FIC: What's the point of being Popular (if you can't do what you want?), Sam/Puck, PG-13 (This chap)
Title: What’s the Point of being Popular (if you can’t do what you want?) (1/??)
Pairing,Character(s): Sam/Puck (eventually)
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Spoilers: Follows on from the end of Season Two, after the summer
Summary: Puck wants to support Quinn, but he just doesn’t know how to do it.
A/N: So this is based completely on canon up till the end of season two and kicks off at the end of the summer. Title comes from 'Duets' when Quinn is explaining to Sam why she sticks with the glee club, even though she is the head cheerleader.
Huge thanks to Hey_doey_doey for her advice, and if you haven’t read her fic ‘No Surrender’, then what the hell are you doing here? - All feedback welcome & appreciated ^^
The gravel drive dug into Puck’s bare feet as the cold night air bit his bared chest. He hurried to do up his shirt, but the buttons were slippery and when the first attempt failed he roughly pulled each side across himself, burying his hands in his armpits for warmth as he ducked his head. His feet were already freezing, but going back for his shoes didn’t cross his mind. Everything had happened so fast that he was still trying to catch up - and he kept walking, as fast as he could. It wasn’t far back to his home from Quinn’s house; that was why he’d left his car behind. He gave himself a mental kick in the head for not thinking everything through more carefully.
When he did get home the kitchen light was off, which either meant his mom hadn’t made it home from her late nursing shift yet, or she was trying to catch a few hours sleep. He tried not to make too much noise coming in, just in case. Finding his way quickly to the bathroom in the dark he ran the shower hot, stripping off his dew-ridden jeans and dress shirt and dumping them in the hamper, jumping into the shower and rubbing his body to get some feeling back into it.
Once he was warm again his thoughts started to resume some coherency. He wasn’t sure he understood everything that had led up to that moment, but he did know that his attempt tonight to make Quinn feel valued again hadn’t gone smoothly.
The summer had been full of video games and movie nights with the boys, and one party at Santana’s house, but all Puck remembered of that was watching Santana make out with Brittany. He was pretty sure Quinn hadn’t shown; as far as he knew, she was doing the same thing he was: closing herself off and working through some of the things that must be in her head. Beth would have turned one year old just after the last glee club meeting of the year, before the summer began - and he knew Quinn hadn’t forgotten because he’d texted her with the only thing he could think of, some sappy symbol for a hug - and she had responded in kind. They didn’t talk about it but they were both in pain.
Quinn had shut herself off in the mansion that her mother had kept in the divorce, and Puck had taken to blowing Finn to pieces in Halo. He lathered soap over his pecs and put his face into the blast of hot water, remembering how she’d come to his door three days ago, the week before school started out again, and looked at him through her lashes with her beautiful dark eyes, and asked him to make her feel like herself again friday night.
The timing worked for Puck - his little sister stayed with their father every weekend (always ‘father’, never ‘dad’) - which meant he could go out to dinner without worrying about a babysitter. He had been excited. It was his chance to remind Quinn how incredible she was, to show her that even though they both knew they wouldn’t work romantically, that he still cared about her very much... and that their lives were always going to be deeply connected, even though that connection was very painful.
Getting out of the shower, the cold air sent a shiver up his back as he grabbed his towel and roughly drew it back over his ‘hawk. He’d let it grow out a lot over the holiday and was starting to feel soft and a little wavy instead of short and bristly. Quinn had commented on it. Puck couldn’t decide if he should shave his head back or not.
He’d shown up at her door exactly on time, told her how beautiful she was (it wasn’t just manners), and explained that he wanted them to walk down to Breadstix. It was about a forty minute deal and Puck had thought it was a stroke of genius: a wordless message that he cared, wanted to spend alone time with her that had zero possibility of being interpreted as a come-on. He wasn’t even sure the whole outing was a ‘date’ so much as a reminder of... their shared connection. Of Beth. Maybe they’d do this once a year, they could do it for her birthday...
Puck shook himself, hung his towel on the back of the door and grabbed a pair of stripy boxers from the basket next to the hamper. He’d need to remember to do laundry tomorrow so that he’d be all set for school; his mom wouldn’t have time this weekend after work and shopping and sorting out his sisters primary school things.
