Glee Fic: We Know By Now To Say Enough (5/?)
Title: We Know By Now To Say Enough (5/?)
Rating: T/PG-13
Disclaimer: The title/lyrics used are from the song “The Secret’s In The Telling” by Dashboard Confessional.
Summary: Missing moments between Puck and Quinn during season two.
'Cause you will be somebody's girl
And you will keep each other warm
But tonight I am feeling cold
As soon as he gets out of juvie, he eats a perfectly kosher meal with his family (what’s left of it) as he waits for his phone to charge. His mom keeps looking at him with that look, like she’s so happy and pleased that her son is right here with her.
He’s never actually sat down with his mom and really talked about Beth. Sometimes he wishes he did because maybe she’d understand, at least a little. But that time has long gone and it would just be awkward to bring her up.
His sister is glancing up at him from her food on occasion, but she always focuses back on her plate as soon as he returns her gaze. He briefly wonders if he looks different.
If he’s scarier.
At the end of dinner, he goes to his room and sends Quinn a text:
I’m coming back tomorrow.
He doesn’t get a response.
He can’t sleep at night - he watches the shadows shift in his room and his heart pounds in his chest as he tries to convince himself that things are back to normal now.
~**~
After Quinn sends Sam home, she checks her phone and loses her breath.
And then she remembers that she doesn’t give a damn.
She eats dinner with her mother in a comfortable, quiet silence and she doesn’t think about that text message.
~**~
She and Sam enter the choir room without holding hands. Surprisingly enough, he’s the one who lets go first. But it’s for the best anyway because Puck is already there and when he tries to catch her eye, she doesn’t let him because he’s nothing.
She rolls her eyes when he speaks and she scoffs when he brags about juvie, throwing in a sarcastic, “Wow, what a catch, I can’t believe I let you go,” and manages to keep a completely neutral expression when he throws her a nasty glare that no one notices.
And she still doesn’t care because she’s in the middle of rehabilitating my image with good grades and the dating the perfect boy. Why should she waste any of her precious time concerning about him?
~**~
Puck had his first sip of alcohol when he was thirteen in the back of the high school, hanging out with kids who were larger than life. Whenever he passes the path leading toward the football field, he can practically see the vomit stain he left that night.
He puffed a cigarette when he first started high school and never did it again - such a stupidly expensive habit and it reminded him of his dad too much.
But now, bordering sixteen and seventeen, he’s smoking a clove cigarette in his room, a habit he picked up in juvie because he had to calm down somehow. He’s typed out a text and is debating whether or not to send it.
Since when does he have fear? He presses send and immediately afterward, his hand starts to faintly tremble because it’s the first time he’s being honest with himself and someone else since that day in the hospital.
Especially now.
~**~
From Noah Puckerman:
I didn’t actually try to do the things I did that got me into juvie, just so you know.
She’s side-eyeing this text so much right now that she wouldn’t be surprised if her eyes permanently got stuck in this position.
“Yeah, right,” she mutters as she puts her earphones in and starts playing a mellow Christian song.
She really wants to play something that has a parental advisory label on it, but her mother is downstairs and she can’t do that to her.
~**~
From Quinn:
Why does it not surprise me that your acting like a complete jerk managed to work on those two idiots?
Puck is staring his phone in his hand, surprised that Quinn actually sent something, but pissed that it was something snarky. And the sad thing is he knows it’s because she refuses to look at him, let alone talk to him, so she sends him a text since she’s dying to get an insult (or five) in.
She always has to have the last word.
~**~
From Noah Puckerman:
The nice guy act doesn’t work.
From Quinn:
Yeah, it actually does.
From Noah Puckerman:
Trust me, it doesn’t.
She doesn’t know why, but that last text kind of makes her sad.
~**~
Quinn overhears the AV club in the hallway about Puck’s freak out in Figgin’s office, throwing objects; none of you care about me.
She chews on her bottom lip not knowing how or what to feel. Pulling out her phone, she looks at that second text after he got out of juvie.
