My Good Intentions..., Puck/Sam, R, 2/3
Title: My Good Intentions Can Leave the Harshest Scars You've Ever Seen
Part: 2/3
Pairing: Puck/Sam
Rating/warnings: light R
Word Count: 24,489
Notes: This is set in the same 'verse as The Right Side of Reason, I'm Numbing My Feeling, Every Second's a Longer Wait, and Soon We'll Fall to Pieces. Title stolen from I'm Yours Tonight by The Academy Is....
Summary: Sam struggles to understand Puck's actions and starts making some potentially life-changing decisions, only one of which goes well.
I divided part two into two parts because it was getting really long, and I didn't want to make everyone wait even longer as I finished up the last scene. :)
back
They lose the game. Sam’s teammates look glum, or just plain angry, and Sam gets a lot of apologies about how the game went down. Some of them are mad at Puck for picking a fight and getting benched.
“Puck just did what everyone else wanted to do,” Finn sighs, pulling his jersey over his head and opening his locker. “We sure could have used him out there, though.”
“I don’t think he’s really in any condition to play a good game,” Sam says, speaking softly so only Finn will hear. Finn grabs a towel and glances at Sam.
“What’s going on with you two anyway?” he asks. “You guys used to be inseparable and now it looks like you’re on the outs.”
“Just a misunderstanding.” Sam doesn’t want to get into the details with Finn. There’s a good chance that everyone will start guessing soon enough. “Hey, can you help me get home? I can’t drive with my shoulder like this.”
“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Finn says, nodding. “I gave Kurt and Rachel rides here, so maybe Kurt can drive your car home, and I’ll follow and give Kurt a ride back. How’s the shoulder feeling, anyway?”
“Thanks, man. It’s doing all right now, I just can’t really move it much,” Sam says. “I’m gonna go find Kurt and Rachel, we’ll be out in the parking lot.”
“Okay.” Finn waves as he heads for the showers, and Sam slings his gym bag over his good shoulder as he leaves the locker room. He goes outside, keeping an eye out for Puck, but he has no idea where he is, and he figures maybe he should leave him alone until he figures out what to do.
Sam texts Kurt and Rachel to meet him by his car, and he’s putting his bag in the trunk when he hears their footsteps in the gravel. Rachel grabs him immediately, gently so as not to disturb his arm, her eyes soft.
“You went down hard,” she says. “Kurt and I were very concerned.”
“Nothing’s broken,” Sam reassures her, closing the trunk and leaning against his car. “Dislocated shoulder. I just have to take it easy for a while.”
“I’m sorry. But at least it wasn’t something more serious.” Rachel smiles at him. Sam nods, then takes a deep breath.
“There’s something I want to talk to you guys about,” Sam says. He sits down on the trunk, and Rachel pauses before climbing on beside him, resting her feet against the bumper. Kurt takes out a handkerchief from his bag and wipes a spot before sitting on Sam’s other side.
Sam takes another deep breath and internally apologizes to Puck, but Rachel and Kurt have kept his own secret, and he trusts them more than anyone else. Puck had looked so deeply wounded and frightened that Sam can’t possibly handle this all on his own.
Rachel puts a hand on his back, and Sam might have actually hugged her if she wasn’t sitting next to his bad arm. Kurt clears his throat, and Sam glances into his clear eyes.
“We’re all ears, Sam,” Kurt says. “Take your time.”
“It’s a long story,” Sam says uncertainly.
“Go ahead,” Rachel says softly. “If you’re ready, I mean. Kurt and I were kind of wondering when you’d finally open up about what’s been bothering you. You’ll feel better afterwards, I promise.”
“Okay,” Sam says, blinking up at the stars as he thinks about everything that’s happened between him and Puck, and even before they’d met. He opens his mouth and starts all the way back at Darlington, telling them about Kyle and his old friends, then about how Puck had found out about everything, and he keeps talking until he reaches the present.
“He’s hurting so badly,” Sam says quietly, picking at a thread on his jeans as he thinks about Puck. “I want to help him. I know how it feels to be that scared, and I don’t want him to feel like that. He’s been there for me through everything. The only time he hasn’t was when he was too freaked out about himself to face me, and I don’t blame him for that, not anymore.”
“I feel like I should be more surprised about Noah,” Rachel says. “But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Don’t worry, I don’t think most people would pick up on it-I’m just very perceptive about these things.”
“You figured me out pretty quickly.” Sam gives her a crooked grin, and Rachel just smiles in return.
“The only thing you can do is talk to him,” Kurt says. “Be there for him like he was for you.”
“There’s something else,” Sam says nervously, gripping his knees. “I’ve been thinking… what if I show him that it’s not something to be ashamed of?”
Kurt narrows his eyes skeptically. “Show him how, exactly?”
“What if I came out to the team?” Sam asks softly. Kurt blinks at him, his eyebrows raised in surprise, and Rachel inhales quietly beside him.
“Sam, if it feels like the right thing for you to do, then of course Kurt and I will support you,” Rachel begins slowly. “But are you doing this for you, or just for Puck? Because after everything you told us about what happened the last time someone outed you, do you feel like you’re really ready to handle the potentially negative consequences?”
“I’m freaked,” Sam admits, swallowing. “But I feel like I have a much better support system here. I have you guys, and I know Coach Beiste has my back, and even though Puck’s gone insane, I can count on him. Back at Darlington, I lost everyone. But it helps knowing that won’t happen here.”
“Karofsky and Azimio are going to give you shit, though,” Kurt says, his voice soft. Sam knows it’s true. He remembers the sign Karofsky tacked up in the locker room about Puck. He’ll definitely become their new target if he goes through with this.
“I just don’t want to hide anymore,” Sam says. “I don’t want to spend all my time being scared of what could happen. I’d rather just be honest and have control over the situation than being outed again when I least expect it.”
“Then it’s decided,” Rachel says firmly. “When are you planning your big announcement?”
“Um… I was just going to tell the team. Word will spread from them. I’m not planning a big announcement to the whole school.” Sam smiles a little. Of course Rachel would suggest something hugely dramatic.
“Soon?” Kurt asks.
Sam chews on the inside of his lip. “I guess… Monday? I don’t want to put it off and chicken out.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be here to support you,” Rachel says.
Sam sees Finn jogging up to the parking lot, and he nods quickly. “Thanks. I mean, really, thanks.”
“You guys ready to go?” Finn asks as the three of them climb off the trunk. “Who’s driving Sam’s car?”
“I will,” Kurt says, and Sam grins and tosses him the keys. Sam heads off to his car with Kurt, and as he pulls his door open he hears footsteps on the gravel. He spies Puck going to his jeep, his face clouded as he flings his gym bag inside. Sam stares for a second too long, and when Puck meets his gaze, he feels that same pang in his chest that he used to feel for himself.
The moment passes quickly, and Puck looks away as his face hardens, and then he slams the door. His jeep roars to life, and Sam gingerly slips into the passenger seat of his own car.
“Do you want to go over and talk to him?” Kurt asks in a gentle voice. “I’m sure he’d stay for you.”
“No, we already talked,” Sam replies softly, fumbling with his seat belt. “I don’t want to get his head all mixed up even more than it already is.”
“I’m surprised about Puck,” Kurt admits, starting the car. He gives Sam a sheepish grin. “To be honest, you surprised me, too, a little bit. I guess I’m just used to being the only gay kid around, and you guys are nothing like me.”
“Yeah, I don’t know the first thing about fashion or musicals or anything,” Sam says, smiling. “Puck sure doesn’t, either.”
“I’m glad, though.” Kurt meets his eyes and gives him one his rare, genuine smiles. “It’s nice to know you’re not alone. Mercedes and Rachel have all been so supportive of me, and it feels good to give back and help someone else out.”
“I’m glad I’m not alone, too. This place is kinda whack, and it sucks that people like Karofsky and Azimio are running around, but… I really like McKinley,” Sam says. “I’ve got real friends here. I’m starting to feel like I belong, you know?”
“You do belong here, Sam,” Kurt assures him. Sam lets his smile linger on his lips as Kurt starts driving. He’s still scared, and he’s sad about Puck, but he finally feels like everything isn’t hopeless because he’s not alone.
He thanks Kurt when they get to his house, and he waves goodnight to Finn and Rachel before going inside. Sam’s almost forgotten about his injury until his parents ambush him the second he walks through the door.
“Mom, I’m okay,” Sam says, looking at her worriedly. Her eyes are red and she looks like she’s been on the verge of tears for a while. “Mom?”
“I’m just worried about you,” she says, drawing him into a careful hug. Sam rests against her for a minute, listening to the way her heart beats quickly in her chest.
“You don’t have to worry. It was just an accident,” Sam says.
“Of course I have to worry,” she responds sharply. “Your father and I got a call from your coach informing us you were injured on the field. How do you think that makes us feel, after how many calls like that we got from Darlington?”
Sam shakes his head, trying to sound reassuring. “It wasn’t like that, Mom. This really was a total accident. Nothing like that is happening here, I swear.”
“You have to tell us if anyone starts bothering you again.”
“I will. I promise.” Sam swallows nervously and wonders if he should tell her about his plans to come out. One look at her tearful expression and he decides against it. If it goes well, he’ll gladly tell her everything. If it doesn’t, well, he’s sure she’ll hear about it anyway, probably from Figgins himself.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Sam says earnestly. “I am. I like it here. There are other gay students here, you know. Openly gay.”
His mom nods, and his dad puts a hand on his good shoulder and gives him a warm smile.
“As long as you’re happy, Sam,” his dad says. “We just want you to be happy.”
“And safe,” his mom says firmly.
“Thanks,” Sam replies softly. His mom hugs him again, and Sam closes his eyes and wraps his arm around her waist, her familiar perfume invading his senses. He’s never met Puck’s mom, and he wonders if she’s nearly as accepting as his own. He hopes she is. He can’t imagine not being accepted in his own home. If she’s not, Sam’s just going to have to plan lots of dinners and sleepovers here until Puck settles down a little.