Ducking down the corridor into his room, Puck wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do for Quinn now. He’d tried his hardest to be a gentleman... maybe he just... couldn’t. Maybe when girls looked at him, all they could see anymore was the punk, badass, pool-cleaning ex-juvie ex-father almost-dropout. Maybe that really was all he had left.
Maybe they really thought he didn’t have anything else to offer than a tumble. He grimaced. He didn’t think he’d supported Quinn the way he was supposed to. In the end, she’d invited him up, he’d sat on her bed... maybe he was supposed to have kept objecting, maybe he wasn’t supposed to lose himself in the idea that time with Quinn could comfort them both. He hoped that Beth was happy now. He wasn’t sure where she was, but maybe that was for the best; he knew exactly where her mother was, had been in her house that very night, and he still couldn’t do a fucking thing to make sure she was okay.
He climbed into his bed and pulled the blanket around himself before realizing he’d forgotten to turn off his desk lamp. He stretched over, exposing as little skin as possible to the outside world. Maybe Quinn would have been better off if he’d just stayed home in bed tonight.
The light off, Puck flipped over and moved his pillow around before bunching up to try and sleep.
#
Getting started back at school was nothing out of the ordinary. Puck had spend the weekend torn between calling Quinn and burying himself in computer games to make the most of free time before school returned. In the end he’d fallen into a sort of middle-route; he didn’t call Quinn, but he never made it to enjoying his free time, either.
Puck shuffled his feet as he walked up to the school from the parking lot, intently avoiding any memory of spending his weekend staring at his ceiling, completely lost about what to do, and feeling totally fucking abandoned.
He was mollified when he realized that the snotty kids around him were actively avoiding his path; summer hadn’t eroded his rep and being a senior sure didn’t hurt his powers of intimidation. Locker assignments had been mailed out in orientation packs the week before, so Puck stopped by the senior corridor and found the beat-up old locker that would be his home away from home for the year, and dumped most of his new books in before snapping his lock on the door. He’d learned in freshmen year that it didn’t matter who you were in this school, the first thing you do - always - is put a lock on your door. On the first day back after summer no one knew which locker was whose and every year there was an underground competition to pull the most creative prank. A grisly underground roulette.
Puck had turned and was about to wander down the corridor to find his homeroom, choose a seat, be he stopped, and thought for a second; he turned back, removed his lock in a familiar twist, and pulling out some of his books, sorting them into a semblance of order on the upper shelf. While he was wallowing over the weekend the fact that this was his last year in high school had started to sink in, and he still had no idea what he’d be doing after graduation. His books sorted, he grabbed one that he was pretty sure had something to do with his first class. Puck relocked and noticed with satisfaction that some previous owner had used a marker to scrawl lurid pics on the inside of the door. If he was going to start actually using his locker, it sure helped that it had some character.
His homeroom was only two corridors over. On the way Puck managed to catch a nerdy-looking junior by the scruff of the neck and scare a set of red and blue pens out of the kid, pocketing them and dismissing him with a snarl.
No matter what resolutions he’d made about keeping on track this year, Puck sure as hell was going to enjoy intimidating the lower year levels every step of the way. Another thing he’d learned in freshmen year? A solid rep is like a solid six pack: you gotta cause some pain to hone that baby to perfection.
#
Puck swung round the doorframe into trusty old G16 for homeroom first thing. It was usually the spanish classroom and Puck hadn’t checked in with the other footballers, or the glee kids, so he didn’t have a clue who to expect in his form. Puck told himself he hadn’t checked because he didn’t care that much - but really it came back to how he’d spent his weekend. Exchanging excited end-of-summer jitters with the others hadn’t seemed appealing while he was stuck in his funk.
Santana had shared his home group two years running, so he was surprised when he didn’t see her in the room. He did a quick scan and apart from a couple of footballers that weren’t part of his crowd, he didn’t really recognize anyone. Digging up his best swagger he made his way to the back of the half-empty room. Senior forms were usually kept pretty small, but maybe not everyone was here yet. Puck usually would’ve gone out of his way to be at least a few minutes late, but he wanted a chance to crack open the book he’d grabbed from his locker, and there was no way in hell that the Puckasaurus was going to be caught reading a book in the corridor.
