles reassuringly and gives his arm a gentle but firm squeeze. “Admittedly, you could have handle it a little better but I wouldn’t write your parents off just yet. You didn’t give them enough time to react properly”.
“You think?” Sam asks sceptically, biting his lip a little.
Kurt nods. “It might take a while for it to sink in. You have to let them adjust to it. Don’t give up on them yet.”
Sam sighs. “I guess you’re right”.
“Well of course I am,” Kurt answers as if it’s entirely obvious. They walk silently for a while before Kurt speaks again.“You might want to talk to Puck”.
“Why?”
“He’s been moping in my house since yesterday afternoon. It’s depressing and I think it may be affecting my ability to co-ordinate outfits”.
Sam shrugs. “Maybe
A/n:
Sorry this is late again. I hate not updating regularly. I meant to
post this before I went on holiday (limited internet access) but LJ went
down, and then when I went to post it when I got back there were a few
formatting problems so I've just go round to doing it.
Haven't got anything else so far, but might cut it down to small/ more frequent parts for regular updates.
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Thanks!
EDIT: I don't know what's going on with the formal. This right align thing is getting on my nerves and it's spacing eveything out like crazy -.- Changed the layout so comments should be easier to make now :)