“Come on, you need to get changed and get some rest,” his mom says, leading him to the stairs. With his mom’s help, Sam manages to get ready for bed one-handed, and when his mom ruffles his hair and whispers goodnight to him, Sam leans over and kisses her cheek.
“Love you,” Sam says, a little embarrassed because he only did this when he was little, but the way his mom’s expression melts makes it worth the loss of cool points.
“I love you, too, honey,” she says gently. “You do look happier than I’ve seen you in a while.”
“Things aren’t perfect, but I’ve made some really great friends here,” Sam says. His mom smiles, stroking his fingers before she gets up and heads for the hallway. Sam exhales deeply as she shuts the door. He closes his eyes, letting Puck swim to the front of his mind. It hurts to think Puck is probably alone right now, angry and scared, and the last thing Sam does before falling asleep is bolster his resolve to find some way to help him.
- - - - -
Halfway through school on Monday, Sam is so nervous he thinks he’s going to throw up. His courage from Friday has mostly dissipated, and now he’s wondering if this whole thing is even a good idea at all. He’s planning to tell the team after football practice, and unfortunately he’s already told Coach Beiste about it, so he can’t back out now. Well, he could, but he’d feel pretty lame about it.
He’d tried calling Puck over the weekend to tell him, but Puck had texted him back with an abrupt “busy,” so Sam had backed off. He wonders how Puck’s been spending his time. He wonders if he’s been with Santana.
Sam closes his locker and is startled to find Santana herself looking at him sourly, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
“Hi,” Sam gulps, his eyes darting around. He’d forgotten that Santana could totally out him right now if she wanted to.
“Hi,” Santana sneers mockingly. “How are you?”
“Good,” Sam says before he realizes that Santana isn’t actually interested in his well-being. “Um, so, what’s up?”
“Okay, look, I’m just gonna cut to the chase here. It’s Puck. You have to do something about him before I murder him.”
“I’m not following. What’s wrong with Puck?”
“Cute,” Santana says, smiling. It somehow makes her look even more terrifying. “Pretending to play dumb to protect your image. I know you’re a big flaming homo, okay? You know what’s going on with Puck.”
Sam feels his face flushing, but he doesn’t deny it. “How’s he doing?”
“He won’t get off my couch,” she snaps. “I have this awesome couch in my room-Brittany always has dibs on it, but Puck’s been wallowing all over it the entire weekend. He just comes in my room and takes root, and it makes it really awkward for when Brittany wants to come over. And Puck won’t even mess around with me anymore anyway, so why should I let him use my couch when he won’t even put out?”
Sam stares silently for a second too long, because Santana snaps her fingers in front of his face and scowls. He flinches slightly, but he’s mostly stuck on how Puck isn’t getting naked with Santana anymore.
“He’s going through a lot,” Sam says eventually, shrugging.
“I know. He’s having some stupid identity crisis that I’m sure has a lot to do with how he stares at your ass, but you have got to get him off my couch. I needs to get my mack on with other interested parties.”
“I can’t control him,” Sam says, wrinkling his nose.
“Oh, please. You have Noah Puckerman whipped,” Santana says.
Sam lets out a snort. “I really don’t. Things would be different I did.”
“Well, you’d better find a way to get him out of my weave, because if you don’t, I’ll tell everyone you’re a gigantic homo.” Santana stands back and smirks. “No offense.”
Sam leans against his locker and lowers his voice. “I’m coming out to the team today anyway.”
Santana raises her eyebrows, and for a moment the mask slides away and Sam sees genuine curiosity on her face.
“Seriously?” she asks.
Sam nods. “I would tell you my motivation behind it, but it’s a really long story that started way before I even transferred here. Do you know what’s really going on between me and Puck?”
“No,” Santana admits slowly, eying him. “Are you two, like, a thing?”
“No. Not really. I don’t know.”
Santana purses her lips, her nails drumming across her arm. “I have to hand it to you, Lady Lips. You’ve actually managed to surprise me.”
“So you can’t threaten to out me anymore because I’m outing myself,” Sam says. He gets a sudden rush as soon as the words leave his mouth. Despite how scared he is right now, he can’t imagine how good it’ll feel to not have to be scared anymore. That is, if everything goes well. God, he hopes everything goes well. He can’t deal with another Darlington incident.
“So, what, you’re just gonna go up and say, hey, I like sucking dick?” Santana asks, coming a little closer as she lowers her voice. “To the whole football team?”
Sam worries his lip and grimaces slightly. “Um… yeah. Not those exact words, but yeah. That’s the idea.”
Santana studies him silently for a long moment. “Huh. I always pegged you as someone who lacked balls.”
Sam chuckles nervously. “I’m pretty scared, not gonna lie. I… well, I was outed at my old school, by someone I used to consider a friend. No one really took it well there, especially not the football team. So I’m just hoping things will be different here.”
“Who else have you told?”
“Kurt, Rachel… you.”
Santana raises her brows. “Not Puck?”
“No.” Sam shakes his head, sighing. “I’m pretty sure he’s avoiding me.”
“So you guys are a thing,” Santana says, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“We’re not anything,” Sam insists, shoving down the now-familiar ache. He looks away and doesn’t go on, and he’s surprised when Santana backs off.
“Well, if you and Puck aren’t having hot and dirty man sex, then I can go back to ignoring your beige self,” she says. She swivels on one heel, but doesn’t walk away just yet, and she throws Sam a glance over her shoulder. Sam looks back at her, wondering why he just told her as much as he did.
“You and Brittany, are you guys…?” Sam trails off, color rising in his cheeks again.
Santana clears her throat, crossing her arms defensively. “We’re none of your business.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“Look, just concentrate on your thing and try not to piss your pants,” Santana says firmly. “As much as it pains me to lose my leverage over you… what you’re doing is actually kind of… not cool, but… not lame.”
Sam watches her walk away, and he wonders if maybe he knows more gay people here than just Kurt. He thinks about Puck and steels his nerve, hoping he’ll get a minute with him during football practice.
Puck manages to spend the entirety of practice on the other side of the field, and Sam would be pissed at the obvious avoidance if he weren’t so nauseated. He lags behind as everyone heads back to the locker room after Beiste’s whistle goes off, spending a moment with his hands on his knees as he tries to relax.
“You all right, Evans?” Beiste asks, and Sam looks up to see her skeptical expression.
“I will be,” he replies weakly. “Maybe.”
“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. If you’ve changed your mind, there’s no shame.”
Sam bites his lip, straightening. “If I don’t do it now, I don’t know if I ever will.”
“Have you talked to your parents about this?” Beiste asks, and Sam shakes his head. “Have you talked to anyone about this? Ms. Pillsbury?”
“No, not really,” Sam mumbles. “I mean… I’ve only really told you. And Santana, but she doesn’t count.”
Beiste nods. “Is it okay if I ask why you suddenly want to come out?”
Sam pauses for a second, realizing this is the first time Beiste has ever asked his permission for anything. He pushes his hair back and looks at the grass, then lifts his gaze to meet Beiste’s piercing eyes.
“I just feel like it’s something I have to do for myself,” Sam answers finally. “So I can officially leave everything in the past, and start over. I don’t want things to be the same way they were at Darlington-”
“I would never let that happen,” Beiste says, and Sam nods.
“I know. But I also don’t want things to be like how they were even before that happened. I don’t want to hide. I have nothing to be ashamed of. And… I want everyone to know that.”
“You’re a brave kid, Evans.” Beiste’s expression softens, and Sam’s anxiety eases for a moment. He follows her as they head back to the locker room, grabbing his bag from his locker and a towel to wipe his face off, and then ducks into Beiste’s office to try to compose himself as Beiste yells at everyone to sit down.
“Evans has something to say to all of you,” Beiste announces. Sam peeks through the blinds and watches as everyone starts milling toward the benches, talking and laughing. Only one person has a huge scowl on his face, and it’s Puck. He spies Puck grabbing his phone, and a moment later, Sam’s phone buzzes in his bag. He searches for it clumsily and finds a text from Puck.
What are you doing?
Sam takes a deep breath and texts back.
I’m coming out. You’ll have my back, right?
He looks through the blinds and watches Puck’s expression change to horror as he glares at his phone. Sam strips off his dirty jersey and takes off his pads, his stomach churning once more. He shoves his dirty clothes into his bag and notices that Puck is making a beeline straight for him.
“Hold it, Puckerman,” Beiste says, blocking him with one hand. “Sit down, Evans has an announcement.”
“Just-”
“Sit.”
Sam goes to the door, feeling lightheaded. Most of the team has settled down, watching him expectantly as he stiffly walks into the room. Puck has a look of barely contained panic on his face, which doesn’t help Sam’s nerves in the least.
Sam stands before his team and takes a few more deep breaths. He’s never truly been out before, not by choice, and suddenly he can’t feel anything but dread. He knows Beiste will do her best to look out for him, but she can’t watch him all the time. Sam knows how quickly things can change.
He looks at Puck, who’s gripping the bench so tightly his knuckles are turning white. Puck’s jaw is set in a hard line, and Sam is surprised to see fear mirrored in Puck’s eyes. He wonders what Puck would have said to him if Beiste gave him a chance to talk, but it’s not like he can ask him now.
Sam clears his throat, trying not to let how scared he is come through in his voice. “So, uh… I have something pretty important to say to you guys. I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
He moves his eyes over the boys sitting before him, hesitating on Finn, who’s looking up with the same wide, kindhearted, slightly dazed look he gives everyone. Sam reminds himself that Rachel said that Finn would back him for sure, and he hopes she’s right.
He skips over Karofsky and Azimio and clears his throat again nervously. “When I transferred here, I was worried that I’d always be the odd one out, since I heard a lot of you guys have been friends for a really long time… but you guys have made me feel really welcome. I love being a Titan, and Coach Beiste is the best coach I’ve ever had, and… since most of you guys have been really cool to me, I feel like I owe you all the truth. I want to be honest. And I hope you guys won’t see me any differently because of it.”
Puck looks angry now. Sam wants to kick him in the face because this is the one moment that he really needs Puck on his side, and instead he has no idea what’s going on in Puck’s head.