Dropping into his spot he shrugged his letterman onto the back of the seat. He’d swiped a notebook from a pile of old school stuff he’d found at home, so he felt pretty well prepared for the first english class of the year. The ‘TEACHER:’ field on his timetable for english was blanked out, so he had no idea how who to expect (or how much the class was going to blow), but he figured having the actual book was going to score him points. Not that Puck cared about points.
He flipped the novel over in his hands while he was waiting for homeroom to get started. He wasn’t sure if “ENDER’S GAME” sounded promising or foreboding, but the thing was thick; Puck didn’t usually read too much. He figured it couldn’t hurt to start by getting a summary off the net, just to grease his wheels.
Someone flunked into the seat next to him and he looked up to see the dirty-blond mop of Sam Evans. His hair was streaked with brown (what Puck guessed must be his natural colour), but he couldn’t help noticing that the whole two-tone thing the dude had going looked pretty sweet.
Sam gave Puck an acknowledging raise-of-his-eyebrows. They hadn’t seen much of each other over the break; (or, Puck didn’t have a good memory of the times that they might have), so Puck wasn’t sure exactly what terms they were on... but his default was bro-friendly, so he offered his fist for a bump, which Sam took just as a squat little teacher hobbled into the room.
#
Home group only lasted fifteen minutes, the teacher - an annoying little man wearing what Puck was pretty sure was a wig - checked the roll and read a bunch of messages from a sheet. Football was resuming straightaway with tryouts on tuesday and thursday (returning team members, then the newbs). All the other school clubs would stick to the usual routine of holding signups first week back and auditions the second. Puck wondered whether Mr Shue had been able to coordinate Glee club with football practice, because he really didn’t want to choose, and Glee club had always had a tuesday rehearsal... he had to remember to check on that.
Sam pretty much looked straight ahead the whole time, which Puck didn’t know how to feel about. He decided that the other dude was a little intimidated, even though Puck’s ‘hawk was less defined, and left it alone.
#
He got to his english class before the bell and spotted some familiar faces. Quinn was in the front row, and Puck could tell she’d seen him come in because she was determinedly staring straight ahead. He felt a little stung. He nabbed his regular back-row spot and gave Santana a salute. She just raised an eyebrow, flicked her eyes in Quinn’s direction and looked back at him, tilting her head just slightly to the side. This was something they’d been doing for years, having full conversations across rooms. They had usually used their powers to arrange hookups, but today Puck lowered his eyes a little, gave a tiny shrug and leant back in his chair, making himself look small. Santana repeated the eyebrow raise and turned back to the front. Puck wondered if maybe she’d be able to find out what Quinn’s deal was - but he doubted she’d tell him, even if she managed it.
The bell rang out and after a couple of seconds Miss Holiday strolled into the room and leaned back onto her desk. Puck sat up and forward, wishing for a split second that he’d sat closer to the front before physically shaking himself off. Miss Holiday was competing with Schuster for the number one spot on his short list of teachers who didn’t blow. She looked right at him and gave him a tiny smirk that Puck knew was her way of saying, ‘This is english, Puckerman. Out there, you might be the top dog - but in english, you’re my bitch’. Or the teacher translation. Puck found he didn’t mind at all.
“So, senior year, how cool is that?” She pushed herself off the desk and started chalking her name on the board. “Most of you know me, but none of you know senior year. This thing is going to make or break you-” she glanced at them over her shoulder “-and you’re going to need all the help you can get. Remember to ask for it when you need it and you’ll be fine”. Puck noticed that under her name she’d put up her twitter, Skype and email address.
“So, good news! I’m your brand-new, bonafide, full-time english teacher for the year!” She let them cheer a little before holding up her hand to quiet them. Incredibly, it worked. “So who’s got our book?”
Miss Holiday borrowed a copy from one of the kids in the front row (it might even have been Quinn) and held it up, looking sideways at it and weighing it in her hand.
“Guys, this book is pretty big” - the students groaned. Puck couldn’t help but smirk; she was playing them like a freakin’ violin. “Yeah, it’s big, and it’s gonna take us some energy to get through it, but there’s an upside,” she smiled, and whispered conspiratorially: “This thing is full of like, battles, between armies run by kids just like you. And it’s like, in space.”
Okay, that got Puck’s attention. Not so much the space thing, though he would totally grant the appeal - like, zero-gravity battles? Kickass!
“So!” Miss holiday brandished the book and opened it with a kind of dramatic flick of her wrist; “Let’s have someone to start reading the first couple of pages to get us going.”
