My Good Intentions..., Puck/Sam, R, 3/3
Title: My Good Intentions Can Leave the Harshest Scars You've Ever Seen
Part: 3/3
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.
back
Sam wants to pick up the phone and tell Puck that he’s getting prank calls (even though prank calls are supposed to be funny, and these are anything but), but he can’t. Sam goes to his desk and tries to focus on his textbook again. He can’t concentrate and the words look like they’re melting down the page. He considers calling Kurt, but he feels guilty about going to him every time he needs to vent. Rachel is next on his list, but as awesome of a friend as she is, Sam wants to talk someone who really knows what he’s going through.
He closes his textbook and his hand brushes against a messy stack of papers-mostly old homework and tests that he needs to revise and hand back in, but he spots the corner of a familiar pink napkin. He pulls it out and looks at the number scrawled across it, right underneath the Eight Ball logo embossed on the thin material.
He’s barely given Joshua a second thought since they met weeks ago. Sam blushes a little as he remembers how he’d gotten totally drunk and practically groped Puck before they’d gone home, but he pushes the thought away and focuses on Joshua. He’d been nice enough, even though he’d stormed off when Sam said he wouldn’t go home with him. However, the interest had been there, and at least Sam doesn’t have to guess about Joshua’s sexuality. He knows he’s gay, and he knows he’s attracted to him.
Joshua is older than him, and Sam wonders if maybe Joshua could give him some advice, or at least assure him that coming out hadn’t been the worst decision of Sam’s entire life. Sam’s fingers hesitate over the keypad of his phone, but after a moment he dials the number.
Joshua answers on the second ring, and Sam greets him nervously.
“Hey, Joshua, it’s, um… this is Sam. We met at Eight Ball a couple weeks ago. We, um, just danced and stuff, and you gave me your number and told me to call if I was ever free.”
“Sam… oh, right, Sam! Yeah, I remember you.” Joshua sounds pleased, and Sam relaxes a little. “What’s up?”
“I, uh… are you busy tonight?” Sam asks.
“Are you asking me out?” Joshua replies teasingly, and Sam blushes again.
“Um, I was just wondering,” Sam stammers. “I kind of… well, I don’t really know that many gay people, so when I need to talk or have questions… it’s just hard, I guess.”
Joshua pauses before speaking again. “Do you want to come over? I don’t have plans and you’d be more than welcome.”
“Yeah. I’d like that.” Sam grabs a pen and jots down Joshua’s address. “I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”
“See you, Sam.”
Sam grabs his jacket and keys, contemplating telling his mom where he’s going, but he figures she’ll freak out. She’ll also probably want to know where he met Joshua in the first place, and then he’d have to make something up because there’s no way he’s sharing his fake I.D. with her, so he breezes past her and says he’s hanging out with Kurt and Rachel and that he’ll be home pretty late so she won’t wait up.
Twenty minutes later he’s knocking on Joshua’s apartment door, nervous and a little chilly in the cool night air. He wonders if he should have told at least one person where he’s really going, but then the door swings open and his fears mostly dissipate when Joshua smiles at him.
“Hey, come in,” Joshua says, immediately putting a hand on Sam’s arm and nudging him inside. Sam mutters a quick thank you and looks around as Joshua shuts the door. The apartment is small, but nice. The walls are a creamy white and there are modern art paintings hanging on them that to Sam look like scribbles and blobs.
“You want something to drink?” Joshua asks, coming up behind him. Sam is a little surprised when Joshua rests his hands on Sam’s hips, but he remembers how they were all over each other at Eight Ball, so it’s not that weird when he thinks about it.
“I’ll mix us some Jack and Cokes, okay?” Joshua says before Sam can respond. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”
“Um, okay,” Sam says. Joshua disappears into the kitchen, and Sam wanders to the couch. He sits down and glances at a picture on the little take by the arm of the couch. It’s Joshua and another woman, and Sam is still looking at it when Joshua returns.
“Who’s that?” Sam asks as he accepts his drink. Joshua sits down beside him, setting a bottle of Jack and a few cans of Coke on the coffee table.
“That’s my ex-wife,” he replies.
“You were married?”
“For two years, yeah. I knew I was gay the whole time, I just wasn’t ready to admit it.” Joshua stirs his ice and shrugs. “Thought I could ignore it and it would go away.”
Sam pushes down his sudden unhappiness and takes a swig of his drink. He wonders if Puck has convinced himself of the same thing. Sam can’t imagine doing that to himself, knowing it would make him miserable.
“You all right?” Joshua asks gently, and Sam nods, swallowing quicker and trying not to think about how many calories he’s knocking back. It tastes good, though, and it helps him relax. He eyes the bottle on the table, and Joshua takes Sam’s glass and refills it.
“You sounded a little upset on the phone,” Joshua says, handing the glass back.
Sam sighs slowly. “I think I did something really stupid.”
“Like?”
“I, um… I came out to all my friends. And there are these two guys who are total dicks about this kind of thing, and… well, my other friend told me that I should’ve kept my mouth shut because I basically just painted a target on my back.” Sam looks at Joshua, who’s gazing back intently. “And also, I think one of my best friends is bi and he won’t admit it and we’ve been fighting about it forever.”
“Look, Sam, you should do what you have to do to keep yourself safe,” Joshua says.
“So you think I shouldn’t have come out either,” Sam says, hiding his bitterness with another long gulp.
“No, I just think you should be safe. You can’t joke around with this kind of stuff.”
“I know,” Sam says quietly. “Trust me, I know.”
Joshua reaches out and puts a hand on Sam’s knee, giving it a warm squeeze. “Well, I’m glad you called. You were one of my better dance partners at Eight Ball.”
“I’m a terrible dancer,” Sam says, one corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “I haven’t even been back since. I don’t know, I just feel weird going by myself.”
“You came with a friend last time… guy with the mohawk, right?”
“Yeah, that’s Puck.” Sam swallows down his second glass and reaches for the bottle again. “My best friend. I have a serious crush on him. I think. It feels like we’ve been fighting for forever, though.”
“Fighting over what?” Joshua pours more Coke for Sam, letting their hands brush as he empties the can.
“We kissed.” Sam sips his drink slower now, his body and tongue loosening. “Well, we kinda did more than that. But now he keeps telling me he’s straight, even though I know he wants this. Or, I thought I knew. I think I’ve been pushing him too hard to admit the truth, and now he seems pretty mad at me. But he’s also scared.”
“I can tell just from the way you’re talking about him that you really care about this guy,” Joshua says. Sam looks down and nods, blearily wiping his face with fingers that are cold from holding his drink. Joshua scoots closer and puts a hand on Sam’s back, rubbing it gently.
“I don’t know what to do,” Sam says, frustrated. “I apologized, but he said he needs space anyway. I just want him with me. I know that’s selfish, but he’s my friend-the best friend I’ve ever had-and I miss him.”
“It sounds like you’re in love with him.”
Sam almost drops his glass. He makes a spluttering sound, shakes his head, and quickly chugs down the rest of his drink.
“No,” Sam says decidedly, putting his empty glass on the table, then unwittingly leaning against Joshua as the room sways a little. His chest feels heavy and his fingers curl into loose fists on his knees. He shivers as Joshua rests a hand at the nape of his neck, his fingers gently scratching through his hair.
“You miss him, though,” Joshua says, and Sam sighs, gravitating toward his touch.
“Yeah, I do,” Sam whispers, feeling Joshua’s fingers tilting his chin. Sam’s eyes slide shut as Joshua kisses him, his mouth cold from the ice in his drink, but it warms up immediately as their lips move against each other.
Sam makes a soft noise and breaks off the kiss, keeping his eyes closed and staying close to Joshua. Joshua has his arm around Sam’s neck, cradling him gently as Sam tries to pull himself together.
“It’s okay, Sam,” Joshua says. “You came here because you were lonely, right?”
“I think so, yeah,” Sam breathes, his brow furrowing slightly at how sluggishly his mind is working.
“I know what it feels like to want someone you can’t have,” Joshua continues, his thumb rubbing gently along Sam’s cheek.
“It sucks.” Sam looks sadly at Joshua, who nods.