Sam forces himself to look away from him. He glances at Beiste, and she gives him a miniscule nod. Sam swallows hard, clenches his fists, and tries not to pass out from sheer terror.
“I’m gay,” Sam says finally, his eyes traveling uncertainly around the room as a surprised murmur rises from the team. “The reason I transferred here is because I had a really bad experience at my old school. I was bullied by the team there. All I wanted to do was play football and just… be a regular guy, but I couldn’t, so my parents pulled me out and moved us to Lima. I’m gay, and I’ve known it for almost my whole life, and I’ve never told anyone like this, and I just hope that everything doesn’t go to hell here, because I like McKinley and I like being here and… um… that’s about it.”
Sam’s face feels hot and he knows he’s blushing hard, which he’s suddenly really self-conscious about. Everyone is avoiding his gaze, looking at each other and mumblings things instead, and Sam exhales anxiously and wishes he were in his room hiding underneath his bed. Anywhere but here. Not even Puck is looking at him.
“Does anyone have anything to say?” Beiste asks, her voice cutting through the noise. The room falls silent. Sam looks around desperately. At least no one is throwing things. Most people look dubious instead of hateful-though Sam can’t even bring himself to look at Karofsky and Azimio; no doubt they’re staring at him like he’s a mutant.
Puck finally meets his eyes. Sam bites the inside of his mouth, watching Puck’s throat bob as he swallows. He can’t place the expression on Puck’s face.
He hears a rustle and Sam’s eyes snap to Finn as he stands suddenly. Finn looks a little shocked, his fingers jittery down by his sides, but he looks firmly at the team, then turns to look at Sam.
“You’re so not what I imagined a gay guy would be like,” Finn says finally, his words accompanied by a nervous chuckle. “I guess I always pictured them like Kurt.”
“We’re just people,” Sam says, shrugging. “I’m the same guy you’ve all played football with before.”
“I know. We’ve actually started winning games now, with Coach Beiste, and you, and…” Finn scratches his neck, his gaze sheepish. “Well, I for one don’t want to see you go anywhere. You’re a good player. And you’re a good friend.”
“Thanks, Finn,” Sam says softly, barely daring to hope as he sees several heads nod in agreement.
“I trust that you all will be mature about this,” Beiste says. “And anyone who can’t be won’t be playing football anymore. Consider this your only warning. Now get cleaned up and get out of here.”
Sam exhales shakily as the room quickly starts buzzing with chatter. Some of the guys head straight for the shower, but most of them circle around Finn, and after a moment of quick discussion, they approach Sam. Sam glances around for Beiste, but she’s in her office.
“So, Sam, since I’m gonna be QB for our next game,” Finn begins, looking at him seriously. “I was kinda wondering if a bunch of us could get together with you and work out our plan of attack. I’ve been QB for a while, but I’ve learned more this year about football than any other year, and I know I really need to have a solid plan if we’re going to win this.”
Sam just looks at him for a long moment, silence stretching out before him. Finn quirks his head, and Sam notices that the rest of the guys are looking at him curiously, too.
“Uh,” Sam says, his mind blanking.
“Are you okay?” Finn asks uncertainly.
“I just… I mean, yeah, sure, we can get together if you want.” Sam nods.
“Cool.” Finn grins, and the team relaxes, and Sam gets a few friendly slaps on the shoulder as the rest of them go to their lockers or to the showers.
“Finn,” Sam blurts out before Finn can turn around. Finn gives him a questioning glance, and Sam hesitates, his fingers curling reflexively.
“Is that it?” Sam asks, not quite sure how to word his question. “You’re… you’re all okay with me, just like that?”
Finn wrinkles his brow slightly and nods. “I mean… yeah. It’s kinda weird, I guess, but you’re still the same guy. Kurt’s taught me a lot about what it means to be a man, and, well, a real man wouldn’t freak out about this.”
“Seriously?” Sam doesn’t know why he’s pressing the subject so hard. He should just shut up and gratefully move on, but he wants to be sure. The whole point of this was so he didn’t have to be afraid anymore, and he needs to be certain or else he’ll second-guess every word that comes out of his teammates’ mouths.
“Look, I don’t know exactly what happened at your old school, and you don’t need to tell me,” Finn continues. “But we’re teammates. And we’re friends. And you being gay isn’t going to stop me from being your friend. The team likes you, Sam. This isn’t going to make them suddenly turn on you.”
Sam lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Finn quirks his lips into another grin, that little half-smile that makes everyone remember just why they like Finn so much, and then he gives Sam’s shoulder a nudge.
“You better get that shoulder better or else I’m keeping your QB spot,” Finn says, and Sam smiles at him, his eyes warm as the knot in his stomach loosens.
“You wish,” Sam says, chuckling as Finn heads for the showers. Sam glances at Beiste’s office and catches her gaze through the window, her expression soft as she gives Sam a nod.
Sam is so relieved that he’s not even angry that Puck seems to have bailed early. He needs to see him, though, so he texts Puck to meet him out by the bleachers.
Sam showers with the rest of the stragglers. It’s almost surreal the way he feels so changed inside, yet everyone is treating him the same as before. He thinks about how happy his mom will be when he goes home and tells her what he’s finally found the courage to do. He figures she’ll be mad first, but that’s only because she worries way too much.
It’s warm outside, and Sam waits alone on the bleachers, the sun tickling the back of his neck. Puck hadn’t texted him back, and Sam thinks maybe he’s not even going to show, but after he fiddles with his phone for ten minutes, he sees Puck’s tiny figure appear on the other side of the field. Sam smiles as Puck clambers up the bleachers, but it falters on his lips when he sees the dark look on Puck’s face.
Puck throws his bag down beside Sam, the metal bleachers vibrating with the impact, and then rounds on Sam with a near snarl.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Puck asks between clenched teeth. Sam’s natural instinct is to meet Puck’s anger with some of his own, but he mostly just feels confused.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. What were you thinking telling everyone you’re gay?”
Sam gives him a miffed look. “I was thinking that it was high time I stopped being afraid, and I’m glad I did. The team is cool with it. Coach Beiste is being awesome about it.”
“You just painted a target on your back!” Puck yells. “Do you seriously think Karofsky and Azimio are going to leave you alone about this? They’re gonna make your life hell, Sam. They don’t need an excuse to be assholes to anybody, but you sure as hell gave them one anyway.”
Sam furrows his brow, his mood dampened. “That’s not fair, okay? You can’t tell me that I should’ve just stayed in the closet because of them.”
“You should’ve!”
“That’s bullshit, Puck! This was a really big deal for me. I’ve been holding on to everything that happened at Darlington for so long, and I’m finally letting it go and moving on and-I don’t need you to fucking yell at me about what a huge mistake I just made. I’m not sorry.”
“You should be,” Puck growls. “You will be when you can’t get those two dickheads off your back.”
“I can’t believe you,” Sam says, stung. “Why would you say something that shitty to me?”
“It’s the truth. I’m not going to sugarcoat things for you.” Puck glares at him, and Sam studies his face, taking in the tightness around Puck’s eyes and mouth, the concern creasing his brow.
“You’re worried about me,” Sam says.
Puck gives him a harsh scowl and sits down beside him. “Look, what you did might have been a big thing for you, and maybe you have all this freaking gay pride or whatever, but I’m just being real with you. You’d better watch your back.”
“I don’t need the lecture. I’ve already lived through it and I came out okay.” Sam tightens his hands on his knees, Puck’s words planting a tiny seed of fear in his mind. “I’m not going to hide who I am, because there’s nothing wrong with me.”
Puck crosses his arms and glares at the field. Sam hesitates for a moment before he speaks again.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, either,” Sam says, then flinches slightly when Puck shoots up and rounds on him again.
“I knew it,” Puck says, jabbing a finger in Sam’s face. “I knew it, I knew you didn’t just do this for yourself. You’re trying to send me a message. You’re so transparent.”
“Well, maybe I was trying to tell you something,” Sam says defensively. “What’s wrong with that? It’s something you need to hear.”
“I don’t need to hear anything.”
“I’m worried about you, Puck.” Sam looks at him earnestly as Puck sits back down. “You really need to talk to someone about this. Obviously I’d like for it to be me, but if you don’t want to, there are lots of other people. There are hotlines you can call-you can be totally anonymous.”
“Okay, slow down,” Puck says, waving him off. “Stop. I have something to tell you.”
“Yeah?” Sam watches Puck’s throat bob as he swallows. Puck takes a soft breath, refusing to meet Sam’s eyes as he begins to speak.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about everything that’s happened,” Puck says slowly. “Kissing you, and fooling around, and everything we said to each other on Friday… I’ve been thinking really hard and really seriously about it.”
“Okay. I’m listening,” Sam says as Puck pauses.
“I care about you. A lot.” Puck finally looks at him, his eyes grim. “After everything that went down last year with Finn and Quinn, I haven’t had a real friend for a long time. Not until you transferred here. We’re buddies, okay? Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t,” Sam says uncertainly. “Puck, what are you trying to say? Just tell me.”
Puck blows out a breath and clears his throat. “I’ve thought about this. About me. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but… I’m not bisexual.”
Sam fights the urge to roll his eyes, shaking his head quickly, but Puck puts up a hand before Sam can speak.
“Listen to me,” Puck insists. “I’m not. I like girls. I’ve liked girls my entire life. I always will.”
“I know you will, that’s why it’s called being bi.”
“No. I’m straight. I don’t like guys, okay?” Puck’s eyes are troubled as he talks. “I’ve never thought about being with a guy. It’s just not in me.”
“You’ve thought about being with me, though,” Sam says, his voice soft. “You have. I know you have.”
“What we did… it’s not going to happen again, Sam.”
Sam shakes his head again, exhaling noisily. “You’re lying to yourself. You told me on Friday when we were in the locker room that you couldn’t be who I wanted you to be, but the only reason you can’t is because you’re not letting yourself.”
Puck stays silent, chewing on his lip and staring ahead with hard eyes. Sam aches to touch him, but he keeps his hands on his knees, giving Puck space.
“What would your family say if they knew?” Sam asks gently.