Puck didn’t volunteer, but he sure was listening. English was going to be epic this year.
#
Monday was passing pretty quickly. The school was still waking up after the summer. During lunch Puck wandered down the clubs corridor to sign the football roster for the next days tryouts, and the Glee list was up so he threw his name on it as well. He was careful to leave a few blank lines between his own name and Rachel’s; no reason to seem overeager.
“Write mine up too, could you?” Sam had appeared by his elbow as he was finishing. Puck chucked Sam’s name up right under Rachel's, giving himself a mental pat on the back and adding spy-college to his list of ideas for next year.
“So,” Puck pocketed his pen and turned to give Sam a clap on the shoulder. “Looks like we’re sticking together in home group, can’t say I want to associate much with the other losers there.”
Sam frowned, crinkling his forehead as he thought over what Puck had said. “That makes me like... less-losery than the others?” A little smile played over Sam’s lips and he looked satisfied with himself.
“Big achievement. But sure, if you like. Did you hit the football signup sheet yet?”
“Actually no... I’ve been thinking about that. Like, maybe... football isn’t for me, this year. Senior year and everything”. Sam scratched the back of his neck as they fell in step, walking towards the quad.
“Dude, you’re going to need football to give you something to do other than study all the time. Besides, in a fair tryout you’re gonna cream Finn for the QB slot. Easy.” Puck went to slap Sam on the back, but he thought better of it. He was acutely aware of his physical contact with Sam and he didn’t want to overdo it.
“I just don’t know if I’ll be getting on with the team that much this year, like, after everything that happened with Kurt before summer.” Sam was keeping his eyes pretty low with his hands shoved into his letterman, and Puck got the impression that Sam had other reasons to avoid football.
“Just think about it dude. It’d blow for you to bow out.” Pucks stomach was clenched uncomfortably; he felt strangely intense about the idea of Sam not being on the team with him. Running a hand through his hair, he looked around the quad and spotted Finn talking to some people. “Anyway Evans, I’ll see you whenever.” Puck held out his fist for another bump, and Sam looked at it strangely for a split second before bumping back. Puck felt a little jolt when they connected, but he didn’t know what it meant; he might have imagined it.
“Later.” Sam said, and wandered in the opposite direction. Puck looked after him for a couple of seconds wondering where he’d go... he had wanted to hang out with Sam properly but he hadn’t known how to make it seem natural. He pinched himself; he was becoming such a pussy.
#
The rest of the school day wasn’t a big deal for Puck. He managed to catch up with Finn and some of the other jocks at lunch, but he hadn’t seen Sam again, and he hadn’t heard any info on the possible collision between Glee and football practice.
He wasn’t feeling all that social, and his afternoon was nothing too special. He was happy just to get home and collapse on the couch.
Somehow, even though school had been no big deal, Puck felt completely drained. Quinn had been in the back of his mind all day, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to talk to someone about what was happening.
She had asked him to take her out, asked him to be there for her and show her she mattered and comfort her, and he had tried as best as he ever knew how. He owed her that and a lot more. But it was like... she got what she wanted, and she kicked him out. Without even giving him a chance to get dressed again. Hell, she still had his favorite sneakers.
He was a little worried about her. Worried that he’d done something totally wrong and stupid, but she was acting like he didn’t exist and he didn’t know how to talk to her. Plus, he was pretty sure if he talked to someone else and she found out then it would make things even worse.
Puck rubbed both his eyes in frustration and looked blearily at the TV - there was nothing on this time of day except his sisters cartoons. He dragged himself up and dumped his stuff in his room, not sure what to do with himself; so he pulled out his homework. Even homework had to be better than feeling so uncomfortable in his own skin.
Pairing,Character(s): Sam/Puck (eventually)
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Spoilers: Follows on from the end of Season Two, after the summer
Summary: Puck wants to support Quinn, but he just doesn’t know how to do it.
A/N: So this is based completely on canon up till the end of season two and kicks off at the end of the summer. Title comes from 'Duets' when Quinn is explaining to Sam why she sticks with the glee club, even though she is the head cheerleader.