Fuck it, she resolves, feeling better than she has all week.
~**~
His mother tells Quinn that Noah’s in his room doing work. Quinn asks if there’s anyone else with him, more specifically any girl because that’s the last thing she needs in her life right now, but his mother just reiterates that he’s doing his homework.
Quinn knocks on his door twice.
“Ma! I told you I’d replace the bulb after I finish this!” Puck yells, making Quinn smile.
She opens the door to find Puck lounging on his stomach, sprawled on his bed with a textbook and graph sheets in front of him.
“Wow, color me shocked,” she says, her hand lingering on the doorknob.
His head whips up in a comical fashion. “Quinn?”
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
She walks in and shuts the door behind her before she notices the ghastly bruise that spills from his back to his bicep, the wife-beater hiding nothing. Her eyes widen and she lets out a horrified gasp, her feet glued to the floor when she should be holding him or doing something other than stand there like a petrified animal.
Puck quickly glances at his shoulder, closes his eyes briefly and sighs. “I got jumped on my first day. It’s taking a while to heal. But at least my face cleared up,” he explains lightly, almost jokingly.
Because she’s kept her eyes wide open for so long, they start to tear up. And even after she blinks once, twice, the tears aren’t going away.
“I’m fine, Quinn,” he adds, trying to reassure her.
She bites her bottom lip hard and now she can’t see, her tears blurring everything. “Tell me what happened,” she whispers.
~**~
He shifts and sits over the edge of his bed, explains driving and swerving and his typical doing without thinking that got him into juvie. He skims over his time there because she shouldn’t know about how bad and scary and fucked up it was. He tells her that Artie is going to tutor him in Geometry and he’s going to clean trash off the highway because anything is better than walking around, constantly glancing behind you.
In a rare moment of sensitivity and empathy, he recognizes that this is how Kurt Hummel has to live every fucking day and that kid is probably the strongest person he knows.
She takes a seat on the floor by the door at some point in the storytelling and with every break, he considers going over to sit beside her.
“I guess I’m used to giving it, not taking it,” he states, subconsciously probing his side, his eye twitching at its soreness. That’s when a single, perfect tear rolls down her face.
“And you’re dating Lady Lips,” Puck concludes rather randomly, bluntly, quietly.
“Sam,” she corrects him, “And yeah. He’s good to me.”
“And your popularity,” he adds.
She doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t have to.
He finally gets to his feet and makes his way across the room. Debating for a second, he lowers himself onto the carpet next to her. She immediately rests her head on his good shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around his arm. He clenches his jaw so tightly that it hurts - this is the first time he’s been touched like this since he got out.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her breath warm on his skin.
“It’s fine.”
She squeezes him tighter. “I wish I knew why,” she murmurs, mostly to herself but he still understands what she’s stuck on.
They sit in the still quiet until her curfew.
~**~
When Puck sees Sam sing his solo to Quinn, he comes to a decision.
It’s after football practice, the team mostly gone and Sam is doing some cool down stretches while Puck takes his time with showering and putting his pads away until he and Sam are the only people left.
“Hey,” Puck says, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.
Sam pauses in his stretches, looking up at Puck. “Hey, dude.”
There’s an awkward silence.
Puck rolls his eyes. “Okay. Might as well get this over with.”
Sam scrambles to his feet, suddenly twitchy. “Okay, if you’re gonna beat me up, please don’t bust my mouth - it will take over my entire face and it won’t be cool.”
“You mean they don’t already?” Puck quips before shaking his head. “Anyway, uh, no, that wasn’t what I was going to do. Can’t, anyway. I’m on probation.”
Sam visibly relaxes. “Right. Cool.” Silence again. “So…this is about Quinn…right?” he starts, his eyes narrowing in defense.