“Just close your eyes.” Joshua sweeps his hand over Sam’s face, and Sam obeys. “Pretend I’m someone else. Pretend I’m him.”
Sam lets Joshua kiss him again, slowly at first, then it deepens into something more as Joshua puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders, sliding them down his arms and coming to rest on his hips. He presses Sam against the back of the couch, and Sam leans back and hesitantly parts his lips when Joshua’s tongue prods him.
Joshua snakes a hand beneath Sam’s shirt, and Sam squirms as he feels the foreign sensation of fingers roaming across his stomach. It tickles a little, and it feels good, but it’s not Puck. His face grows hot as Joshua’s hand goes higher, and he exhales shakily as his fingers graze over his nipples.
Sam shifts, a wave of dizziness passing through him from both the alcohol and Joshua’s touch, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s on his back with Joshua nearly on top of him. They’re both still clothed, but Joshua’s fingers are insistently teasing his nipples, and Sam’s growing hard quickly.
“Wait,” Sam half moans, pushing his bangs back as he covers his eyes. The lights are glaring down at him, fueling his vertigo. Joshua eases back, then pulls Sam up and puts his arms around him. Sam leans forward as Joshua plants a kiss on his lips.
“Come on, let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” Joshua says, standing and tugging Sam along with him. Sam puts an arm around Joshua’s waist for balance, allowing him to lead him down the short hallway to his bedroom. Sam blinks and tries to clear his head as they enter the dim room, and a part of him tenses because he’s unsure about what’s coming.
Joshua gives him a reassuring smile and brings him to the bed. Sam sits down and sleepily closes his eyes as Joshua leans down, their lips pressing together. They kiss for a long moment as Joshua slowly climbs beside him, and Sam lies down, his hand resting on Joshua’s shoulder as they break apart. Sam licks his lips and gazes up at Joshua, who’s busy fingering the buttons on Sam’s shirt. Joshua looks at him and holds his gaze as he gradually unfastens the first button.
Sam lies back, feeling warm and wobbly from alcohol, or maybe from how Joshua’s got the rest of his shirt open and is dragging his lips down his chest. He remembers Joshua telling him to just pretend he’s Puck, and Sam tries, but it’s not the same. When Joshua unzips his jeans and cups a hand around Sam’s erection, it’s not even remotely the same as the electricity he felt when Puck touched him. Joshua jacks him gently, and Sam feels himself react, his breath quickening and his muscles tightening, but his head keeps swimming and half the time he feels like he’s about to fall off the bed.
He suddenly has an intense desire to be with Puck, so strong that he lets out an audible whimper, his fingers scratching at the sheets in agitation. He’s panting now, his hips bucking lightly against Joshua’s hand, and he groans when Joshua stops to pull his jeans and boxers down the rest of the way. Sam hears them drop onto the floor, his keys clinking in his pocket, and then Joshua is on him again, running his warm hands up Sam’s arms and kissing him with a smile.
“You have an amazing body,” Joshua murmurs against his lips. He pulls back and nudges Sam’s legs open wider. Sam closes his eyes, his mind wandering back to Puck and how he could almost accept that they’ll never date if Puck would just be his friend again. The thought that their friendship could be over makes his eyes burn, and he doesn’t realize he’s on the verge of breaking down until Joshua says his name.
“Is this okay?” Joshua asks, and Sam notices for the first time that Joshua is now naked and he has on a condom. Sam should feel excited or at least turned on, but he just feels numb.
“I feel so alone,” Sam says, his voice cracking as his words slur together. He shivers as Joshua lightly strokes the inside of his thigh.
“You’re not alone tonight,” Joshua says. Sam groans when he suddenly feels Joshua’s moist fingers circling him, slowly pressing inside. Sam’s eyes squeeze shut at the foreign burning sensation, and at the beginning it hurts enough to cut through his intoxicated haze and almost make him tell Joshua to stop, but he grits his teeth and tries to find comfort in Joshua’s touch. He’s been nice to him, and Sam doesn’t want to seem ungrateful.
Everything runs together after a while, and something in the back of Sam’s mind is telling him that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. He clenches his legs around Joshua, his lips parted as quiet sounds come out, his back arching at the tightness and fullness of how Joshua feels inside him, and it just doesn’t feel right, not when he’s falling down drunk, and especially not when Puck isn’t here.
Sam growls deep in his throat as he comes right after Joshua, their bodies tangled together. Joshua pulls out quickly, catching his breath as Sam relaxes his legs, and Sam’s hands tremble lightly as Joshua lies down beside him, bringing the covers up.
Joshua doesn’t say anything; he just drapes an arm over Sam’s waist, and when Sam glances over, Joshua’s eyes are closed. Sam closes his eyes as well, because swinging his gaze around too much makes him nauseous. The bed is warm and comfortable, though, and Sam feels sleep tugging him under.
- - - - -
Sam wakes up with a sour taste in his mouth and a throbbing headache. He’s confused for a moment as he sits up and looks at Joshua’s snoring form beside him, but then he feels a twinge in his body, and Sam groans as he brings his knees up and rubs his eyes.
He tries to be careful as he slips out of bed, but his hangover is too painful to allow for sneakiness, and he ends up waking Joshua. Sam finds his shirt and slips it on while Joshua rustles behind him.
“Leaving?” Joshua asks simply, and Sam is glad he has his back to him, because he doesn’t want Joshua to see the regret all over his face.
“Yeah, I’ve gotta get home,” Sam says softly. He finishes buttoning his shirt and turns around when Joshua puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I hope things work out between you and your friend,” Joshua says. “I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah, probably,” Sam replies, swallowing around the lie. He gets out of bed and grabs the rest of his clothes, quickly dressing. There’s a tight, aching ball of tension inside him, and Sam barely allows himself to breathe until he’s outside, climbing into his car.
He drags his hands down his face and takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, but he’s so angry at himself that he feels his eyes burning in shame. He feels filthy as he starts his car and drives home, his knuckles white around the steering wheel.
He’s pulling into his neighborhood when he finally admits to himself that he just lost his virginity to some guy he met at a club, while too drunk to even remember the details. He doesn’t even know Joshua’s last name. Sam gulps down the lump rising in his throat, knitting his brows together as he drives past the darkened, silent houses.
Puck is by his driveway. Or at least his jeep is. Sam squints as he parks, turning off his car and opening the door. There’s stuff on the surface of Puck’s jeep, and Sam blinks in the darkness and thinks it looks a lot like the jeep has been egged.
“Puck?” Sam calls out in a thin voice. Puck opens his door and all but tumbles out, and Sam wipes his face discreetly, hoping his eyes aren’t too red. His head throbs as Puck comes up to him, his hands jammed in his pockets and his eyes bright beneath the moonlight.
“Sam,” Puck says softly, and when Sam finally gets a clear view of his face, he realizes Puck looks like he’s barely holding it together.
“What happened to your car?” Sam asks, then falls silent when Puck closes the space between them and puts his hands on Sam’s cheeks, cupping his face. Sam blinks in surprise, a soft breath escaping his lips as Puck’s rough thumbs glide across his skin. Sam thinks Puck is going to kiss him, but Puck’s face crumbles suddenly, and then Puck puts his arms around Sam, enveloping him tightly as he buries his face in the crook of Sam’s neck. Sam can feel Puck trembling against him, his breath hot and wet against his skin, and it’s the closest he’s ever seen Puck come to really, actually crying.
“Puck, what happened?” Sam wants to keep this about Puck, even though now he’s clinging back just as hard, relieved that it’s Puck and not anyone else. For a moment he forgets his own fears and just focuses on Puck. “Dude, you’re scaring me. Talk to me, Puck.”
“Sorry,” Puck says, his words muffled. He raises his head, taking a deep breath as he scrubs at his eyes.
“Just tell me what’s wrong,” Sam says, gently grasping Puck’s arm.
“Shit,” Puck whispers, covering his face with one hand. “Shit, shit, shit. Fuck.”
“Talk to me,” Sam repeats, pulling Puck’s hand down and forcing him to look at him. Puck stares back, his eyes rimmed in red and wide with fear.