Huge thanks to Hey_doey_doey for her advice, and if you haven’t read her fic ‘No Surrender’, then what the hell are you doing here? - All feedback welcome & appreciated ^^
The gravel drive dug into Puck’s bare feet as the cold night air bit his bared chest. He hurried to do up his shirt, but the buttons were slippery and when the first attempt failed he roughly pulled each side across himself, burying his hands in his armpits for warmth as he ducked his head. His feet were already freezing, but going back for his shoes didn’t cross his mind. Everything had happened so fast that he was still trying to catch up - and he kept walking, as fast as he could. It wasn’t far back to his home from Quinn’s house; that was why he’d left his car behind. He gave himself a mental kick in the head for not thinking everything through more carefully.
When he did get home the kitchen light was off, which either meant his mom hadn’t made it home from her late nursing shift yet, or she was trying to catch a few hours sleep. He tried not to make too much noise coming in, just in case. Finding his way quickly to the bathroom in the dark he ran the shower hot, stripping off his dew-ridden jeans and dress shirt and dumping them in the hamper, jumping into the shower and rubbing his body to get some feeling back into it.
Once he was warm again his thoughts started to resume some coherency. He wasn’t sure he understood everything that had led up to that moment, but he did know that his attempt tonight to make Quinn feel valued again hadn’t gone smoothly.
The summer had been full of video games and movie nights with the boys, and one party at Santana’s house, but all Puck remembered of that was watching Santana make out with Brittany. He was pretty sure Quinn hadn’t shown; as far as he knew, she was doing the same thing he was: closing herself off and working through some of the things that must be in her head. Beth would have turned one year old just after the last glee club meeting of the year, before the summer began - and he knew Quinn hadn’t forgotten because he’d texted her with the only thing he could think of, some sappy symbol for a hug - and she had responded in kind. They didn’t talk about it but they were both in pain.
Quinn had shut herself off in the mansion that her mother had kept in the divorce, and Puck had taken to blowing Finn to pieces in Halo. He lathered soap over his pecs and put his face into the blast of hot water, remembering how she’d come to his door three days ago, the week before school started out again, and looked at him through her lashes with her beautiful dark eyes, and asked him to make her feel like herself again friday night.
The timing worked for Puck - his little sister stayed with their father every weekend (always ‘father’, never ‘dad’) - which meant he could go out to dinner without worrying about a babysitter. He had been excited. It was his chance to remind Quinn how incredible she was, to show her that even though they both knew they wouldn’t work romantically, that he still cared about her very much... and that their lives were always going to be deeply connected, even though that connection was very painful.
Getting out of the shower, the cold air sent a shiver up his back as he grabbed his towel and roughly drew it back over his ‘hawk. He’d let it grow out a lot over the holiday and was starting to feel soft and a little wavy instead of short and bristly. Quinn had commented on it. Puck couldn’t decide if he should shave his head back or not.
He’d shown up at her door exactly on time, told her how beautiful she was (it wasn’t just manners), and explained that he wanted them to walk down to Breadstix. It was about a forty minute deal and Puck had thought it was a stroke of genius: a wordless message that he cared, wanted to spend alone time with her that had zero possibility of being interpreted as a come-on. He wasn’t even sure the whole outing was a ‘date’ so much as a reminder of... their shared connection. Of Beth. Maybe they’d do this once a year, they could do it for her birthday...
Puck shook himself, hung his towel on the back of the door and grabbed a pair of stripy boxers from the basket next to the hamper. He’d need to remember to do laundry tomorrow so that he’d be all set for school; his mom wouldn’t have time this weekend after work and shopping and sorting out his sisters primary school things.
Ducking down the corridor into his room, Puck wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do for Quinn now. He’d tried his hardest to be a gentleman... maybe he just... couldn’t. Maybe when girls looked at him, all they could see anymore was the punk, badass, pool-cleaning ex-juvie ex-father almost-dropout. Maybe that really was all he had left.
Maybe they really thought he didn’t have anything else to offer than a tumble. He grimaced. He didn’t think he’d supported Quinn the way he was supposed to. In the end, she’d invited him up, he’d sat on her bed... maybe he was supposed to have kept objecting, maybe he wasn’t supposed to lose himself in the idea that time with Quinn could comfort them both. He hoped that Beth was happy now. He wasn’t sure where she was, but maybe that was for the best; he knew exactly where her mother was, had been in her house that very night, and he still couldn’t do a fucking thing to make sure she was okay.