“Look, I’m not trying to win her back or anything. She made her choice and I agreed to accept it. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about her because I haven’t. I’m always looking out for her, even though she doesn’t notice and it doesn’t seem that way,” Puck states strongly. “Honestly, I think you’re using each other for popularity, but I get it. But the second that changes into something else and you hurt her? Gloves are off. And I learned a thing or two in juvie.”
Then Sam has the audacity to laugh. Maybe Puck will reconsider beating him up.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” he lets out a huge sigh of relief, “I seriously thought you were going to kick my ass over this.”
Puck is tempted to say that juvie has mellowed him out a bit, that there’s no fucking point to beating him up because it still won’t change the fact that Quinn doesn’t want to be with him, period. It’s annoying and just the tiniest bit disheartening, but he’s not going to make a scene about it.
“Just…don’t tell her about this, alright?”
“I won’t.”
Puck nods, satisfied. “So…see you tomorrow.”
“See ya.”
When Puck’s about halfway out of the locker room, he hears Sam call out, “Hey, Puck?”
Puck stops. “Yeah?”
“If you, y’know, change your mind. About her. Just…warn me?”
Puck laughs. “No way, dude. Every guy for himself. Besides, I’m sure the Knob-heads can help you out.”
It takes Sam a while to realize what Puck’s insinuating. “They’re called Na’vi!”
Puck shakes his head. That movie was fucking terrible, anyway. At least he knows that Quinn can’t possibly feel anything remotely serious for this weirdo. Not yet, anyway.
The possibility settles uncomfortably in his stomach.
~**~
From Quinn:
Check your mailbox.
He finds the text a little weird, especially since it came at seven in the morning, but he forgets about it until he passes his mailbox after glee.
He’s a little disappointed to find a tube of ointment or something. But there’s also a letter, so that perks him up.
2x a day - helps the bruising. See - I can be helpful also.
- Quinn
He smiles brightly, not caring if anyone were to see him.
~**~
From Noah Puckerman:
I’m impressed.
From Quinn:
The internet is a useful tool, I will admit.
From Noah Puckerman:
Thanks.
From Quinn:
You’re welcome.
previous / masterlist / next
Rating: T/PG-13
Disclaimer: The title/lyrics used are from the song “The Secret’s In The Telling” by Dashboard Confessional.
Summary: Missing moments between Puck and Quinn during season two.
'Cause you will be somebody's girl
And you will keep each other warm
But tonight I am feeling cold
As soon as he gets out of juvie, he eats a perfectly kosher meal with his family (what’s left of it) as he waits for his phone to charge. His mom keeps looking at him with that look, like she’s so happy and pleased that her son is right here with her.
He’s never actually sat down with his mom and really talked about Beth. Sometimes he wishes he did because maybe she’d understand, at least a little. But that time has long gone and it would just be awkward to bring her up.
His sister is glancing up at him from her food on occasion, but she always focuses back on her plate as soon as he returns her gaze. He briefly wonders if he looks different.
If he’s scarier.
At the end of dinner, he goes to his room and sends Quinn a text:
I’m coming back tomorrow.
He doesn’t get a response.
He can’t sleep at night - he watches the shadows shift in his room and his heart pounds in his chest as he tries to convince himself that things are back to normal now.
~**~
After Quinn sends Sam home, she checks her phone and loses her breath.
And then she remembers that she doesn’t give a damn.
She eats dinner with her mother in a comfortable, quiet silence and she doesn’t think about that text message.
~**~
She and Sam enter the choir room without holding hands. Surprisingly enough, he’s the one who lets go first. But it’s for the best anyway because Puck is already there and when he tries to catch her eye, she doesn’t let him because he’s nothing.
She rolls her eyes when he speaks and she scoffs when he brags about juvie, throwing in a sarcastic, “Wow, what a catch, I can’t believe I let you go,” and manages to keep a completely neutral expression when he throws her a nasty glare that no one notices.
And she still doesn’t care because she’s in the middle of rehabilitating my image with good grades and the dating the perfect boy. Why should she waste any of her precious time concerning about him?