“Sam,” Puck says, his voice barely audible. “I… fuck, I don’t… I don’t know what to do. I’m screwed, man. I’m screwed. I’m completely fucking fucked.”
Sam twines their fingers together when he feels Puck touch his hand. “You’re not screwed, okay? Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Sam, I think…” Puck swallows hard, squeezing Sam’s hand. His mouth trembles, breathing unsteadily as Sam nods, trying to get Puck to speak.
“You think what?” Sam asks softly. Puck’s eyes glisten as he looks away, his nose tinged red as he sniffs.
“I think… Sam, I might be… bisexual,” Puck says, his voice cracking on the last word. “I think I’m bi. I don’t know. I just… I don’t think I’m straight.”
Sam closes his eyes briefly, letting out a tiny sigh of relief, and then Puck is burrowing into him again, and Sam hugs him firmly, leaning against his car. Puck makes a bunch of muffled sounds against his shoulder as Sam holds him, feeling every ripple of emotion running through Puck.
“I’m screwed,” Puck groans around a jagged breath.
“No, you’re not.” Sam speaks firmly and clearly even though he wants to cry himself. “I promise you’re not screwed.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Puck asks suddenly, pulling back and looking at Sam with wild eyes.
“Nothing,” Sam says, but Puck shakes his head.
“I can’t do nothing! I gotta… I don’t know, but I just have to do something,” Puck says desperately. “You gotta tell me what to do, Sam. What am I supposed to do?”
“Right now you just need to calm down,” Sam tells him. “Just relax. Tell me what happened to your car. Who egged it?”
Puck releases Sam’s hand and drags his fingers down his face, breathing deeply. He leans beside Sam, and Sam gives him a second to pull himself together.
“Finn had this thing tonight,” Puck begins. “Just a couple guys at his place, playing some Halo-and he was gonna call you, I swear, but… I told him you had plans because I was still trying to avoid you.”
Sam sighs disgustedly. “Thanks.”
“I know it was a dick move. I’m sorry, man.”
“It’s okay,” Sam says, even though now his mind is plagued with thoughts of how his night could have gone much differently. “Keep going.”
“Okay, well, it was Finn and Hummel, a couple of other guys from the team, and me, and we were just chilling and stuff. Somehow Karofsky and Azimio got wind that we were getting together, so they showed up. At first Finn was okay with it, and they played a couple rounds with us, but then they started making… gay jokes.” Puck pauses, grinding the heel of his boot into a weed sticking through the cracked driveway. “Hummel… Kurt got really upset.”
“I’m sure he did,” Sam says, worrying his lip.
“Yeah. He left pretty soon after. Went up to his room without speaking to anyone. Finn went after him, and then when he came back down-without Kurt-he told Karofsky and Azimio that they had to leave. I was getting pissed off by then, because I know you and Kurt are, like, buds now, and… I’d been thinking a lot about… you know, me, and you as well, and Karofsky and Azimio were just being dicks about everything, so I kinda lost my temper. Azimio and I started shoving each other and stuff, and Finn was getting all mad at us because his parents would kill him if anything happened, and so I told Azimio we should take it outside.”
“You didn’t fight him, did you?” Sam asks, looking at Puck worriedly.
Puck shakes his head. “Nah, Finn broke us up and told Karofsky and Azimio to get the hell out for real. And they did. But it was just weird. I was so pissed, like they’d attacked me personally with their stupid fag comments. I’ve heard them talking like that forever, but it never felt like that before.”
Sam stays silent as Puck takes another deep breath. Puck grinds his heel harder into the cement, then blows out an agitated sigh.
“I’ve never felt like that before,” Puck repeats in a low voice. “It’s a fucked up feeling.”
“Yeah,” Sam agrees quietly. “It is.”
Puck looks at him, and Sam averts his gaze, choosing to stare at Puck’s jeep instead.
“When I came outside a while later, they’d egged all the cars in Finn’s driveway,” Puck says angrily. “Well, we didn’t actually see them, but who else could it have been? They were the only ones pissed at us. I guess in a way it’s good that I didn’t let Finn call you, or else your car would’ve been egged, too.”
Sam rubs his eyes tiredly. “I guess. Yeah.”
“You can’t tell anyone,” Puck says abruptly. “About me, I mean. No one can ever know.”
“Of course I won’t tell anyone. You don’t have to tell anyone until you’re ready.”
“I’m never telling anyone. No one can know that I’m… gay.”
“Bi.”
“Not straight.” Puck exhales slowly. “I’m not straight.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever tell anyone either,” Sam says. “But things change. You meet certain people and things just change.”
Puck is silent for a long moment, and their eyes meet when Sam glances over. Puck looks a little calmer now, less manic and more in control.
“Karofsky and Azimio are dicks,” Puck says. “You have to watch your back.”
“Do you really think they’ll try something?” Sam asks, staring at the bits of eggshells sticking to Puck’s car.
“I don’t know what they’ll do. They’ll probably be gunning for me after tonight.” Puck pauses, crossing his arms. “Just stay away from them, okay?”
“I can take care of myself,” Sam says without much conviction. His stomach churns fiercely, and he takes a calming breath. “You were right, weren’t you?”
“About what?”
“I shouldn’t have come out,” Sam sighs. “This whole thing was a huge mistake. It was stupid. I should have just… I should’ve left everything the way it was.”
Puck pushes off the car and faces Sam, his brows furrowed. “Sam, I… I was being a dick earlier. You coming out wasn’t stupid. I was just mad because you went and dropped this bombshell without telling me. And I was freaked out. I didn’t want anyone messing with you.”
Sam swallows, looking at Puck with watery eyes. He swears Puck’s cheeks are darkening slightly, but he can’t be sure in the dim light.
“What you did was really, really brave,” Puck says in a low voice, looking away. “You’re a lot braver than me, Sam.”
“You’re the badass, though,” Sam says, trying to get Puck to smile. Their eyes meet again, and Puck’s gaze turns curious.
“Where were you tonight?” Puck asks, and Sam’s fingers jitter over the door handle before he jerks away and starts walking to the garage.
“I’ll help you wash your car,” Sam calls over his shoulder. He grabs a bucket and dumps some soap in, then goes to the side of the house for the hose. Puck comes over as he’s filling it up, and Sam carries the bucket to the car while Puck drags the hose over.
Sam retrieves two sponges and hands one to Puck once Puck’s done spraying down his jeep. Sam dunks his sponge into the bucket and squeezes, then starts washing the passenger door and blocking out the window with think suds.
“It feels so weird being not straight,” Puck mutters, vigorously scrubbing beside Sam. “I feel like… I don’t know how I’m feeling. I never not know how I’m feeling. Not knowing feels so weird.”
“Well, I wasn’t kidding when I said before that I’d support you,” Sam says. “If you need to talk or anything, I’m here. I know it feels weird. It’s pretty scary sometimes.”
Puck lets out a long breath. “Okay. Thanks. Just don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t,” Sam says. Puck had been paranoid even before he accepted himself, so Sam figures his paranoia might double now. “Don’t worry.”
“I’d do the same for you, you know,” Puck mumbles after a moment. Sam glances at him, but Puck is busy attacking his jeep. “Like… you know. If you want to talk about shit or whatever. Sometimes I feel like I’m always dumping on you, so if you want to do any dumping of your own, you can.”
“Thanks,” Sam says thickly, leaning down to replenish his sponge. The blood rushes to his head as his hair falls into his eyes, and he squints for a moment, trying to will his headache away. When he wrings out his sponge and rises, he comes eye-to-eye with Puck, who’s stopped washing and is now staring right at him.
“Sam, where were you tonight?” Puck asks once again. Sam blinks quickly, then turns his attention back to the jeep, lifting his sponge to scrub away a streak of egg yolk.
“I just went out. No reason.”
“You’re lying.” Puck lifts his brows expectantly, and Sam sighs.
“I didn’t do anything,” Sam insists. “We should be talking about you. Like how five minutes ago you were practically crying all over me.”