“If they knew what?” Puck asks with a scowl.
“Just humor me.” Sam tries to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
“My mom would probably throw me out,” Puck says dully. “I don’t know. My family isn’t like the fucking Cleavers like yours.”
“My family isn’t perfect either. My mom’s been on anxiety medicine ever since she got the call that I’d been taken to the hospital because my supposed best friend gave me a concussion.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Puck snaps. “I already told you how I feel. I’m straight. What we did was just me being horny.”
“That’s such a lie,” Sam says. “Look. I’m gay and I’m out. The world didn’t explode. If you admit the truth to yourself, the sun is still going to come up tomorrow. And I promise I’ll support you no matter what happens.”
“I have nothing to admit. I made a mistake with you-that’s it. Sure, it felt nice, but…” Puck seems to struggle for a moment, looking away. “It was a one-time thing. A mistake. I’ve never been attracted to a guy before. I like girls. Call me if you grow a vagina.”
Sam clenches his jaw, standing suddenly as he grabs his bag and roughly pushes past Puck to get to the aisle. He hears Puck clambering behind him, but refuses to turn around.
“Hey, wait-Sam!”
Sam jumps off the last two steps and lands on the field, then jerks away when he feels Puck’s hand on his shoulder. He turns around angrily, and Puck stops short, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Call me if you grow a vagina? Seriously?” Sam spits out.
“It was a freaking joke, man. Relax.”
“This isn’t a joke to me!”
“Okay,” Puck says, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry.”
“I can’t believe I fell for such a jerk,” Sam mutters. “Do you realize the only thing keeping us apart is the fact that you can’t handle that you like someone with a dick?”
“It’s a one-time thing, I told you,” Puck insists. “It’s never gonna happen again. I’m never gonna be into a dude again.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know who you’ll fall for next. You keep telling yourself that you only like girls, except you fell for me. Why the hell are you ignoring that?”
“It was a mistake, and now you’re just pissed because I don’t want you like that!”
“It’s gonna happen again, Puck,” Sam says heatedly. “It doesn’t matter what you do with me. Sooner or later you’re gonna meet someone else-some other guy-and it’s gonna happen again. Then what are you gonna do?”
“It won’t,” Puck says between clenched teeth. “I don’t swing that way.”
“Except for with me.” Sam can’t help the bitterness that seeps into his words.
“Goddammit, Sam,” Puck says roughly. “Would you just let it go? I wish it never happened!”
“I do, too!” Sam yells. “We ruined our friendship over something that didn’t even mean anything to you.”
A muscle jumps in Puck’s jaw as he glares at Sam, and Sam regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth, but he stubbornly clenches his fists and doesn’t take them back.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be friends then,” Puck says snidely.
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Sam shoots back. “I don’t want to be friends with a coward like you anyway.”
“I’m not a coward-you’re just being freaking delusional.”
“You’re the one being delusional. You’re the one who can’t even admit what you are.” Sam knows his words are hitting a nerve. He’s never seen Puck look so angry.
“If you know what’s good for you, Evans, you’ll stop while you’re ahead,” Puck says tightly.
“What are you gonna do, Puckerman?” Sam asks, evenly meeting Puck’s stare. “You gonna hit me?”
“Don’t try me, Sam.” Puck’s voice is rough, his eyes smoldering with anger. Sam drops his bag and closes the space between them, bringing his face just centimeters from Puck’s. He’s so close that he can feel Puck’s unsteady breath on his lips.
“Go ahead and hit me,” Sam says in a voice trembling with anger and hurt. “It’s not going to change anything that happened between us, and it’s not going to change what you know inside is true.”
Puck opens his mouth, but nothing comes out but another cascade of warmth over Sam’s skin. Sam gravitates toward him, and he can see the tense set of Puck’s jaw and the fear in his eyes that’s all too familiar. For a brief moment Puck looks tired and vulnerable, like he wishes Sam would help him, and Sam’s chest constricts painfully, because he’d do anything for Puck, anything. Puck has given him more than he could have ever hoped for-a true friendship, acceptance without a question, unwavering loyalty even when things get physical, and he hopes Puck knows that in return Sam would give him all that and more if he’d just give him the chance.
Puck lifts his hands, his face growing steely once more as a wall crashes between them, and he shoves Sam away from him. Sam stumbles backwards and lands in the grass, blinking up at Puck’s harsh glare.
“Stay away from me,” Puck growls. Sam swallows, his temper surging forward again. He’s not hurt, except for the quickly fading throb in his shoulder-not physically, anyway.
“That’s not going to help,” Sam replies.
“Just stay away from me! Leave me alone. You think you know what’s happening, but you don’t. You have no idea, so just stop!” Puck shouts, his voice cracking before he turns around.
“Puck!” Sam yells, but Puck’s already taken off, running across the expanse of the field and disappearing through the side gate that leads to the parking lot. Sam considers going after him, but Puck’s a faster runner, and in a second he’ll be in his car anyway.
Sam heaves out a sigh, pushing himself up and wiping the dirt from his hands. He’d expected Puck to be a lot more receptive after coming out today, but now he feels like Puck is even farther away than before. He picks up his bag and slings it over his shoulder, then starts walking to the parking lot.
It’s not until he’s in his driveway that the reality of what’s happened crashes down on him. Sam drops his hands from the steering wheel, staring blindly ahead as Puck’s words replay through his mind.
He’d expected to lose some friends today. Hell, he’d expected to lose the entire team. But he never thought he’d lose Puck. On top of that, he can’t help but be unnerved by Puck’s warning about Karofsky and Azimio.
Sam goes inside and utters a dull greeting to his mom in the kitchen before heading upstairs to his room. He shuts the door and looks at his bed, remembering Puck’s warm body against his.
Maybe he has been pushing Puck too hard. Maybe he has just been seeing what he wants to see. Sam sits at his desk and sighs, clearing a space so he can get some homework done. His thoughts keep gravitating to Puck, though, and after staring at his science textbook for three minutes, he gives up and grabs his phone, scrolling to Puck’s number.
He listens to the rings, counting four before Puck’s voicemail message comes on. Sam rests his cheek against his hand and closes his eyes.
“Hey, Puck… it’s me,” Sam begins timidly. “Um… I don’t want things to be like this. I’m sorry I called you a coward. You’re not. You’ve saved my ass before, and… maybe I don’t know what’s really happening with you. All I know is that I’d rather lose everyone on the team than not have you as a friend anymore. Call me back. I really want to talk to you.”
Sam puts his phone on the desk and looks at it expectantly. He’s disappointed when it doesn’t ring right away, and eventually he returns to his science book, but he can’t concentrate. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s pushed Puck too far.
His phone vibrates, and Sam immediately snatches it up and finds a text from Puck.
Quit calling. I need some space.
“No, no, no,” Sam mutters, hitting Puck’s number on speed dial. Puck picks up this time, and Sam cuts him off before he can say anything.
“I’m sorry,” Sam blurts out, clutching a pen tightly in his free hand. “Puck? I’m-”
“Sam, shut up,” Puck says. “Look… we really have fucked things up. I don’t even know what to think anymore. I’m confused and I’m pissed and I just need space.”
“You said that before,” Sam replies, fighting to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Remember? You said you needed a break from me? That accomplished nothing. Puck, we’re better together. You know it.”
Puck blows out a noisy sigh. “I have some shit I need to figure out, okay?”
“I said I was sorry-”
“This isn’t just something you can apologize for and have everything be fine. I need a break. I need to stop thinking about all this. You’re making me question things that I have no business questioning, and some time apart from you is what I need.”
“Puck… this isn’t a good time,” Sam says, fear creeping into his mind. “I know the team was really cool about me coming out, minus Karofsky and Azimio, but by Monday the entire school will know. I have no idea what’s gonna happen.”
“Beiste will look out for you,” Puck says. Sam can tell from his voice that he’s freaked out, too.
“I just want you.” Sam doesn’t mean for it to come out, but now the words are hanging between them, and Sam grows more nervous with every second that Puck is silent.
“Sam,” Puck says quietly. “I need some time by myself.”
Sam closes his eyes, swallowing. “How long?”
“I don’t know. Shit. I don’t know. I don’t even know what’s happening anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam says softly. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I shouldn’t have even said anything.”
Puck falls silent again, and Sam clenches his jaw, barely breathing. He inwardly berates himself for ruining his perfect friendship with Puck. It’s all he’s ever wanted and more, but everything is strained these days, and he knows Puck isn’t comfortable anymore. Sam had never meant to drive him away.
“I guess I’ll leave you alone then,” Sam says, trying to ignore the all too familiar twinge in his chest. He absently hears the house phone ringing downstairs.
“Sam,” Puck says quickly.
“Yeah?”
Puck hesitates on the other end. “I…”
“What is it?” Sam asks, his brow creasing when he hears Puck swear under his breath.
“It’s nothing. I’ll see you around, okay?” Puck hangs up before Sam can respond. Sam lowers his cell, wanting to throw it across the room and then maybe fling himself across his bed and throw a pity party, but the phone is still ringing. Sam gets up and goes downstairs, wondering why his mom hasn’t answered it, and then he spies her through the window, kneeling over her garden in the backyard. Sam considers hollering for her to answer the phone and then going back upstairs to feel sorry for himself, but he’s standing right next to it and he might as well pick up.
“Hello?” he says, expecting someone asking for his parents. The line is curiously silent for a moment. “Hello, anyone there?”
“Sam Evans?” an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and rough.
“Yeah?”
There’s another pause before the person speaks again. “Put your daddy on the line. I want to tell him his son’s a fag.”
Sam feels like someone’s just dumped ice water over him, and he slams the phone down just as his mom appears in the doorway.
“Who was that?” she asks, carrying some flowers to the kitchen sink.