He climbed into his bed and pulled the blanket around himself before realizing he’d forgotten to turn off his desk lamp. He stretched over, exposing as little skin as possible to the outside world. Maybe Quinn would have been better off if he’d just stayed home in bed tonight.
The light off, Puck flipped over and moved his pillow around before bunching up to try and sleep.
#
Getting started back at school was nothing out of the ordinary. Puck had spend the weekend torn between calling Quinn and burying himself in computer games to make the most of free time before school returned. In the end he’d fallen into a sort of middle-route; he didn’t call Quinn, but he never made it to enjoying his free time, either.
Puck shuffled his feet as he walked up to the school from the parking lot, intently avoiding any memory of spending his weekend staring at his ceiling, completely lost about what to do, and feeling totally fucking abandoned.
He was mollified when he realized that the snotty kids around him were actively avoiding his path; summer hadn’t eroded his rep and being a senior sure didn’t hurt his powers of intimidation. Locker assignments had been mailed out in orientation packs the week before, so Puck stopped by the senior corridor and found the beat-up old locker that would be his home away from home for the year, and dumped most of his new books in before snapping his lock on the door. He’d learned in freshmen year that it didn’t matter who you were in this school, the first thing you do - always - is put a lock on your door. On the first day back after summer no one knew which locker was whose and every year there was an underground competition to pull the most creative prank. A grisly underground roulette.
Puck had turned and was about to wander down the corridor to find his homeroom, choose a seat, be he stopped, and thought for a second; he turned back, removed his lock in a familiar twist, and pulling out some of his books, sorting them into a semblance of order on the upper shelf. While he was wallowing over the weekend the fact that this was his last year in high school had started to sink in, and he still had no idea what he’d be doing after graduation. His books sorted, he grabbed one that he was pretty sure had something to do with his first class. Puck relocked and noticed with satisfaction that some previous owner had used a marker to scrawl lurid pics on the inside of the door. If he was going to start actually using his locker, it sure helped that it had some character.
His homeroom was only two corridors over. On the way Puck managed to catch a nerdy-looking junior by the scruff of the neck and scare a set of red and blue pens out of the kid, pocketing them and dismissing him with a snarl.
No matter what resolutions he’d made about keeping on track this year, Puck sure as hell was going to enjoy intimidating the lower year levels every step of the way. Another thing he’d learned in freshmen year? A solid rep is like a solid six pack: you gotta cause some pain to hone that baby to perfection.
#
Puck swung round the doorframe into trusty old G16 for homeroom first thing. It was usually the spanish classroom and Puck hadn’t checked in with the other footballers, or the glee kids, so he didn’t have a clue who to expect in his form. Puck told himself he hadn’t checked because he didn’t care that much - but really it came back to how he’d spent his weekend. Exchanging excited end-of-summer jitters with the others hadn’t seemed appealing while he was stuck in his funk.
Santana had shared his home group two years running, so he was surprised when he didn’t see her in the room. He did a quick scan and apart from a couple of footballers that weren’t part of his crowd, he didn’t really recognize anyone. Digging up his best swagger he made his way to the back of the half-empty room. Senior forms were usually kept pretty small, but maybe not everyone was here yet. Puck usually would’ve gone out of his way to be at least a few minutes late, but he wanted a chance to crack open the book he’d grabbed from his locker, and there was no way in hell that the Puckasaurus was going to be caught reading a book in the corridor.
Dropping into his spot he shrugged his letterman onto the back of the seat. He’d swiped a notebook from a pile of old school stuff he’d found at home, so he felt pretty well prepared for the first english class of the year. The ‘TEACHER:’ field on his timetable for english was blanked out, so he had no idea how who to expect (or how much the class was going to blow), but he figured having the actual book was going to score him points. Not that Puck cared about points.
He flipped the novel over in his hands while he was waiting for homeroom to get started. He wasn’t sure if “ENDER’S GAME” sounded promising or foreboding, but the thing was thick; Puck didn’t usually read too much. He figured it couldn’t hurt to start by getting a summary off the net, just to grease his wheels.
Someone flunked into the seat next to him and he looked up to see the dirty-blond mop of Sam Evans. His hair was streaked with brown (what Puck guessed must be his natural colour), but he couldn’t help noticing that the whole two-tone thing the dude had going looked pretty sweet.