“You were upset when you got here.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were,” Puck says, snatching Sam’s sponge away. “You got out of your car and you called my name when you saw me, but you were upset, okay? I saw you. I just didn’t say anything right that second because I was having a meltdown.”
“You didn’t see anything,” Sam says, but to his horror, he feels his eyes stinging. Puck drops the sponges into the bucket and faces Sam squarely.
“Tell me what happened,” Puck says seriously.
“Or what?” Sam says, wringing his soapy hands and then wiping them on his jeans.
“Sam.” Puck’s voice is quiet, his forehead creased, and Sam feels a stab of guilt for making him worry. Sam shuts his eyes, reluctantly forcing himself to think about Joshua again. He’d much rather focus on making sure Puck is all right, but he can feel Puck’s eyes boring into his skull and he knows he’s not going to get away without talking.
“I did something really stupid tonight,” Sam says quietly. “Really stupid.”
“Dude, just tell me,” Puck says impatiently. “What the hell did you do?”
“I went to see Joshua tonight.” Sam looks at Puck to gauge his reaction, but Puck looks blank. “Joshua? The guy I met weeks ago when we went to Eight Ball together?”
“That creepy old dude you danced with? Sleaze?” Puck asks in disbelief.
“He’s not that old, and his name isn’t Sleaze,” Sam snaps. He doesn’t realize how harsh he sounds until he notices the way Puck is staring at him.
“So, you went to see him,” Puck says slowly.
Sam bites his lip, nodding. “I… I was upset over our fight earlier and I just wanted someone to talk to about everything. I don’t know, I blanked and I couldn’t think of anyone else. I shouldn’t have gone.”
“What did he do to you?” Puck demands, his expression clouding.
“He didn’t do anything.” Sam thinks about kissing him and suddenly feels sick. “We talked… and we were drinking.”
Sam looks away, his heart racing. He wants something to lean on, but the jeep is wet, and his own car is an entire ten paces away. He meets Puck’s gaze, his eyes feeling too warm.
“We kissed,” Sam admits.
“Okay,” Puck says, looking a little lost. “Well, that’s cool, I guess.”
“No, it’s not.” Sam runs a hand through his hair, tasting salt as he bites too hard on the inside of his lip. “We did more than kiss.”
Puck stays silent, staring pensively at the ground. Sam feels his eyes welling up, and he angrily swipes the back of his hand across them. His chest feels tight as he opens his mouth again.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Sam says in a small voice. “I drank too much while we were talking… I didn’t plan on going over there to… you know. He kissed me, and I kissed back, except I was totally drunk and probably would have done anything at that point, which… I guess I did. I can barely remember the details, but I know what we did.”
Puck still doesn’t speak, and Sam sniffs, pushing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He wants to go inside and get in bed and sleep through the rest of his life. He feels too exposed standing here with Puck, explaining something that he wants to forget.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Puck says finally, his voice a low growl.
Sam wrinkles his brow. “What?”
“Sleaze. Joshua. Whatever-I’m gonna kill him.” Puck looks up, his eyes deadly serious.
“What are you talking about? He didn’t attack me or anything,” Sam insists. “He gave me plenty of space to say no.”
“If you think that’s true, you’re an idiot,” Puck snaps. Sam closes his mouth, taken aback. Puck turns around and suddenly slams his fist against the door of his jeep, his mouth curling into a grimace.
“Puck,” Sam says, his voice breaking. Puck looks at him for a moment, then takes the two steps between them, grabbing Sam’s arms.
“You went over there because you were upset and you needed someone to talk to,” Puck says slowly, rage simmering beneath his words. “And that… that asshole got you drunk.”
“I…” Sam trails off, remembering Joshua’s hands in his hair, on his body, and he shivers slightly. “We were both drunk. I think.”
“Yeah, because that douche got you drunk for the sole purpose of taking advantage of you!” Puck yells. “He wanted to fuck you the second he saw you at Eight Ball. Did he even know that you’re sixteen? I’m pretty sure there are laws that could get him tossed into jail.”
“You can’t tell anyone that,” Sam hisses. “He doesn’t deserve to go to jail, okay? He doesn’t know how old I am. He assumed I was over twenty-one because we got into the club.”
“Yeah, but still, he got you drunk and then he practically r-”
“Shut up!” Sam shouts suddenly, his jaw clenched so tightly that it hurts. “I didn’t want to tell you. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I know it was a mistake, and I regret it. Do you think I’m happy about the fact that I just lost my virginity to some guy I met at a stupid club while I was so drunk that I could barely think? We didn’t even know each other! I didn’t even know what I was doing. I can’t even fucking remember everything that happened-all I know is that I let some guy… put his hands all over me and… and it’s over now, and I don’t want to talk about it, or think about it, or be yelled at by you of all people when you’re practically the king of random hook-ups.”
“You’re not me, though,” Puck says, and for a second Sam feels like he’s choking. “You’re even remotely like me. You’re not a random hook-up type of guy.”
“I could be,” Sam says tightly. “How would you know? How would I even know? It’s not like I’ve done this before.”
“You’re not.” Puck’s voice is soft now, and Sam lets out a shuttering breath, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks down.
“I don’t want to think about it,” Sam whispers. “It just feels too weird. I know this is totally lame, and you were probably way cooler about your first time, but… this just isn’t how I imagined it would happen for me.”
“Shit,” Puck says under his breath, sounding pained. “I shouldn’t have stopped Finn from calling you.”
“It’s not your fault, okay? You didn’t even know.” Sam sniffs and wipes his nose on his sleeve. “Don’t do that. It’s only gonna make me feel shittier than I already do. I’m never gonna see Joshua again, so the sooner I just forget this whole thing, the better. I just need you to be cool about this. I just…”
Puck still has his hands on Sam’s arms, his grip tight, and Sam is almost glad because he barely feels like he can stand on his own right now. Sam exhales shakily, swallowing with some difficulty as he looks straight into Puck’s eyes.
“I just need my friend back,” Sam says haltingly. He hears Puck take a breath, watching his lips part slightly. “I just need you to be my friend again. Nothing else. Not right now.”
Puck’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Dude. I’m always gonna be your friend.”
“I feel like we’ve been fighting forever.” Sam’s voice wavers, and when he blinks he can feel moisture sticking to his eyelashes. “I just miss you.”
Puck shakes his head, and Sam lets out a choked breath when Puck grabs him, squeezing his arms tight around his body. Sam shuts his eyes and embraces him, resting his hands on Puck’s back, his fingers curling into loose fists as he presses his face against Puck’s shoulder.
“Jesus, Sam,” Puck says finally, still holding him. “We’re bros, okay? I don’t want you to go around thinking that I’m not gonna be your friend just because we’re having some stupid fight.”
“Well, we kinda told each other that we shouldn’t be friends anymore before you stormed off the football field,” Sam says, lifting his head.
“That was before.” Puck inhales deeply, then loosens his grip as he sighs. “I’m not running away anymore. Especially not now.”
“Good,” Sam says, giving Puck one last squeeze before pulling back. “I don’t have the energy to keep chasing you.”
“I’m sorry,” Puck mumbles, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry I’ve been a shithead. I’m here now, though. And I’m not that great with, like, feelings and stuff, but I’m here for you.”
Sam nods, the knot in his stomach loosening. “Thanks.”
“I mean it,” Puck says seriously. “I know you want to pretend nothing happened to you, but I’m the master of repressing shit, and let me tell you, it doesn’t work. I’m here for you, okay? I’m not going anywhere. And I’m definitely not leaving you alone until I know you’re all right.”
Sam bites his lip, a surge of affection running through him, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from slipping his hand into Puck’s. He wants to, but he knows he shouldn’t, not just because he needs to give himself some space, but because Puck just came out to him five minutes ago, and jumping into anything with him would be a recipe for disaster.
“It’s just been… you know. Pretty crazy,” Puck continues. “This whole bi thing still freaks me out.”
“Luckily, you have me.” Sam tries smiling, and it feels a lot less forced now. “I have absolutely no knowledge about bisexuality, but we’re gonna figure this out. Together. Us and Google.”
Puck laughs, and Sam sees his eyes glistening. “Okay. It’s kind of a shitty plan, but I’ll take it.”
