Midnight Jam Session
Title:Midnight Jam Session
Rating:PG
Characters/Pairings: Noah “Puck” Puckerman and father Puckerman
Spoilers: none
Summary:Noah was six when he held his first guitar.
Word Count:1,032
Author’s Notes: Done for gleeverse’s ‘Jar Of Hearts’ Challenge. Inspired by this image. The relationship between Puck and his father is one I’m completely fascinated by, I just feel like there is so much potential to explore; curse you show for never giving us more details on this back-story or giving Puck a REAL storyline he as the potential for so many great ones!!. Anyway I hope you enjoy this bittersweet moment between father and son I certainly had fun writing it. ♥
Puck, no that wasn’t right; Puck hadn’t come to being just yet. Noah was six when he held his first guitar. Smooth and cool against his palm he remembered the electricity that passed through him, as his hands ran over the polished wood. His father had sat behind him, arms reaching around him, maneuvering his fingers over the neck of the guitar.
Even now, years later, Puck still didn’t know what had prompted his father into waking him up for a spontaneous midnight jam session and in doing so broke the only rule he ever enforced. Don’t touch my guitars, not ever! He supposed there was a connection to large quantities of alcohol and a gig going extremely well. Whatever the reason Puck was both forever grateful and bitter. It had given him one of the very few fond memories he had of his absent father but at the same time had made the hole much darker.
“This is A major.” his father had pressed their joined fingers down firmly against the neck strings. “You use your right hand to play the chord, like this.”
Using his right hand, he strummed his fingers against the strings; the musical sound flooded the room. Noah mimicked his father but his motion was timid and only produced a faint hum.
“You’ve got to play like you mean it,” his voice was stern, like the sound his son had just created offended him somehow. “It’s not going to give you anything if you pansy around. Try again.”
Noah yawned, his mind was still half asleep, lost somewhere in a dream world and yet he was determined to do this right. This was his chance, a chanced he’d hoped and prayed for; to prove to his father he was worth his time. If he could get this right maybe his dad would take him to one his concerts, he’d been begging for months, or at the very least they’d have more of these musical sessions. This time when he played, his hand moved with more authority; the sound rang out clearly, reverberating around the room. His father nodded his silent approval.
“This,” he repositioned Noah’s fingers. “Is G major.” Although his fingers strained across the breadth of the neck, somehow Noah managed to produce a solid sound. Once again his father nodded and moved on to another chord. They continued on like that, chord after chord, note after note, until they’d covered what seemed like 1000 different finger positions and the sun had begun to peek through the curtains.
After a while his father trusted him enough to hold the guitar that was so dear to him without his hands underneath as a safety net. Moving out from behind Noah he grabbed the nearest guitar, slumping down on a chair in front of the curious child.
“Alright,” he half smirked, “let’s see if you can follow me.” With experienced hands he strung together different chords, making up a small tune. As he played he spoke the chords he was using out loud, as a small guide aid for Noah.
“You try.” He gestured to Noah. Truth be told he hadn’t expected much from his son. He was already shocked and secretly proud they’d made it this far. So when Noah took a deep breath and mimicked his movements with considerable ease, he couldn’t hide the pride in his eyes.
“Good.” The pride he felt emanating from his father made Noah’s heart leap in his chest; suddenly he was wide awake, ready and eager for the next instruction. He shifted excitedly on the floor, the guitar bobbing in his lap.
“Alright don’t get cocky,” his father half heartily chided. Noah smiled, eyes sparkling in the dimly light room.
“Let see how well you can follow this.” Noah watched in wonder as his father began to string together a far more complicated song, his fingers moving fast and steadily against the strings. He lost track after the first 30 seconds, the movements of his father’s hands was much too difficult for his young mind to remember. When he had finished his father looked at him, smirking.
Feeling like this was some kind of test; Noah took a breath and began to play. He didn’t even try to emulate his father’s song, knowing full well he’d fail, instead he closed his eyes and allowed his fingers to move over the strings themselves, jamming to his own tune as he created something that was uniquely him.
When his eyes snapped open, the last notes fading into the early morning air, Noah glanced at his father. He was hoping for a nod of approval, anything that would let him know he passed this last test. What he got was a lot more. In that moment, for the first time in well ever his father looked at him. Really truly looked at him. Like he wasn’t just some kid he happened to share a house with but actually his son. It wasn’t in the same way he’d look at him when someone on the street would say so this is your son.. Or when his mother would point to him and almost scream You have a son you know, he’s right there!. No, this went a lot deeper than a small flicker of acknowledgment. What Noah saw in his father’s eyes was dare he say it…love?
And just like that Noah suddenly saw a lifetime of memories reflecting in this father’s eyes. A tradition of late night jam sessions, nights spent peeking out from behind a dark stage watching his father play to a roaring crowd. He saw himself upon stage, accompanying his father, then alone, the spot light solely on him as his father cheered from the bar. That’s my son, that’s my Noah!. Father and son. They’d be the greatest team the world had ever known and as his father ruffled his hair, lips curling upwards in an almost smile, Noah knew he saw it too.
Four months later when a door slammed shut and a silhouette disappeared into the night, the veil of dreams that hung suspended in the air came crashing down around him, Noah Puckerman faded from existent.