“No one,” Sam says as he quickly retreats upstairs. He kicks his door shut and belatedly realizes that the call could come again, and this time his mom would answer. Sam sits on his bed and runs his hands down his face with a deep sigh, ignoring the way his hands tremble. He thinks about Karofsky and Azimio and almost regrets coming out at all. He should have known it couldn’t possibly have been this easy.
continue
Part: 2/3
Pairing: Puck/Sam
Rating/warnings: light R
Word Count: 24,489
Notes: This is set in the same 'verse as The Right Side of Reason, I'm Numbing My Feeling, Every Second's a Longer Wait, and Soon We'll Fall to Pieces. Title stolen from I'm Yours Tonight by The Academy Is....
Summary: Sam struggles to understand Puck's actions and starts making some potentially life-changing decisions, only one of which goes well.
I divided part two into two parts because it was getting really long, and I didn't want to make everyone wait even longer as I finished up the last scene. :)
back
They lose the game. Sam’s teammates look glum, or just plain angry, and Sam gets a lot of apologies about how the game went down. Some of them are mad at Puck for picking a fight and getting benched.
“Puck just did what everyone else wanted to do,” Finn sighs, pulling his jersey over his head and opening his locker. “We sure could have used him out there, though.”
“I don’t think he’s really in any condition to play a good game,” Sam says, speaking softly so only Finn will hear. Finn grabs a towel and glances at Sam.
“What’s going on with you two anyway?” he asks. “You guys used to be inseparable and now it looks like you’re on the outs.”
“Just a misunderstanding.” Sam doesn’t want to get into the details with Finn. There’s a good chance that everyone will start guessing soon enough. “Hey, can you help me get home? I can’t drive with my shoulder like this.”
“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Finn says, nodding. “I gave Kurt and Rachel rides here, so maybe Kurt can drive your car home, and I’ll follow and give Kurt a ride back. How’s the shoulder feeling, anyway?”
“Thanks, man. It’s doing all right now, I just can’t really move it much,” Sam says. “I’m gonna go find Kurt and Rachel, we’ll be out in the parking lot.”
“Okay.” Finn waves as he heads for the showers, and Sam slings his gym bag over his good shoulder as he leaves the locker room. He goes outside, keeping an eye out for Puck, but he has no idea where he is, and he figures maybe he should leave him alone until he figures out what to do.
Sam texts Kurt and Rachel to meet him by his car, and he’s putting his bag in the trunk when he hears their footsteps in the gravel. Rachel grabs him immediately, gently so as not to disturb his arm, her eyes soft.
“You went down hard,” she says. “Kurt and I were very concerned.”
“Nothing’s broken,” Sam reassures her, closing the trunk and leaning against his car. “Dislocated shoulder. I just have to take it easy for a while.”
“I’m sorry. But at least it wasn’t something more serious.” Rachel smiles at him. Sam nods, then takes a deep breath.
“There’s something I want to talk to you guys about,” Sam says. He sits down on the trunk, and Rachel pauses before climbing on beside him, resting her feet against the bumper. Kurt takes out a handkerchief from his bag and wipes a spot before sitting on Sam’s other side.
Sam takes another deep breath and internally apologizes to Puck, but Rachel and Kurt have kept his own secret, and he trusts them more than anyone else. Puck had looked so deeply wounded and frightened that Sam can’t possibly handle this all on his own.
Rachel puts a hand on his back, and Sam might have actually hugged her if she wasn’t sitting next to his bad arm. Kurt clears his throat, and Sam glances into his clear eyes.
“We’re all ears, Sam,” Kurt says. “Take your time.”
“It’s a long story,” Sam says uncertainly.
“Go ahead,” Rachel says softly. “If you’re ready, I mean. Kurt and I were kind of wondering when you’d finally open up about what’s been bothering you. You’ll feel better afterwards, I promise.”
“Okay,” Sam says, blinking up at the stars as he thinks about everything that’s happened between him and Puck, and even before they’d met. He opens his mouth and starts all the way back at Darlington, telling them about Kyle and his old friends, then about how Puck had found out about everything, and he keeps talking until he reaches the present.
“He’s hurting so badly,” Sam says quietly, picking at a thread on his jeans as he thinks about Puck. “I want to help him. I know how it feels to be that scared, and I don’t want him to feel like that. He’s been there for me through everything. The only time he hasn’t was when he was too freaked out about himself to face me, and I don’t blame him for that, not anymore.”
“I feel like I should be more surprised about Noah,” Rachel says. “But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Don’t worry, I don’t think most people would pick up on it-I’m just very perceptive about these things.”
“You figured me out pretty quickly.” Sam gives her a crooked grin, and Rachel just smiles in return.
“The only thing you can do is talk to him,” Kurt says. “Be there for him like he was for you.”
“There’s something else,” Sam says nervously, gripping his knees. “I’ve been thinking… what if I show him that it’s not something to be ashamed of?”
Kurt narrows his eyes skeptically. “Show him how, exactly?”
“What if I came out to the team?” Sam asks softly. Kurt blinks at him, his eyebrows raised in surprise, and Rachel inhales quietly beside him.
“Sam, if it feels like the right thing for you to do, then of course Kurt and I will support you,” Rachel begins slowly. “But are you doing this for you, or just for Puck? Because after everything you told us about what happened the last time someone outed you, do you feel like you’re really ready to handle the potentially negative consequences?”
“I’m freaked,” Sam admits, swallowing. “But I feel like I have a much better support system here. I have you guys, and I know Coach Beiste has my back, and even though Puck’s gone insane, I can count on him. Back at Darlington, I lost everyone. But it helps knowing that won’t happen here.”
“Karofsky and Azimio are going to give you shit, though,” Kurt says, his voice soft. Sam knows it’s true. He remembers the sign Karofsky tacked up in the locker room about Puck. He’ll definitely become their new target if he goes through with this.
“I just don’t want to hide anymore,” Sam says. “I don’t want to spend all my time being scared of what could happen. I’d rather just be honest and have control over the situation than being outed again when I least expect it.”
“Then it’s decided,” Rachel says firmly. “When are you planning your big announcement?”
“Um… I was just going to tell the team. Word will spread from them. I’m not planning a big announcement to the whole school.” Sam smiles a little. Of course Rachel would suggest something hugely dramatic.
“Soon?” Kurt asks.
Sam chews on the inside of his lip. “I guess… Monday? I don’t want to put it off and chicken out.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be here to support you,” Rachel says.
Sam sees Finn jogging up to the parking lot, and he nods quickly. “Thanks. I mean, really, thanks.”
“You guys ready to go?” Finn asks as the three of them climb off the trunk. “Who’s driving Sam’s car?”
“I will,” Kurt says, and Sam grins and tosses him the keys. Sam heads off to his car with Kurt, and as he pulls his door open he hears footsteps on the gravel. He spies Puck going to his jeep, his face clouded as he flings his gym bag inside. Sam stares for a second too long, and when Puck meets his gaze, he feels that same pang in his chest that he used to feel for himself.
The moment passes quickly, and Puck looks away as his face hardens, and then he slams the door. His jeep roars to life, and Sam gingerly slips into the passenger seat of his own car.
“Do you want to go over and talk to him?” Kurt asks in a gentle voice. “I’m sure he’d stay for you.”
“No, we already talked,” Sam replies softly, fumbling with his seat belt. “I don’t want to get his head all mixed up even more than it already is.”
“I’m surprised about Puck,” Kurt admits, starting the car. He gives Sam a sheepish grin. “To be honest, you surprised me, too, a little bit. I guess I’m just used to being the only gay kid around, and you guys are nothing like me.”
“Yeah, I don’t know the first thing about fashion or musicals or anything,” Sam says, smiling. “Puck sure doesn’t, either.”
“I’m glad, though.” Kurt meets his eyes and gives him one his rare, genuine smiles. “It’s nice to know you’re not alone. Mercedes and Rachel have all been so supportive of me, and it feels good to give back and help someone else out.”
“I’m glad I’m not alone, too. This place is kinda whack, and it sucks that people like Karofsky and Azimio are running around, but… I really like McKinley,” Sam says. “I’ve got real friends here. I’m starting to feel like I belong, you know?”
“You do belong here, Sam,” Kurt assures him. Sam lets his smile linger on his lips as Kurt starts driving. He’s still scared, and he’s sad about Puck, but he finally feels like everything isn’t hopeless because he’s not alone.
He thanks Kurt when they get to his house, and he waves goodnight to Finn and Rachel before going inside. Sam’s almost forgotten about his injury until his parents ambush him the second he walks through the door.
“Mom, I’m okay,” Sam says, looking at her worriedly. Her eyes are red and she looks like she’s been on the verge of tears for a while. “Mom?”
“I’m just worried about you,” she says, drawing him into a careful hug. Sam rests against her for a minute, listening to the way her heart beats quickly in her chest.
“You don’t have to worry. It was just an accident,” Sam says.
“Of course I have to worry,” she responds sharply. “Your father and I got a call from your coach informing us you were injured on the field. How do you think that makes us feel, after how many calls like that we got from Darlington?”
Sam shakes his head, trying to sound reassuring. “It wasn’t like that, Mom. This really was a total accident. Nothing like that is happening here, I swear.”
“You have to tell us if anyone starts bothering you again.”
“I will. I promise.” Sam swallows nervously and wonders if he should tell her about his plans to come out. One look at her tearful expression and he decides against it. If it goes well, he’ll gladly tell her everything. If it doesn’t, well, he’s sure she’ll hear about it anyway, probably from Figgins himself.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Sam says earnestly. “I am. I like it here. There are other gay students here, you know. Openly gay.”
His mom nods, and his dad puts a hand on his good shoulder and gives him a warm smile.
“As long as you’re happy, Sam,” his dad says. “We just want you to be happy.”
“And safe,” his mom says firmly.
“Thanks,” Sam replies softly. His mom hugs him again, and Sam closes his eyes and wraps his arm around her waist, her familiar perfume invading his senses. He’s never met Puck’s mom, and he wonders if she’s nearly as accepting as his own. He hopes she is. He can’t imagine not being accepted in his own home. If she’s not, Sam’s just going to have to plan lots of dinners and sleepovers here until Puck settles down a little.
“Come on, you need to get changed and get some rest,” his mom says, leading him to the stairs. With his mom’s help, Sam manages to get ready for bed one-handed, and when his mom ruffles his hair and whispers goodnight to him, Sam leans over and kisses her cheek.