This verse is continued in Up to the Platform of Surrender.
Part: 3/3
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.
back
Sam wants to pick up the phone and tell Puck that he’s getting prank calls (even though prank calls are supposed to be funny, and these are anything but), but he can’t. Sam goes to his desk and tries to focus on his textbook again. He can’t concentrate and the words look like they’re melting down the page. He considers calling Kurt, but he feels guilty about going to him every time he needs to vent. Rachel is next on his list, but as awesome of a friend as she is, Sam wants to talk someone who really knows what he’s going through.
He closes his textbook and his hand brushes against a messy stack of papers-mostly old homework and tests that he needs to revise and hand back in, but he spots the corner of a familiar pink napkin. He pulls it out and looks at the number scrawled across it, right underneath the Eight Ball logo embossed on the thin material.
He’s barely given Joshua a second thought since they met weeks ago. Sam blushes a little as he remembers how he’d gotten totally drunk and practically groped Puck before they’d gone home, but he pushes the thought away and focuses on Joshua. He’d been nice enough, even though he’d stormed off when Sam said he wouldn’t go home with him. However, the interest had been there, and at least Sam doesn’t have to guess about Joshua’s sexuality. He knows he’s gay, and he knows he’s attracted to him.
Joshua is older than him, and Sam wonders if maybe Joshua could give him some advice, or at least assure him that coming out hadn’t been the worst decision of Sam’s entire life. Sam’s fingers hesitate over the keypad of his phone, but after a moment he dials the number.
Joshua answers on the second ring, and Sam greets him nervously.
“Hey, Joshua, it’s, um… this is Sam. We met at Eight Ball a couple weeks ago. We, um, just danced and stuff, and you gave me your number and told me to call if I was ever free.”
“Sam… oh, right, Sam! Yeah, I remember you.” Joshua sounds pleased, and Sam relaxes a little. “What’s up?”
“I, uh… are you busy tonight?” Sam asks.
“Are you asking me out?” Joshua replies teasingly, and Sam blushes again.
“Um, I was just wondering,” Sam stammers. “I kind of… well, I don’t really know that many gay people, so when I need to talk or have questions… it’s just hard, I guess.”
Joshua pauses before speaking again. “Do you want to come over? I don’t have plans and you’d be more than welcome.”
“Yeah. I’d like that.” Sam grabs a pen and jots down Joshua’s address. “I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”
“See you, Sam.”
Sam grabs his jacket and keys, contemplating telling his mom where he’s going, but he figures she’ll freak out. She’ll also probably want to know where he met Joshua in the first place, and then he’d have to make something up because there’s no way he’s sharing his fake I.D. with her, so he breezes past her and says he’s hanging out with Kurt and Rachel and that he’ll be home pretty late so she won’t wait up.
Twenty minutes later he’s knocking on Joshua’s apartment door, nervous and a little chilly in the cool night air. He wonders if he should have told at least one person where he’s really going, but then the door swings open and his fears mostly dissipate when Joshua smiles at him.
“Hey, come in,” Joshua says, immediately putting a hand on Sam’s arm and nudging him inside. Sam mutters a quick thank you and looks around as Joshua shuts the door. The apartment is small, but nice. The walls are a creamy white and there are modern art paintings hanging on them that to Sam look like scribbles and blobs.
“You want something to drink?” Joshua asks, coming up behind him. Sam is a little surprised when Joshua rests his hands on Sam’s hips, but he remembers how they were all over each other at Eight Ball, so it’s not that weird when he thinks about it.
“I’ll mix us some Jack and Cokes, okay?” Joshua says before Sam can respond. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”
“Um, okay,” Sam says. Joshua disappears into the kitchen, and Sam wanders to the couch. He sits down and glances at a picture on the little take by the arm of the couch. It’s Joshua and another woman, and Sam is still looking at it when Joshua returns.
“Who’s that?” Sam asks as he accepts his drink. Joshua sits down beside him, setting a bottle of Jack and a few cans of Coke on the coffee table.
“That’s my ex-wife,” he replies.
“You were married?”
“For two years, yeah. I knew I was gay the whole time, I just wasn’t ready to admit it.” Joshua stirs his ice and shrugs. “Thought I could ignore it and it would go away.”
Sam pushes down his sudden unhappiness and takes a swig of his drink. He wonders if Puck has convinced himself of the same thing. Sam can’t imagine doing that to himself, knowing it would make him miserable.
“You all right?” Joshua asks gently, and Sam nods, swallowing quicker and trying not to think about how many calories he’s knocking back. It tastes good, though, and it helps him relax. He eyes the bottle on the table, and Joshua takes Sam’s glass and refills it.
“You sounded a little upset on the phone,” Joshua says, handing the glass back.
Sam sighs slowly. “I think I did something really stupid.”
“Like?”
“I, um… I came out to all my friends. And there are these two guys who are total dicks about this kind of thing, and… well, my other friend told me that I should’ve kept my mouth shut because I basically just painted a target on my back.” Sam looks at Joshua, who’s gazing back intently. “And also, I think one of my best friends is bi and he won’t admit it and we’ve been fighting about it forever.”
“Look, Sam, you should do what you have to do to keep yourself safe,” Joshua says.
“So you think I shouldn’t have come out either,” Sam says, hiding his bitterness with another long gulp.
“No, I just think you should be safe. You can’t joke around with this kind of stuff.”
“I know,” Sam says quietly. “Trust me, I know.”
Joshua reaches out and puts a hand on Sam’s knee, giving it a warm squeeze. “Well, I’m glad you called. You were one of my better dance partners at Eight Ball.”
“I’m a terrible dancer,” Sam says, one corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “I haven’t even been back since. I don’t know, I just feel weird going by myself.”
“You came with a friend last time… guy with the mohawk, right?”
“Yeah, that’s Puck.” Sam swallows down his second glass and reaches for the bottle again. “My best friend. I have a serious crush on him. I think. It feels like we’ve been fighting for forever, though.”
“Fighting over what?” Joshua pours more Coke for Sam, letting their hands brush as he empties the can.
“We kissed.” Sam sips his drink slower now, his body and tongue loosening. “Well, we kinda did more than that. But now he keeps telling me he’s straight, even though I know he wants this. Or, I thought I knew. I think I’ve been pushing him too hard to admit the truth, and now he seems pretty mad at me. But he’s also scared.”
“I can tell just from the way you’re talking about him that you really care about this guy,” Joshua says. Sam looks down and nods, blearily wiping his face with fingers that are cold from holding his drink. Joshua scoots closer and puts a hand on Sam’s back, rubbing it gently.
“I don’t know what to do,” Sam says, frustrated. “I apologized, but he said he needs space anyway. I just want him with me. I know that’s selfish, but he’s my friend-the best friend I’ve ever had-and I miss him.”
“It sounds like you’re in love with him.”
Sam almost drops his glass. He makes a spluttering sound, shakes his head, and quickly chugs down the rest of his drink.
“No,” Sam says decidedly, putting his empty glass on the table, then unwittingly leaning against Joshua as the room sways a little. His chest feels heavy and his fingers curl into loose fists on his knees. He shivers as Joshua rests a hand at the nape of his neck, his fingers gently scratching through his hair.
“You miss him, though,” Joshua says, and Sam sighs, gravitating toward his touch.
“Yeah, I do,” Sam whispers, feeling Joshua’s fingers tilting his chin. Sam’s eyes slide shut as Joshua kisses him, his mouth cold from the ice in his drink, but it warms up immediately as their lips move against each other.
Sam makes a soft noise and breaks off the kiss, keeping his eyes closed and staying close to Joshua. Joshua has his arm around Sam’s neck, cradling him gently as Sam tries to pull himself together.
“It’s okay, Sam,” Joshua says. “You came here because you were lonely, right?”
“I think so, yeah,” Sam breathes, his brow furrowing slightly at how sluggishly his mind is working.
“I know what it feels like to want someone you can’t have,” Joshua continues, his thumb rubbing gently along Sam’s cheek.
“It sucks.” Sam looks sadly at Joshua, who nods.