~**~
Puck had his first sip of alcohol when he was thirteen in the back of the high school, hanging out with kids who were larger than life. Whenever he passes the path leading toward the football field, he can practically see the vomit stain he left that night.
He puffed a cigarette when he first started high school and never did it again - such a stupidly expensive habit and it reminded him of his dad too much.
But now, bordering sixteen and seventeen, he’s smoking a clove cigarette in his room, a habit he picked up in juvie because he had to calm down somehow. He’s typed out a text and is debating whether or not to send it.
Since when does he have fear? He presses send and immediately afterward, his hand starts to faintly tremble because it’s the first time he’s being honest with himself and someone else since that day in the hospital.
Especially now.
~**~
From Noah Puckerman:
I didn’t actually try to do the things I did that got me into juvie, just so you know.
She’s side-eyeing this text so much right now that she wouldn’t be surprised if her eyes permanently got stuck in this position.
“Yeah, right,” she mutters as she puts her earphones in and starts playing a mellow Christian song.
She really wants to play something that has a parental advisory label on it, but her mother is downstairs and she can’t do that to her.
~**~
From Quinn:
Why does it not surprise me that your acting like a complete jerk managed to work on those two idiots?
Puck is staring his phone in his hand, surprised that Quinn actually sent something, but pissed that it was something snarky. And the sad thing is he knows it’s because she refuses to look at him, let alone talk to him, so she sends him a text since she’s dying to get an insult (or five) in.
She always has to have the last word.
~**~
From Noah Puckerman:
The nice guy act doesn’t work.
From Quinn:
Yeah, it actually does.
From Noah Puckerman:
Trust me, it doesn’t.
She doesn’t know why, but that last text kind of makes her sad.
~**~
Quinn overhears the AV club in the hallway about Puck’s freak out in Figgin’s office, throwing objects; none of you care about me.
She chews on her bottom lip not knowing how or what to feel. Pulling out her phone, she looks at that second text after he got out of juvie.
Fuck it, she resolves, feeling better than she has all week.
~**~
His mother tells Quinn that Noah’s in his room doing work. Quinn asks if there’s anyone else with him, more specifically any girl because that’s the last thing she needs in her life right now, but his mother just reiterates that he’s doing his homework.
Quinn knocks on his door twice.
“Ma! I told you I’d replace the bulb after I finish this!” Puck yells, making Quinn smile.
She opens the door to find Puck lounging on his stomach, sprawled on his bed with a textbook and graph sheets in front of him.
“Wow, color me shocked,” she says, her hand lingering on the doorknob.
His head whips up in a comical fashion. “Quinn?”
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
She walks in and shuts the door behind her before she notices the ghastly bruise that spills from his back to his bicep, the wife-beater hiding nothing. Her eyes widen and she lets out a horrified gasp, her feet glued to the floor when she should be holding him or doing something other than stand there like a petrified animal.
Puck quickly glances at his shoulder, closes his eyes briefly and sighs. “I got jumped on my first day. It’s taking a while to heal. But at least my face cleared up,” he explains lightly, almost jokingly.
Because she’s kept her eyes wide open for so long, they start to tear up. And even after she blinks once, twice, the tears aren’t going away.
“I’m fine, Quinn,” he adds, trying to reassure her.
She bites her bottom lip hard and now she can’t see, her tears blurring everything. “Tell me what happened,” she whispers.
~**~
He shifts and sits over the edge of his bed, explains driving and swerving and his typical doing without thinking that got him into juvie. He skims over his time there because she shouldn’t know about how bad and scary and fucked up it was. He tells her that Artie is going to tutor him in Geometry and he’s going to clean trash off the highway because anything is better than walking around, constantly glancing behind you.
In a rare moment of sensitivity and empathy, he recognizes that this is how Kurt Hummel has to live every fucking day and that kid is probably the strongest person he knows.
She takes a seat on the floor by the door at some point in the storytelling and with every break, he considers going over to sit beside her.