“Love you,” Sam says, a little embarrassed because he only did this when he was little, but the way his mom’s expression melts makes it worth the loss of cool points.
“I love you, too, honey,” she says gently. “You do look happier than I’ve seen you in a while.”
“Things aren’t perfect, but I’ve made some really great friends here,” Sam says. His mom smiles, stroking his fingers before she gets up and heads for the hallway. Sam exhales deeply as she shuts the door. He closes his eyes, letting Puck swim to the front of his mind. It hurts to think Puck is probably alone right now, angry and scared, and the last thing Sam does before falling asleep is bolster his resolve to find some way to help him.
- - - - -
Halfway through school on Monday, Sam is so nervous he thinks he’s going to throw up. His courage from Friday has mostly dissipated, and now he’s wondering if this whole thing is even a good idea at all. He’s planning to tell the team after football practice, and unfortunately he’s already told Coach Beiste about it, so he can’t back out now. Well, he could, but he’d feel pretty lame about it.
He’d tried calling Puck over the weekend to tell him, but Puck had texted him back with an abrupt “busy,” so Sam had backed off. He wonders how Puck’s been spending his time. He wonders if he’s been with Santana.
Sam closes his locker and is startled to find Santana herself looking at him sourly, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
“Hi,” Sam gulps, his eyes darting around. He’d forgotten that Santana could totally out him right now if she wanted to.
“Hi,” Santana sneers mockingly. “How are you?”
“Good,” Sam says before he realizes that Santana isn’t actually interested in his well-being. “Um, so, what’s up?”
“Okay, look, I’m just gonna cut to the chase here. It’s Puck. You have to do something about him before I murder him.”
“I’m not following. What’s wrong with Puck?”
“Cute,” Santana says, smiling. It somehow makes her look even more terrifying. “Pretending to play dumb to protect your image. I know you’re a big flaming homo, okay? You know what’s going on with Puck.”
Sam feels his face flushing, but he doesn’t deny it. “How’s he doing?”
“He won’t get off my couch,” she snaps. “I have this awesome couch in my room-Brittany always has dibs on it, but Puck’s been wallowing all over it the entire weekend. He just comes in my room and takes root, and it makes it really awkward for when Brittany wants to come over. And Puck won’t even mess around with me anymore anyway, so why should I let him use my couch when he won’t even put out?”
Sam stares silently for a second too long, because Santana snaps her fingers in front of his face and scowls. He flinches slightly, but he’s mostly stuck on how Puck isn’t getting naked with Santana anymore.
“He’s going through a lot,” Sam says eventually, shrugging.
“I know. He’s having some stupid identity crisis that I’m sure has a lot to do with how he stares at your ass, but you have got to get him off my couch. I needs to get my mack on with other interested parties.”
“I can’t control him,” Sam says, wrinkling his nose.
“Oh, please. You have Noah Puckerman whipped,” Santana says.
Sam lets out a snort. “I really don’t. Things would be different I did.”
“Well, you’d better find a way to get him out of my weave, because if you don’t, I’ll tell everyone you’re a gigantic homo.” Santana stands back and smirks. “No offense.”
Sam leans against his locker and lowers his voice. “I’m coming out to the team today anyway.”
Santana raises her eyebrows, and for a moment the mask slides away and Sam sees genuine curiosity on her face.
“Seriously?” she asks.
Sam nods. “I would tell you my motivation behind it, but it’s a really long story that started way before I even transferred here. Do you know what’s really going on between me and Puck?”
“No,” Santana admits slowly, eying him. “Are you two, like, a thing?”
“No. Not really. I don’t know.”
Santana purses her lips, her nails drumming across her arm. “I have to hand it to you, Lady Lips. You’ve actually managed to surprise me.”
“So you can’t threaten to out me anymore because I’m outing myself,” Sam says. He gets a sudden rush as soon as the words leave his mouth. Despite how scared he is right now, he can’t imagine how good it’ll feel to not have to be scared anymore. That is, if everything goes well. God, he hopes everything goes well. He can’t deal with another Darlington incident.
“So, what, you’re just gonna go up and say, hey, I like sucking dick?” Santana asks, coming a little closer as she lowers her voice. “To the whole football team?”
Sam worries his lip and grimaces slightly. “Um… yeah. Not those exact words, but yeah. That’s the idea.”
Santana studies him silently for a long moment. “Huh. I always pegged you as someone who lacked balls.”
Sam chuckles nervously. “I’m pretty scared, not gonna lie. I… well, I was outed at my old school, by someone I used to consider a friend. No one really took it well there, especially not the football team. So I’m just hoping things will be different here.”
“Who else have you told?”
“Kurt, Rachel… you.”
Santana raises her brows. “Not Puck?”
“No.” Sam shakes his head, sighing. “I’m pretty sure he’s avoiding me.”
“So you guys are a thing,” Santana says, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“We’re not anything,” Sam insists, shoving down the now-familiar ache. He looks away and doesn’t go on, and he’s surprised when Santana backs off.
“Well, if you and Puck aren’t having hot and dirty man sex, then I can go back to ignoring your beige self,” she says. She swivels on one heel, but doesn’t walk away just yet, and she throws Sam a glance over her shoulder. Sam looks back at her, wondering why he just told her as much as he did.
“You and Brittany, are you guys…?” Sam trails off, color rising in his cheeks again.
Santana clears her throat, crossing her arms defensively. “We’re none of your business.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“Look, just concentrate on your thing and try not to piss your pants,” Santana says firmly. “As much as it pains me to lose my leverage over you… what you’re doing is actually kind of… not cool, but… not lame.”
Sam watches her walk away, and he wonders if maybe he knows more gay people here than just Kurt. He thinks about Puck and steels his nerve, hoping he’ll get a minute with him during football practice.
Puck manages to spend the entirety of practice on the other side of the field, and Sam would be pissed at the obvious avoidance if he weren’t so nauseated. He lags behind as everyone heads back to the locker room after Beiste’s whistle goes off, spending a moment with his hands on his knees as he tries to relax.
“You all right, Evans?” Beiste asks, and Sam looks up to see her skeptical expression.
“I will be,” he replies weakly. “Maybe.”
“You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. If you’ve changed your mind, there’s no shame.”
Sam bites his lip, straightening. “If I don’t do it now, I don’t know if I ever will.”
“Have you talked to your parents about this?” Beiste asks, and Sam shakes his head. “Have you talked to anyone about this? Ms. Pillsbury?”
“No, not really,” Sam mumbles. “I mean… I’ve only really told you. And Santana, but she doesn’t count.”
Beiste nods. “Is it okay if I ask why you suddenly want to come out?”
Sam pauses for a second, realizing this is the first time Beiste has ever asked his permission for anything. He pushes his hair back and looks at the grass, then lifts his gaze to meet Beiste’s piercing eyes.
“I just feel like it’s something I have to do for myself,” Sam answers finally. “So I can officially leave everything in the past, and start over. I don’t want things to be the same way they were at Darlington-”
“I would never let that happen,” Beiste says, and Sam nods.
“I know. But I also don’t want things to be like how they were even before that happened. I don’t want to hide. I have nothing to be ashamed of. And… I want everyone to know that.”
“You’re a brave kid, Evans.” Beiste’s expression softens, and Sam’s anxiety eases for a moment. He follows her as they head back to the locker room, grabbing his bag from his locker and a towel to wipe his face off, and then ducks into Beiste’s office to try to compose himself as Beiste yells at everyone to sit down.
“Evans has something to say to all of you,” Beiste announces. Sam peeks through the blinds and watches as everyone starts milling toward the benches, talking and laughing. Only one person has a huge scowl on his face, and it’s Puck. He spies Puck grabbing his phone, and a moment later, Sam’s phone buzzes in his bag. He searches for it clumsily and finds a text from Puck.
What are you doing?
Sam takes a deep breath and texts back.
I’m coming out. You’ll have my back, right?
He looks through the blinds and watches Puck’s expression change to horror as he glares at his phone. Sam strips off his dirty jersey and takes off his pads, his stomach churning once more. He shoves his dirty clothes into his bag and notices that Puck is making a beeline straight for him.
“Hold it, Puckerman,” Beiste says, blocking him with one hand. “Sit down, Evans has an announcement.”
“Just-”
“Sit.”
Sam goes to the door, feeling lightheaded. Most of the team has settled down, watching him expectantly as he stiffly walks into the room. Puck has a look of barely contained panic on his face, which doesn’t help Sam’s nerves in the least.
Sam stands before his team and takes a few more deep breaths. He’s never truly been out before, not by choice, and suddenly he can’t feel anything but dread. He knows Beiste will do her best to look out for him, but she can’t watch him all the time. Sam knows how quickly things can change.
He looks at Puck, who’s gripping the bench so tightly his knuckles are turning white. Puck’s jaw is set in a hard line, and Sam is surprised to see fear mirrored in Puck’s eyes. He wonders what Puck would have said to him if Beiste gave him a chance to talk, but it’s not like he can ask him now.
Sam clears his throat, trying not to let how scared he is come through in his voice. “So, uh… I have something pretty important to say to you guys. I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”
He moves his eyes over the boys sitting before him, hesitating on Finn, who’s looking up with the same wide, kindhearted, slightly dazed look he gives everyone. Sam reminds himself that Rachel said that Finn would back him for sure, and he hopes she’s right.
He skips over Karofsky and Azimio and clears his throat again nervously. “When I transferred here, I was worried that I’d always be the odd one out, since I heard a lot of you guys have been friends for a really long time… but you guys have made me feel really welcome. I love being a Titan, and Coach Beiste is the best coach I’ve ever had, and… since most of you guys have been really cool to me, I feel like I owe you all the truth. I want to be honest. And I hope you guys won’t see me any differently because of it.”
Puck looks angry now. Sam wants to kick him in the face because this is the one moment that he really needs Puck on his side, and instead he has no idea what’s going on in Puck’s head.
Sam forces himself to look away from him. He glances at Beiste, and she gives him a miniscule nod. Sam swallows hard, clenches his fists, and tries not to pass out from sheer terror.