“Just close your eyes.” Joshua sweeps his hand over Sam’s face, and Sam obeys. “Pretend I’m someone else. Pretend I’m him.”
Sam lets Joshua kiss him again, slowly at first, then it deepens into something more as Joshua puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders, sliding them down his arms and coming to rest on his hips. He presses Sam against the back of the couch, and Sam leans back and hesitantly parts his lips when Joshua’s tongue prods him.
Joshua snakes a hand beneath Sam’s shirt, and Sam squirms as he feels the foreign sensation of fingers roaming across his stomach. It tickles a little, and it feels good, but it’s not Puck. His face grows hot as Joshua’s hand goes higher, and he exhales shakily as his fingers graze over his nipples.
Sam shifts, a wave of dizziness passing through him from both the alcohol and Joshua’s touch, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s on his back with Joshua nearly on top of him. They’re both still clothed, but Joshua’s fingers are insistently teasing his nipples, and Sam’s growing hard quickly.
“Wait,” Sam half moans, pushing his bangs back as he covers his eyes. The lights are glaring down at him, fueling his vertigo. Joshua eases back, then pulls Sam up and puts his arms around him. Sam leans forward as Joshua plants a kiss on his lips.
“Come on, let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” Joshua says, standing and tugging Sam along with him. Sam puts an arm around Joshua’s waist for balance, allowing him to lead him down the short hallway to his bedroom. Sam blinks and tries to clear his head as they enter the dim room, and a part of him tenses because he’s unsure about what’s coming.
Joshua gives him a reassuring smile and brings him to the bed. Sam sits down and sleepily closes his eyes as Joshua leans down, their lips pressing together. They kiss for a long moment as Joshua slowly climbs beside him, and Sam lies down, his hand resting on Joshua’s shoulder as they break apart. Sam licks his lips and gazes up at Joshua, who’s busy fingering the buttons on Sam’s shirt. Joshua looks at him and holds his gaze as he gradually unfastens the first button.
Sam lies back, feeling warm and wobbly from alcohol, or maybe from how Joshua’s got the rest of his shirt open and is dragging his lips down his chest. He remembers Joshua telling him to just pretend he’s Puck, and Sam tries, but it’s not the same. When Joshua unzips his jeans and cups a hand around Sam’s erection, it’s not even remotely the same as the electricity he felt when Puck touched him. Joshua jacks him gently, and Sam feels himself react, his breath quickening and his muscles tightening, but his head keeps swimming and half the time he feels like he’s about to fall off the bed.
He suddenly has an intense desire to be with Puck, so strong that he lets out an audible whimper, his fingers scratching at the sheets in agitation. He’s panting now, his hips bucking lightly against Joshua’s hand, and he groans when Joshua stops to pull his jeans and boxers down the rest of the way. Sam hears them drop onto the floor, his keys clinking in his pocket, and then Joshua is on him again, running his warm hands up Sam’s arms and kissing him with a smile.
“You have an amazing body,” Joshua murmurs against his lips. He pulls back and nudges Sam’s legs open wider. Sam closes his eyes, his mind wandering back to Puck and how he could almost accept that they’ll never date if Puck would just be his friend again. The thought that their friendship could be over makes his eyes burn, and he doesn’t realize he’s on the verge of breaking down until Joshua says his name.
“Is this okay?” Joshua asks, and Sam notices for the first time that Joshua is now naked and he has on a condom. Sam should feel excited or at least turned on, but he just feels numb.
“I feel so alone,” Sam says, his voice cracking as his words slur together. He shivers as Joshua lightly strokes the inside of his thigh.
“You’re not alone tonight,” Joshua says. Sam groans when he suddenly feels Joshua’s moist fingers circling him, slowly pressing inside. Sam’s eyes squeeze shut at the foreign burning sensation, and at the beginning it hurts enough to cut through his intoxicated haze and almost make him tell Joshua to stop, but he grits his teeth and tries to find comfort in Joshua’s touch. He’s been nice to him, and Sam doesn’t want to seem ungrateful.
Everything runs together after a while, and something in the back of Sam’s mind is telling him that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. He clenches his legs around Joshua, his lips parted as quiet sounds come out, his back arching at the tightness and fullness of how Joshua feels inside him, and it just doesn’t feel right, not when he’s falling down drunk, and especially not when Puck isn’t here.
Sam growls deep in his throat as he comes right after Joshua, their bodies tangled together. Joshua pulls out quickly, catching his breath as Sam relaxes his legs, and Sam’s hands tremble lightly as Joshua lies down beside him, bringing the covers up.
Joshua doesn’t say anything; he just drapes an arm over Sam’s waist, and when Sam glances over, Joshua’s eyes are closed. Sam closes his eyes as well, because swinging his gaze around too much makes him nauseous. The bed is warm and comfortable, though, and Sam feels sleep tugging him under.
- - - - -
Sam wakes up with a sour taste in his mouth and a throbbing headache. He’s confused for a moment as he sits up and looks at Joshua’s snoring form beside him, but then he feels a twinge in his body, and Sam groans as he brings his knees up and rubs his eyes.
He tries to be careful as he slips out of bed, but his hangover is too painful to allow for sneakiness, and he ends up waking Joshua. Sam finds his shirt and slips it on while Joshua rustles behind him.
“Leaving?” Joshua asks simply, and Sam is glad he has his back to him, because he doesn’t want Joshua to see the regret all over his face.
“Yeah, I’ve gotta get home,” Sam says softly. He finishes buttoning his shirt and turns around when Joshua puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I hope things work out between you and your friend,” Joshua says. “I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah, probably,” Sam replies, swallowing around the lie. He gets out of bed and grabs the rest of his clothes, quickly dressing. There’s a tight, aching ball of tension inside him, and Sam barely allows himself to breathe until he’s outside, climbing into his car.
He drags his hands down his face and takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, but he’s so angry at himself that he feels his eyes burning in shame. He feels filthy as he starts his car and drives home, his knuckles white around the steering wheel.
He’s pulling into his neighborhood when he finally admits to himself that he just lost his virginity to some guy he met at a club, while too drunk to even remember the details. He doesn’t even know Joshua’s last name. Sam gulps down the lump rising in his throat, knitting his brows together as he drives past the darkened, silent houses.
Puck is by his driveway. Or at least his jeep is. Sam squints as he parks, turning off his car and opening the door. There’s stuff on the surface of Puck’s jeep, and Sam blinks in the darkness and thinks it looks a lot like the jeep has been egged.
“Puck?” Sam calls out in a thin voice. Puck opens his door and all but tumbles out, and Sam wipes his face discreetly, hoping his eyes aren’t too red. His head throbs as Puck comes up to him, his hands jammed in his pockets and his eyes bright beneath the moonlight.
“Sam,” Puck says softly, and when Sam finally gets a clear view of his face, he realizes Puck looks like he’s barely holding it together.
“What happened to your car?” Sam asks, then falls silent when Puck closes the space between them and puts his hands on Sam’s cheeks, cupping his face. Sam blinks in surprise, a soft breath escaping his lips as Puck’s rough thumbs glide across his skin. Sam thinks Puck is going to kiss him, but Puck’s face crumbles suddenly, and then Puck puts his arms around Sam, enveloping him tightly as he buries his face in the crook of Sam’s neck. Sam can feel Puck trembling against him, his breath hot and wet against his skin, and it’s the closest he’s ever seen Puck come to really, actually crying.
“Puck, what happened?” Sam wants to keep this about Puck, even though now he’s clinging back just as hard, relieved that it’s Puck and not anyone else. For a moment he forgets his own fears and just focuses on Puck. “Dude, you’re scaring me. Talk to me, Puck.”
“Sorry,” Puck says, his words muffled. He raises his head, taking a deep breath as he scrubs at his eyes.
“Just tell me what’s wrong,” Sam says, gently grasping Puck’s arm.
“Shit,” Puck whispers, covering his face with one hand. “Shit, shit, shit. Fuck.”
“Talk to me,” Sam repeats, pulling Puck’s hand down and forcing him to look at him. Puck stares back, his eyes rimmed in red and wide with fear.