“I guess I’m used to giving it, not taking it,” he states, subconsciously probing his side, his eye twitching at its soreness. That’s when a single, perfect tear rolls down her face.
“And you’re dating Lady Lips,” Puck concludes rather randomly, bluntly, quietly.
“Sam,” she corrects him, “And yeah. He’s good to me.”
“And your popularity,” he adds.
She doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t have to.
He finally gets to his feet and makes his way across the room. Debating for a second, he lowers himself onto the carpet next to her. She immediately rests her head on his good shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around his arm. He clenches his jaw so tightly that it hurts - this is the first time he’s been touched like this since he got out.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her breath warm on his skin.
“It’s fine.”
She squeezes him tighter. “I wish I knew why,” she murmurs, mostly to herself but he still understands what she’s stuck on.
They sit in the still quiet until her curfew.
~**~
When Puck sees Sam sing his solo to Quinn, he comes to a decision.
It’s after football practice, the team mostly gone and Sam is doing some cool down stretches while Puck takes his time with showering and putting his pads away until he and Sam are the only people left.
“Hey,” Puck says, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.
Sam pauses in his stretches, looking up at Puck. “Hey, dude.”
There’s an awkward silence.
Puck rolls his eyes. “Okay. Might as well get this over with.”
Sam scrambles to his feet, suddenly twitchy. “Okay, if you’re gonna beat me up, please don’t bust my mouth - it will take over my entire face and it won’t be cool.”
“You mean they don’t already?” Puck quips before shaking his head. “Anyway, uh, no, that wasn’t what I was going to do. Can’t, anyway. I’m on probation.”
Sam visibly relaxes. “Right. Cool.” Silence again. “So…this is about Quinn…right?” he starts, his eyes narrowing in defense.
“Look, I’m not trying to win her back or anything. She made her choice and I agreed to accept it. But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about her because I haven’t. I’m always looking out for her, even though she doesn’t notice and it doesn’t seem that way,” Puck states strongly. “Honestly, I think you’re using each other for popularity, but I get it. But the second that changes into something else and you hurt her? Gloves are off. And I learned a thing or two in juvie.”
Then Sam has the audacity to laugh. Maybe Puck will reconsider beating him up.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” he lets out a huge sigh of relief, “I seriously thought you were going to kick my ass over this.”
Puck is tempted to say that juvie has mellowed him out a bit, that there’s no fucking point to beating him up because it still won’t change the fact that Quinn doesn’t want to be with him, period. It’s annoying and just the tiniest bit disheartening, but he’s not going to make a scene about it.
“Just…don’t tell her about this, alright?”
“I won’t.”
Puck nods, satisfied. “So…see you tomorrow.”
“See ya.”
When Puck’s about halfway out of the locker room, he hears Sam call out, “Hey, Puck?”
Puck stops. “Yeah?”
“If you, y’know, change your mind. About her. Just…warn me?”
Puck laughs. “No way, dude. Every guy for himself. Besides, I’m sure the Knob-heads can help you out.”
It takes Sam a while to realize what Puck’s insinuating. “They’re called Na’vi!”
Puck shakes his head. That movie was fucking terrible, anyway. At least he knows that Quinn can’t possibly feel anything remotely serious for this weirdo. Not yet, anyway.
The possibility settles uncomfortably in his stomach.
~**~
From Quinn:
Check your mailbox.
He finds the text a little weird, especially since it came at seven in the morning, but he forgets about it until he passes his mailbox after glee.
He’s a little disappointed to find a tube of ointment or something. But there’s also a letter, so that perks him up.
2x a day - helps the bruising. See - I can be helpful also.
- Quinn
He smiles brightly, not caring if anyone were to see him.
~**~
From Noah Puckerman:
I’m impressed.
From Quinn:
The internet is a useful tool, I will admit.
From Noah Puckerman:
Thanks.
From Quinn:
You’re welcome.
previous / masterlist / next