“I’m gay,” Sam says finally, his eyes traveling uncertainly around the room as a surprised murmur rises from the team. “The reason I transferred here is because I had a really bad experience at my old school. I was bullied by the team there. All I wanted to do was play football and just… be a regular guy, but I couldn’t, so my parents pulled me out and moved us to Lima. I’m gay, and I’ve known it for almost my whole life, and I’ve never told anyone like this, and I just hope that everything doesn’t go to hell here, because I like McKinley and I like being here and… um… that’s about it.”
Sam’s face feels hot and he knows he’s blushing hard, which he’s suddenly really self-conscious about. Everyone is avoiding his gaze, looking at each other and mumblings things instead, and Sam exhales anxiously and wishes he were in his room hiding underneath his bed. Anywhere but here. Not even Puck is looking at him.
“Does anyone have anything to say?” Beiste asks, her voice cutting through the noise. The room falls silent. Sam looks around desperately. At least no one is throwing things. Most people look dubious instead of hateful-though Sam can’t even bring himself to look at Karofsky and Azimio; no doubt they’re staring at him like he’s a mutant.
Puck finally meets his eyes. Sam bites the inside of his mouth, watching Puck’s throat bob as he swallows. He can’t place the expression on Puck’s face.
He hears a rustle and Sam’s eyes snap to Finn as he stands suddenly. Finn looks a little shocked, his fingers jittery down by his sides, but he looks firmly at the team, then turns to look at Sam.
“You’re so not what I imagined a gay guy would be like,” Finn says finally, his words accompanied by a nervous chuckle. “I guess I always pictured them like Kurt.”
“We’re just people,” Sam says, shrugging. “I’m the same guy you’ve all played football with before.”
“I know. We’ve actually started winning games now, with Coach Beiste, and you, and…” Finn scratches his neck, his gaze sheepish. “Well, I for one don’t want to see you go anywhere. You’re a good player. And you’re a good friend.”
“Thanks, Finn,” Sam says softly, barely daring to hope as he sees several heads nod in agreement.
“I trust that you all will be mature about this,” Beiste says. “And anyone who can’t be won’t be playing football anymore. Consider this your only warning. Now get cleaned up and get out of here.”
Sam exhales shakily as the room quickly starts buzzing with chatter. Some of the guys head straight for the shower, but most of them circle around Finn, and after a moment of quick discussion, they approach Sam. Sam glances around for Beiste, but she’s in her office.
“So, Sam, since I’m gonna be QB for our next game,” Finn begins, looking at him seriously. “I was kinda wondering if a bunch of us could get together with you and work out our plan of attack. I’ve been QB for a while, but I’ve learned more this year about football than any other year, and I know I really need to have a solid plan if we’re going to win this.”
Sam just looks at him for a long moment, silence stretching out before him. Finn quirks his head, and Sam notices that the rest of the guys are looking at him curiously, too.
“Uh,” Sam says, his mind blanking.
“Are you okay?” Finn asks uncertainly.
“I just… I mean, yeah, sure, we can get together if you want.” Sam nods.
“Cool.” Finn grins, and the team relaxes, and Sam gets a few friendly slaps on the shoulder as the rest of them go to their lockers or to the showers.
“Finn,” Sam blurts out before Finn can turn around. Finn gives him a questioning glance, and Sam hesitates, his fingers curling reflexively.
“Is that it?” Sam asks, not quite sure how to word his question. “You’re… you’re all okay with me, just like that?”
Finn wrinkles his brow slightly and nods. “I mean… yeah. It’s kinda weird, I guess, but you’re still the same guy. Kurt’s taught me a lot about what it means to be a man, and, well, a real man wouldn’t freak out about this.”
“Seriously?” Sam doesn’t know why he’s pressing the subject so hard. He should just shut up and gratefully move on, but he wants to be sure. The whole point of this was so he didn’t have to be afraid anymore, and he needs to be certain or else he’ll second-guess every word that comes out of his teammates’ mouths.
“Look, I don’t know exactly what happened at your old school, and you don’t need to tell me,” Finn continues. “But we’re teammates. And we’re friends. And you being gay isn’t going to stop me from being your friend. The team likes you, Sam. This isn’t going to make them suddenly turn on you.”
Sam lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Finn quirks his lips into another grin, that little half-smile that makes everyone remember just why they like Finn so much, and then he gives Sam’s shoulder a nudge.
“You better get that shoulder better or else I’m keeping your QB spot,” Finn says, and Sam smiles at him, his eyes warm as the knot in his stomach loosens.
“You wish,” Sam says, chuckling as Finn heads for the showers. Sam glances at Beiste’s office and catches her gaze through the window, her expression soft as she gives Sam a nod.
Sam is so relieved that he’s not even angry that Puck seems to have bailed early. He needs to see him, though, so he texts Puck to meet him out by the bleachers.
Sam showers with the rest of the stragglers. It’s almost surreal the way he feels so changed inside, yet everyone is treating him the same as before. He thinks about how happy his mom will be when he goes home and tells her what he’s finally found the courage to do. He figures she’ll be mad first, but that’s only because she worries way too much.
It’s warm outside, and Sam waits alone on the bleachers, the sun tickling the back of his neck. Puck hadn’t texted him back, and Sam thinks maybe he’s not even going to show, but after he fiddles with his phone for ten minutes, he sees Puck’s tiny figure appear on the other side of the field. Sam smiles as Puck clambers up the bleachers, but it falters on his lips when he sees the dark look on Puck’s face.
Puck throws his bag down beside Sam, the metal bleachers vibrating with the impact, and then rounds on Sam with a near snarl.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Puck asks between clenched teeth. Sam’s natural instinct is to meet Puck’s anger with some of his own, but he mostly just feels confused.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about. What were you thinking telling everyone you’re gay?”
Sam gives him a miffed look. “I was thinking that it was high time I stopped being afraid, and I’m glad I did. The team is cool with it. Coach Beiste is being awesome about it.”
“You just painted a target on your back!” Puck yells. “Do you seriously think Karofsky and Azimio are going to leave you alone about this? They’re gonna make your life hell, Sam. They don’t need an excuse to be assholes to anybody, but you sure as hell gave them one anyway.”
Sam furrows his brow, his mood dampened. “That’s not fair, okay? You can’t tell me that I should’ve just stayed in the closet because of them.”
“You should’ve!”
“That’s bullshit, Puck! This was a really big deal for me. I’ve been holding on to everything that happened at Darlington for so long, and I’m finally letting it go and moving on and-I don’t need you to fucking yell at me about what a huge mistake I just made. I’m not sorry.”
“You should be,” Puck growls. “You will be when you can’t get those two dickheads off your back.”
“I can’t believe you,” Sam says, stung. “Why would you say something that shitty to me?”
“It’s the truth. I’m not going to sugarcoat things for you.” Puck glares at him, and Sam studies his face, taking in the tightness around Puck’s eyes and mouth, the concern creasing his brow.
“You’re worried about me,” Sam says.
Puck gives him a harsh scowl and sits down beside him. “Look, what you did might have been a big thing for you, and maybe you have all this freaking gay pride or whatever, but I’m just being real with you. You’d better watch your back.”
“I don’t need the lecture. I’ve already lived through it and I came out okay.” Sam tightens his hands on his knees, Puck’s words planting a tiny seed of fear in his mind. “I’m not going to hide who I am, because there’s nothing wrong with me.”
Puck crosses his arms and glares at the field. Sam hesitates for a moment before he speaks again.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, either,” Sam says, then flinches slightly when Puck shoots up and rounds on him again.
“I knew it,” Puck says, jabbing a finger in Sam’s face. “I knew it, I knew you didn’t just do this for yourself. You’re trying to send me a message. You’re so transparent.”
“Well, maybe I was trying to tell you something,” Sam says defensively. “What’s wrong with that? It’s something you need to hear.”
“I don’t need to hear anything.”
“I’m worried about you, Puck.” Sam looks at him earnestly as Puck sits back down. “You really need to talk to someone about this. Obviously I’d like for it to be me, but if you don’t want to, there are lots of other people. There are hotlines you can call-you can be totally anonymous.”
“Okay, slow down,” Puck says, waving him off. “Stop. I have something to tell you.”
“Yeah?” Sam watches Puck’s throat bob as he swallows. Puck takes a soft breath, refusing to meet Sam’s eyes as he begins to speak.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about everything that’s happened,” Puck says slowly. “Kissing you, and fooling around, and everything we said to each other on Friday… I’ve been thinking really hard and really seriously about it.”
“Okay. I’m listening,” Sam says as Puck pauses.
“I care about you. A lot.” Puck finally looks at him, his eyes grim. “After everything that went down last year with Finn and Quinn, I haven’t had a real friend for a long time. Not until you transferred here. We’re buddies, okay? Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t,” Sam says uncertainly. “Puck, what are you trying to say? Just tell me.”
Puck blows out a breath and clears his throat. “I’ve thought about this. About me. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but… I’m not bisexual.”
Sam fights the urge to roll his eyes, shaking his head quickly, but Puck puts up a hand before Sam can speak.
“Listen to me,” Puck insists. “I’m not. I like girls. I’ve liked girls my entire life. I always will.”
“I know you will, that’s why it’s called being bi.”
“No. I’m straight. I don’t like guys, okay?” Puck’s eyes are troubled as he talks. “I’ve never thought about being with a guy. It’s just not in me.”
“You’ve thought about being with me, though,” Sam says, his voice soft. “You have. I know you have.”
“What we did… it’s not going to happen again, Sam.”
Sam shakes his head again, exhaling noisily. “You’re lying to yourself. You told me on Friday when we were in the locker room that you couldn’t be who I wanted you to be, but the only reason you can’t is because you’re not letting yourself.”
Puck stays silent, chewing on his lip and staring ahead with hard eyes. Sam aches to touch him, but he keeps his hands on his knees, giving Puck space.
“What would your family say if they knew?” Sam asks gently.
“If they knew what?” Puck asks with a scowl.