“Sam,” Puck says, his voice barely audible. “I… fuck, I don’t… I don’t know what to do. I’m screwed, man. I’m screwed. I’m completely fucking fucked.”
Sam twines their fingers together when he feels Puck touch his hand. “You’re not screwed, okay? Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Sam, I think…” Puck swallows hard, squeezing Sam’s hand. His mouth trembles, breathing unsteadily as Sam nods, trying to get Puck to speak.
“You think what?” Sam asks softly. Puck’s eyes glisten as he looks away, his nose tinged red as he sniffs.
“I think… Sam, I might be… bisexual,” Puck says, his voice cracking on the last word. “I think I’m bi. I don’t know. I just… I don’t think I’m straight.”
Sam closes his eyes briefly, letting out a tiny sigh of relief, and then Puck is burrowing into him again, and Sam hugs him firmly, leaning against his car. Puck makes a bunch of muffled sounds against his shoulder as Sam holds him, feeling every ripple of emotion running through Puck.
“I’m screwed,” Puck groans around a jagged breath.
“No, you’re not.” Sam speaks firmly and clearly even though he wants to cry himself. “I promise you’re not screwed.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Puck asks suddenly, pulling back and looking at Sam with wild eyes.
“Nothing,” Sam says, but Puck shakes his head.
“I can’t do nothing! I gotta… I don’t know, but I just have to do something,” Puck says desperately. “You gotta tell me what to do, Sam. What am I supposed to do?”
“Right now you just need to calm down,” Sam tells him. “Just relax. Tell me what happened to your car. Who egged it?”
Puck releases Sam’s hand and drags his fingers down his face, breathing deeply. He leans beside Sam, and Sam gives him a second to pull himself together.
“Finn had this thing tonight,” Puck begins. “Just a couple guys at his place, playing some Halo-and he was gonna call you, I swear, but… I told him you had plans because I was still trying to avoid you.”
Sam sighs disgustedly. “Thanks.”
“I know it was a dick move. I’m sorry, man.”
“It’s okay,” Sam says, even though now his mind is plagued with thoughts of how his night could have gone much differently. “Keep going.”
“Okay, well, it was Finn and Hummel, a couple of other guys from the team, and me, and we were just chilling and stuff. Somehow Karofsky and Azimio got wind that we were getting together, so they showed up. At first Finn was okay with it, and they played a couple rounds with us, but then they started making… gay jokes.” Puck pauses, grinding the heel of his boot into a weed sticking through the cracked driveway. “Hummel… Kurt got really upset.”
“I’m sure he did,” Sam says, worrying his lip.
“Yeah. He left pretty soon after. Went up to his room without speaking to anyone. Finn went after him, and then when he came back down-without Kurt-he told Karofsky and Azimio that they had to leave. I was getting pissed off by then, because I know you and Kurt are, like, buds now, and… I’d been thinking a lot about… you know, me, and you as well, and Karofsky and Azimio were just being dicks about everything, so I kinda lost my temper. Azimio and I started shoving each other and stuff, and Finn was getting all mad at us because his parents would kill him if anything happened, and so I told Azimio we should take it outside.”
“You didn’t fight him, did you?” Sam asks, looking at Puck worriedly.
Puck shakes his head. “Nah, Finn broke us up and told Karofsky and Azimio to get the hell out for real. And they did. But it was just weird. I was so pissed, like they’d attacked me personally with their stupid fag comments. I’ve heard them talking like that forever, but it never felt like that before.”
Sam stays silent as Puck takes another deep breath. Puck grinds his heel harder into the cement, then blows out an agitated sigh.
“I’ve never felt like that before,” Puck repeats in a low voice. “It’s a fucked up feeling.”
“Yeah,” Sam agrees quietly. “It is.”
Puck looks at him, and Sam averts his gaze, choosing to stare at Puck’s jeep instead.
“When I came outside a while later, they’d egged all the cars in Finn’s driveway,” Puck says angrily. “Well, we didn’t actually see them, but who else could it have been? They were the only ones pissed at us. I guess in a way it’s good that I didn’t let Finn call you, or else your car would’ve been egged, too.”
Sam rubs his eyes tiredly. “I guess. Yeah.”
“You can’t tell anyone,” Puck says abruptly. “About me, I mean. No one can ever know.”
“Of course I won’t tell anyone. You don’t have to tell anyone until you’re ready.”
“I’m never telling anyone. No one can know that I’m… gay.”
“Bi.”
“Not straight.” Puck exhales slowly. “I’m not straight.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever tell anyone either,” Sam says. “But things change. You meet certain people and things just change.”
Puck is silent for a long moment, and their eyes meet when Sam glances over. Puck looks a little calmer now, less manic and more in control.
“Karofsky and Azimio are dicks,” Puck says. “You have to watch your back.”
“Do you really think they’ll try something?” Sam asks, staring at the bits of eggshells sticking to Puck’s car.
“I don’t know what they’ll do. They’ll probably be gunning for me after tonight.” Puck pauses, crossing his arms. “Just stay away from them, okay?”
“I can take care of myself,” Sam says without much conviction. His stomach churns fiercely, and he takes a calming breath. “You were right, weren’t you?”
“About what?”
“I shouldn’t have come out,” Sam sighs. “This whole thing was a huge mistake. It was stupid. I should have just… I should’ve left everything the way it was.”
Puck pushes off the car and faces Sam, his brows furrowed. “Sam, I… I was being a dick earlier. You coming out wasn’t stupid. I was just mad because you went and dropped this bombshell without telling me. And I was freaked out. I didn’t want anyone messing with you.”
Sam swallows, looking at Puck with watery eyes. He swears Puck’s cheeks are darkening slightly, but he can’t be sure in the dim light.
“What you did was really, really brave,” Puck says in a low voice, looking away. “You’re a lot braver than me, Sam.”
“You’re the badass, though,” Sam says, trying to get Puck to smile. Their eyes meet again, and Puck’s gaze turns curious.
“Where were you tonight?” Puck asks, and Sam’s fingers jitter over the door handle before he jerks away and starts walking to the garage.
“I’ll help you wash your car,” Sam calls over his shoulder. He grabs a bucket and dumps some soap in, then goes to the side of the house for the hose. Puck comes over as he’s filling it up, and Sam carries the bucket to the car while Puck drags the hose over.
Sam retrieves two sponges and hands one to Puck once Puck’s done spraying down his jeep. Sam dunks his sponge into the bucket and squeezes, then starts washing the passenger door and blocking out the window with think suds.
“It feels so weird being not straight,” Puck mutters, vigorously scrubbing beside Sam. “I feel like… I don’t know how I’m feeling. I never not know how I’m feeling. Not knowing feels so weird.”
“Well, I wasn’t kidding when I said before that I’d support you,” Sam says. “If you need to talk or anything, I’m here. I know it feels weird. It’s pretty scary sometimes.”
Puck lets out a long breath. “Okay. Thanks. Just don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t,” Sam says. Puck had been paranoid even before he accepted himself, so Sam figures his paranoia might double now. “Don’t worry.”
“I’d do the same for you, you know,” Puck mumbles after a moment. Sam glances at him, but Puck is busy attacking his jeep. “Like… you know. If you want to talk about shit or whatever. Sometimes I feel like I’m always dumping on you, so if you want to do any dumping of your own, you can.”
“Thanks,” Sam says thickly, leaning down to replenish his sponge. The blood rushes to his head as his hair falls into his eyes, and he squints for a moment, trying to will his headache away. When he wrings out his sponge and rises, he comes eye-to-eye with Puck, who’s stopped washing and is now staring right at him.
“Sam, where were you tonight?” Puck asks once again. Sam blinks quickly, then turns his attention back to the jeep, lifting his sponge to scrub away a streak of egg yolk.
“I just went out. No reason.”
“You’re lying.” Puck lifts his brows expectantly, and Sam sighs.
“I didn’t do anything,” Sam insists. “We should be talking about you. Like how five minutes ago you were practically crying all over me.”
“You were upset when you got here.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were,” Puck says, snatching Sam’s sponge away. “You got out of your car and you called my name when you saw me, but you were upset, okay? I saw you. I just didn’t say anything right that second because I was having a meltdown.”