Rating:PG
Characters/Pairings: Noah “Puck” Puckerman and father Puckerman
Spoilers: none
Summary:Noah was six when he held his first guitar.
Word Count:1,032
Author’s Notes: Done for gleeverse’s ‘Jar Of Hearts’ Challenge. Inspired by this image. The relationship between Puck and his father is one I’m completely fascinated by, I just feel like there is so much potential to explore; curse you show for never giving us more details on this back-story or giving Puck a REAL storyline he as the potential for so many great ones!!. Anyway I hope you enjoy this bittersweet moment between father and son I certainly had fun writing it. ♥
Puck, no that wasn’t right; Puck hadn’t come to being just yet. Noah was six when he held his first guitar. Smooth and cool against his palm he remembered the electricity that passed through him, as his hands ran over the polished wood. His father had sat behind him, arms reaching around him, maneuvering his fingers over the neck of the guitar.
Even now, years later, Puck still didn’t know what had prompted his father into waking him up for a spontaneous midnight jam session and in doing so broke the only rule he ever enforced. Don’t touch my guitars, not ever! He supposed there was a connection to large quantities of alcohol and a gig going extremely well. Whatever the reason Puck was both forever grateful and bitter. It had given him one of the very few fond memories he had of his absent father but at the same time had made the hole much darker.
“This is A major.” his father had pressed their joined fingers down firmly against the neck strings. “You use your right hand to play the chord, like this.”
Using his right hand, he strummed his fingers against the strings; the musical sound flooded the room. Noah mimicked his father but his motion was timid and only produced a faint hum.
“You’ve got to play like you mean it,” his voice was stern, like the sound his son had just created offended him somehow. “It’s not going to give you anything if you pansy around. Try again.”
Noah yawned, his mind was still half asleep, lost somewhere in a dream world and yet he was determined to do this right. This was his chance, a chanced he’d hoped and prayed for; to prove to his father he was worth his time. If he could get this right maybe his dad would take him to one his concerts, he’d been begging for months, or at the very least they’d have more of these musical sessions. This time when he played, his hand moved with more authority; the sound rang out clearly, reverberating around the room. His father nodded his silent approval.
“This,” he repositioned Noah’s fingers. “Is G major.” Although his fingers strained across the breadth of the neck, somehow Noah managed to produce a solid sound. Once again his father nodded and moved on to another chord. They continued on like that, chord after chord, note after note, until they’d covered what seemed like 1000 different finger positions and the sun had begun to peek through the curtains.
After a while his father trusted him enough to hold the guitar that was so dear to him without his hands underneath as a safety net. Moving out from behind Noah he grabbed the nearest guitar, slumping down on a chair in front of the curious child.
“Alright,” he half smirked, “let’s see if you can follow me.” With experienced hands he strung together different chords, making up a small tune. As he played he spoke the chords he was using out loud, as a small guide aid for Noah.
“You try.” He gestured to Noah. Truth be told he hadn’t expected much from his son. He was already shocked and secretly proud they’d made it this far. So when Noah took a deep breath and mimicked his movements with considerable ease, he couldn’t hide the pride in his eyes.
“Good.” The pride he felt emanating from his father made Noah’s heart leap in his chest; suddenly he was wide awake, ready and eager for the next instruction. He shifted excitedly on the floor, the guitar bobbing in his lap.
“Alright don’t get cocky,” his father half heartily chided. Noah smiled, eyes sparkling in the dimly light room.
“Let see how well you can follow this.” Noah watched in wonder as his father began to string together a far more complicated song, his fingers moving fast and steadily against the strings. He lost track after the first 30 seconds, the movements of his father’s hands was much too difficult for his young mind to remember. When he had finished his father looked at him, smirking.
Feeling like this was some kind of test; Noah took a breath and began to play. He didn’t even try to emulate his father’s song, knowing full well he’d fail, instead he closed his eyes and allowed his fingers to move over the strings themselves, jamming to his own tune as he created something that was uniquely him.
When his eyes snapped open, the last notes fading into the early morning air, Noah glanced at his father. He was hoping for a nod of approval, anything that would let him know he passed this last test. What he got was a lot more. In that moment, for the first time in well ever his father looked at him. Really truly looked at him. Like he wasn’t just some kid he happened to share a house with but actually his son. It wasn’t in the same way he’d look at him when someone on the street would say so this is your son.. Or when his mother would point to him and almost scream You have a son you know, he’s right there!. No, this went a lot deeper than a small flicker of acknowledgment. What Noah saw in his father’s eyes was dare he say it…love?
And just like that Noah suddenly saw a lifetime of memories reflecting in this father’s eyes. A tradition of late night jam sessions, nights spent peeking out from behind a dark stage watching his father play to a roaring crowd. He saw himself upon stage, accompanying his father, then alone, the spot light solely on him as his father cheered from the bar. That’s my son, that’s my Noah!. Father and son. They’d be the greatest team the world had ever known and as his father ruffled his hair, lips curling upwards in an almost smile, Noah knew he saw it too.
Four months later when a door slammed shut and a silhouette disappeared into the night, the veil of dreams that hung suspended in the air came crashing down around him, Noah Puckerman faded from existent.