“Just humor me.” Sam tries to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
“My mom would probably throw me out,” Puck says dully. “I don’t know. My family isn’t like the fucking Cleavers like yours.”
“My family isn’t perfect either. My mom’s been on anxiety medicine ever since she got the call that I’d been taken to the hospital because my supposed best friend gave me a concussion.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Puck snaps. “I already told you how I feel. I’m straight. What we did was just me being horny.”
“That’s such a lie,” Sam says. “Look. I’m gay and I’m out. The world didn’t explode. If you admit the truth to yourself, the sun is still going to come up tomorrow. And I promise I’ll support you no matter what happens.”
“I have nothing to admit. I made a mistake with you-that’s it. Sure, it felt nice, but…” Puck seems to struggle for a moment, looking away. “It was a one-time thing. A mistake. I’ve never been attracted to a guy before. I like girls. Call me if you grow a vagina.”
Sam clenches his jaw, standing suddenly as he grabs his bag and roughly pushes past Puck to get to the aisle. He hears Puck clambering behind him, but refuses to turn around.
“Hey, wait-Sam!”
Sam jumps off the last two steps and lands on the field, then jerks away when he feels Puck’s hand on his shoulder. He turns around angrily, and Puck stops short, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Call me if you grow a vagina? Seriously?” Sam spits out.
“It was a freaking joke, man. Relax.”
“This isn’t a joke to me!”
“Okay,” Puck says, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry.”
“I can’t believe I fell for such a jerk,” Sam mutters. “Do you realize the only thing keeping us apart is the fact that you can’t handle that you like someone with a dick?”
“It’s a one-time thing, I told you,” Puck insists. “It’s never gonna happen again. I’m never gonna be into a dude again.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know who you’ll fall for next. You keep telling yourself that you only like girls, except you fell for me. Why the hell are you ignoring that?”
“It was a mistake, and now you’re just pissed because I don’t want you like that!”
“It’s gonna happen again, Puck,” Sam says heatedly. “It doesn’t matter what you do with me. Sooner or later you’re gonna meet someone else-some other guy-and it’s gonna happen again. Then what are you gonna do?”
“It won’t,” Puck says between clenched teeth. “I don’t swing that way.”
“Except for with me.” Sam can’t help the bitterness that seeps into his words.
“Goddammit, Sam,” Puck says roughly. “Would you just let it go? I wish it never happened!”
“I do, too!” Sam yells. “We ruined our friendship over something that didn’t even mean anything to you.”
A muscle jumps in Puck’s jaw as he glares at Sam, and Sam regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth, but he stubbornly clenches his fists and doesn’t take them back.
“Maybe we shouldn’t be friends then,” Puck says snidely.
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Sam shoots back. “I don’t want to be friends with a coward like you anyway.”
“I’m not a coward-you’re just being freaking delusional.”
“You’re the one being delusional. You’re the one who can’t even admit what you are.” Sam knows his words are hitting a nerve. He’s never seen Puck look so angry.
“If you know what’s good for you, Evans, you’ll stop while you’re ahead,” Puck says tightly.
“What are you gonna do, Puckerman?” Sam asks, evenly meeting Puck’s stare. “You gonna hit me?”
“Don’t try me, Sam.” Puck’s voice is rough, his eyes smoldering with anger. Sam drops his bag and closes the space between them, bringing his face just centimeters from Puck’s. He’s so close that he can feel Puck’s unsteady breath on his lips.
“Go ahead and hit me,” Sam says in a voice trembling with anger and hurt. “It’s not going to change anything that happened between us, and it’s not going to change what you know inside is true.”
Puck opens his mouth, but nothing comes out but another cascade of warmth over Sam’s skin. Sam gravitates toward him, and he can see the tense set of Puck’s jaw and the fear in his eyes that’s all too familiar. For a brief moment Puck looks tired and vulnerable, like he wishes Sam would help him, and Sam’s chest constricts painfully, because he’d do anything for Puck, anything. Puck has given him more than he could have ever hoped for-a true friendship, acceptance without a question, unwavering loyalty even when things get physical, and he hopes Puck knows that in return Sam would give him all that and more if he’d just give him the chance.
Puck lifts his hands, his face growing steely once more as a wall crashes between them, and he shoves Sam away from him. Sam stumbles backwards and lands in the grass, blinking up at Puck’s harsh glare.
“Stay away from me,” Puck growls. Sam swallows, his temper surging forward again. He’s not hurt, except for the quickly fading throb in his shoulder-not physically, anyway.
“That’s not going to help,” Sam replies.
“Just stay away from me! Leave me alone. You think you know what’s happening, but you don’t. You have no idea, so just stop!” Puck shouts, his voice cracking before he turns around.
“Puck!” Sam yells, but Puck’s already taken off, running across the expanse of the field and disappearing through the side gate that leads to the parking lot. Sam considers going after him, but Puck’s a faster runner, and in a second he’ll be in his car anyway.
Sam heaves out a sigh, pushing himself up and wiping the dirt from his hands. He’d expected Puck to be a lot more receptive after coming out today, but now he feels like Puck is even farther away than before. He picks up his bag and slings it over his shoulder, then starts walking to the parking lot.
It’s not until he’s in his driveway that the reality of what’s happened crashes down on him. Sam drops his hands from the steering wheel, staring blindly ahead as Puck’s words replay through his mind.
He’d expected to lose some friends today. Hell, he’d expected to lose the entire team. But he never thought he’d lose Puck. On top of that, he can’t help but be unnerved by Puck’s warning about Karofsky and Azimio.
Sam goes inside and utters a dull greeting to his mom in the kitchen before heading upstairs to his room. He shuts the door and looks at his bed, remembering Puck’s warm body against his.
Maybe he has been pushing Puck too hard. Maybe he has just been seeing what he wants to see. Sam sits at his desk and sighs, clearing a space so he can get some homework done. His thoughts keep gravitating to Puck, though, and after staring at his science textbook for three minutes, he gives up and grabs his phone, scrolling to Puck’s number.
He listens to the rings, counting four before Puck’s voicemail message comes on. Sam rests his cheek against his hand and closes his eyes.
“Hey, Puck… it’s me,” Sam begins timidly. “Um… I don’t want things to be like this. I’m sorry I called you a coward. You’re not. You’ve saved my ass before, and… maybe I don’t know what’s really happening with you. All I know is that I’d rather lose everyone on the team than not have you as a friend anymore. Call me back. I really want to talk to you.”
Sam puts his phone on the desk and looks at it expectantly. He’s disappointed when it doesn’t ring right away, and eventually he returns to his science book, but he can’t concentrate. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s pushed Puck too far.
His phone vibrates, and Sam immediately snatches it up and finds a text from Puck.
Quit calling. I need some space.
“No, no, no,” Sam mutters, hitting Puck’s number on speed dial. Puck picks up this time, and Sam cuts him off before he can say anything.
“I’m sorry,” Sam blurts out, clutching a pen tightly in his free hand. “Puck? I’m-”
“Sam, shut up,” Puck says. “Look… we really have fucked things up. I don’t even know what to think anymore. I’m confused and I’m pissed and I just need space.”
“You said that before,” Sam replies, fighting to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Remember? You said you needed a break from me? That accomplished nothing. Puck, we’re better together. You know it.”
Puck blows out a noisy sigh. “I have some shit I need to figure out, okay?”
“I said I was sorry-”
“This isn’t just something you can apologize for and have everything be fine. I need a break. I need to stop thinking about all this. You’re making me question things that I have no business questioning, and some time apart from you is what I need.”
“Puck… this isn’t a good time,” Sam says, fear creeping into his mind. “I know the team was really cool about me coming out, minus Karofsky and Azimio, but by Monday the entire school will know. I have no idea what’s gonna happen.”
“Beiste will look out for you,” Puck says. Sam can tell from his voice that he’s freaked out, too.
“I just want you.” Sam doesn’t mean for it to come out, but now the words are hanging between them, and Sam grows more nervous with every second that Puck is silent.
“Sam,” Puck says quietly. “I need some time by myself.”
Sam closes his eyes, swallowing. “How long?”
“I don’t know. Shit. I don’t know. I don’t even know what’s happening anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam says softly. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I shouldn’t have even said anything.”
Puck falls silent again, and Sam clenches his jaw, barely breathing. He inwardly berates himself for ruining his perfect friendship with Puck. It’s all he’s ever wanted and more, but everything is strained these days, and he knows Puck isn’t comfortable anymore. Sam had never meant to drive him away.
“I guess I’ll leave you alone then,” Sam says, trying to ignore the all too familiar twinge in his chest. He absently hears the house phone ringing downstairs.
“Sam,” Puck says quickly.
“Yeah?”
Puck hesitates on the other end. “I…”
“What is it?” Sam asks, his brow creasing when he hears Puck swear under his breath.
“It’s nothing. I’ll see you around, okay?” Puck hangs up before Sam can respond. Sam lowers his cell, wanting to throw it across the room and then maybe fling himself across his bed and throw a pity party, but the phone is still ringing. Sam gets up and goes downstairs, wondering why his mom hasn’t answered it, and then he spies her through the window, kneeling over her garden in the backyard. Sam considers hollering for her to answer the phone and then going back upstairs to feel sorry for himself, but he’s standing right next to it and he might as well pick up.
“Hello?” he says, expecting someone asking for his parents. The line is curiously silent for a moment. “Hello, anyone there?”
“Sam Evans?” an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and rough.
“Yeah?”
There’s another pause before the person speaks again. “Put your daddy on the line. I want to tell him his son’s a fag.”
Sam feels like someone’s just dumped ice water over him, and he slams the phone down just as his mom appears in the doorway.
“Who was that?” she asks, carrying some flowers to the kitchen sink.
“No one,” Sam says as he quickly retreats upstairs. He kicks his door shut and belatedly realizes that the call could come again, and this time his mom would answer. Sam sits on his bed and runs his hands down his face with a deep sigh, ignoring the way his hands tremble. He thinks about Karofsky and Azimio and almost regrets coming out at all. He should have known it couldn’t possibly have been this easy.
continue