“You didn’t see anything,” Sam says, but to his horror, he feels his eyes stinging. Puck drops the sponges into the bucket and faces Sam squarely.
“Tell me what happened,” Puck says seriously.
“Or what?” Sam says, wringing his soapy hands and then wiping them on his jeans.
“Sam.” Puck’s voice is quiet, his forehead creased, and Sam feels a stab of guilt for making him worry. Sam shuts his eyes, reluctantly forcing himself to think about Joshua again. He’d much rather focus on making sure Puck is all right, but he can feel Puck’s eyes boring into his skull and he knows he’s not going to get away without talking.
“I did something really stupid tonight,” Sam says quietly. “Really stupid.”
“Dude, just tell me,” Puck says impatiently. “What the hell did you do?”
“I went to see Joshua tonight.” Sam looks at Puck to gauge his reaction, but Puck looks blank. “Joshua? The guy I met weeks ago when we went to Eight Ball together?”
“That creepy old dude you danced with? Sleaze?” Puck asks in disbelief.
“He’s not that old, and his name isn’t Sleaze,” Sam snaps. He doesn’t realize how harsh he sounds until he notices the way Puck is staring at him.
“So, you went to see him,” Puck says slowly.
Sam bites his lip, nodding. “I… I was upset over our fight earlier and I just wanted someone to talk to about everything. I don’t know, I blanked and I couldn’t think of anyone else. I shouldn’t have gone.”
“What did he do to you?” Puck demands, his expression clouding.
“He didn’t do anything.” Sam thinks about kissing him and suddenly feels sick. “We talked… and we were drinking.”
Sam looks away, his heart racing. He wants something to lean on, but the jeep is wet, and his own car is an entire ten paces away. He meets Puck’s gaze, his eyes feeling too warm.
“We kissed,” Sam admits.
“Okay,” Puck says, looking a little lost. “Well, that’s cool, I guess.”
“No, it’s not.” Sam runs a hand through his hair, tasting salt as he bites too hard on the inside of his lip. “We did more than kiss.”
Puck stays silent, staring pensively at the ground. Sam feels his eyes welling up, and he angrily swipes the back of his hand across them. His chest feels tight as he opens his mouth again.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Sam says in a small voice. “I drank too much while we were talking… I didn’t plan on going over there to… you know. He kissed me, and I kissed back, except I was totally drunk and probably would have done anything at that point, which… I guess I did. I can barely remember the details, but I know what we did.”
Puck still doesn’t speak, and Sam sniffs, pushing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He wants to go inside and get in bed and sleep through the rest of his life. He feels too exposed standing here with Puck, explaining something that he wants to forget.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Puck says finally, his voice a low growl.
Sam wrinkles his brow. “What?”
“Sleaze. Joshua. Whatever-I’m gonna kill him.” Puck looks up, his eyes deadly serious.
“What are you talking about? He didn’t attack me or anything,” Sam insists. “He gave me plenty of space to say no.”
“If you think that’s true, you’re an idiot,” Puck snaps. Sam closes his mouth, taken aback. Puck turns around and suddenly slams his fist against the door of his jeep, his mouth curling into a grimace.
“Puck,” Sam says, his voice breaking. Puck looks at him for a moment, then takes the two steps between them, grabbing Sam’s arms.
“You went over there because you were upset and you needed someone to talk to,” Puck says slowly, rage simmering beneath his words. “And that… that asshole got you drunk.”
“I…” Sam trails off, remembering Joshua’s hands in his hair, on his body, and he shivers slightly. “We were both drunk. I think.”
“Yeah, because that douche got you drunk for the sole purpose of taking advantage of you!” Puck yells. “He wanted to fuck you the second he saw you at Eight Ball. Did he even know that you’re sixteen? I’m pretty sure there are laws that could get him tossed into jail.”
“You can’t tell anyone that,” Sam hisses. “He doesn’t deserve to go to jail, okay? He doesn’t know how old I am. He assumed I was over twenty-one because we got into the club.”
“Yeah, but still, he got you drunk and then he practically r-”
“Shut up!” Sam shouts suddenly, his jaw clenched so tightly that it hurts. “I didn’t want to tell you. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I know it was a mistake, and I regret it. Do you think I’m happy about the fact that I just lost my virginity to some guy I met at a stupid club while I was so drunk that I could barely think? We didn’t even know each other! I didn’t even know what I was doing. I can’t even fucking remember everything that happened-all I know is that I let some guy… put his hands all over me and… and it’s over now, and I don’t want to talk about it, or think about it, or be yelled at by you of all people when you’re practically the king of random hook-ups.”
“You’re not me, though,” Puck says, and for a second Sam feels like he’s choking. “You’re even remotely like me. You’re not a random hook-up type of guy.”
“I could be,” Sam says tightly. “How would you know? How would I even know? It’s not like I’ve done this before.”
“You’re not.” Puck’s voice is soft now, and Sam lets out a shuttering breath, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks down.
“I don’t want to think about it,” Sam whispers. “It just feels too weird. I know this is totally lame, and you were probably way cooler about your first time, but… this just isn’t how I imagined it would happen for me.”
“Shit,” Puck says under his breath, sounding pained. “I shouldn’t have stopped Finn from calling you.”
“It’s not your fault, okay? You didn’t even know.” Sam sniffs and wipes his nose on his sleeve. “Don’t do that. It’s only gonna make me feel shittier than I already do. I’m never gonna see Joshua again, so the sooner I just forget this whole thing, the better. I just need you to be cool about this. I just…”
Puck still has his hands on Sam’s arms, his grip tight, and Sam is almost glad because he barely feels like he can stand on his own right now. Sam exhales shakily, swallowing with some difficulty as he looks straight into Puck’s eyes.
“I just need my friend back,” Sam says haltingly. He hears Puck take a breath, watching his lips part slightly. “I just need you to be my friend again. Nothing else. Not right now.”
Puck’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Dude. I’m always gonna be your friend.”
“I feel like we’ve been fighting forever.” Sam’s voice wavers, and when he blinks he can feel moisture sticking to his eyelashes. “I just miss you.”
Puck shakes his head, and Sam lets out a choked breath when Puck grabs him, squeezing his arms tight around his body. Sam shuts his eyes and embraces him, resting his hands on Puck’s back, his fingers curling into loose fists as he presses his face against Puck’s shoulder.
“Jesus, Sam,” Puck says finally, still holding him. “We’re bros, okay? I don’t want you to go around thinking that I’m not gonna be your friend just because we’re having some stupid fight.”
“Well, we kinda told each other that we shouldn’t be friends anymore before you stormed off the football field,” Sam says, lifting his head.
“That was before.” Puck inhales deeply, then loosens his grip as he sighs. “I’m not running away anymore. Especially not now.”
“Good,” Sam says, giving Puck one last squeeze before pulling back. “I don’t have the energy to keep chasing you.”
“I’m sorry,” Puck mumbles, his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry I’ve been a shithead. I’m here now, though. And I’m not that great with, like, feelings and stuff, but I’m here for you.”
Sam nods, the knot in his stomach loosening. “Thanks.”
“I mean it,” Puck says seriously. “I know you want to pretend nothing happened to you, but I’m the master of repressing shit, and let me tell you, it doesn’t work. I’m here for you, okay? I’m not going anywhere. And I’m definitely not leaving you alone until I know you’re all right.”
Sam bites his lip, a surge of affection running through him, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from slipping his hand into Puck’s. He wants to, but he knows he shouldn’t, not just because he needs to give himself some space, but because Puck just came out to him five minutes ago, and jumping into anything with him would be a recipe for disaster.
“It’s just been… you know. Pretty crazy,” Puck continues. “This whole bi thing still freaks me out.”
“Luckily, you have me.” Sam tries smiling, and it feels a lot less forced now. “I have absolutely no knowledge about bisexuality, but we’re gonna figure this out. Together. Us and Google.”
Puck laughs, and Sam sees his eyes glistening. “Okay. It’s kind of a shitty plan, but I’ll take it.”
This verse is continued in Up to the Platform of Surrender.