Sam gave Puck an acknowledging raise-of-his-eyebrows. They hadn’t seen much of each other over the break; (or, Puck didn’t have a good memory of the times that they might have), so Puck wasn’t sure exactly what terms they were on... but his default was bro-friendly, so he offered his fist for a bump, which Sam took just as a squat little teacher hobbled into the room.
#
Home group only lasted fifteen minutes, the teacher - an annoying little man wearing what Puck was pretty sure was a wig - checked the roll and read a bunch of messages from a sheet. Football was resuming straightaway with tryouts on tuesday and thursday (returning team members, then the newbs). All the other school clubs would stick to the usual routine of holding signups first week back and auditions the second. Puck wondered whether Mr Shue had been able to coordinate Glee club with football practice, because he really didn’t want to choose, and Glee club had always had a tuesday rehearsal... he had to remember to check on that.
Sam pretty much looked straight ahead the whole time, which Puck didn’t know how to feel about. He decided that the other dude was a little intimidated, even though Puck’s ‘hawk was less defined, and left it alone.
#
He got to his english class before the bell and spotted some familiar faces. Quinn was in the front row, and Puck could tell she’d seen him come in because she was determinedly staring straight ahead. He felt a little stung. He nabbed his regular back-row spot and gave Santana a salute. She just raised an eyebrow, flicked her eyes in Quinn’s direction and looked back at him, tilting her head just slightly to the side. This was something they’d been doing for years, having full conversations across rooms. They had usually used their powers to arrange hookups, but today Puck lowered his eyes a little, gave a tiny shrug and leant back in his chair, making himself look small. Santana repeated the eyebrow raise and turned back to the front. Puck wondered if maybe she’d be able to find out what Quinn’s deal was - but he doubted she’d tell him, even if she managed it.
The bell rang out and after a couple of seconds Miss Holiday strolled into the room and leaned back onto her desk. Puck sat up and forward, wishing for a split second that he’d sat closer to the front before physically shaking himself off. Miss Holiday was competing with Schuster for the number one spot on his short list of teachers who didn’t blow. She looked right at him and gave him a tiny smirk that Puck knew was her way of saying, ‘This is english, Puckerman. Out there, you might be the top dog - but in english, you’re my bitch’. Or the teacher translation. Puck found he didn’t mind at all.
“So, senior year, how cool is that?” She pushed herself off the desk and started chalking her name on the board. “Most of you know me, but none of you know senior year. This thing is going to make or break you-” she glanced at them over her shoulder “-and you’re going to need all the help you can get. Remember to ask for it when you need it and you’ll be fine”. Puck noticed that under her name she’d put up her twitter, Skype and email address.
“So, good news! I’m your brand-new, bonafide, full-time english teacher for the year!” She let them cheer a little before holding up her hand to quiet them. Incredibly, it worked. “So who’s got our book?”
Miss Holiday borrowed a copy from one of the kids in the front row (it might even have been Quinn) and held it up, looking sideways at it and weighing it in her hand.
“Guys, this book is pretty big” - the students groaned. Puck couldn’t help but smirk; she was playing them like a freakin’ violin. “Yeah, it’s big, and it’s gonna take us some energy to get through it, but there’s an upside,” she smiled, and whispered conspiratorially: “This thing is full of like, battles, between armies run by kids just like you. And it’s like, in space.”
Okay, that got Puck’s attention. Not so much the space thing, though he would totally grant the appeal - like, zero-gravity battles? Kickass!
“So!” Miss holiday brandished the book and opened it with a kind of dramatic flick of her wrist; “Let’s have someone to start reading the first couple of pages to get us going.”
Puck didn’t volunteer, but he sure was listening. English was going to be epic this year.
#
Monday was passing pretty quickly. The school was still waking up after the summer. During lunch Puck wandered down the clubs corridor to sign the football roster for the next days tryouts, and the Glee list was up so he threw his name on it as well. He was careful to leave a few blank lines between his own name and Rachel’s; no reason to seem overeager.
“Write mine up too, could you?” Sam had appeared by his elbow as he was finishing. Puck chucked Sam’s name up right under Rachel's, giving himself a mental pat on the back and adding spy-college to his list of ideas for next year.
“So,” Puck pocketed his pen and turned to give Sam a clap on the shoulder. “Looks like we’re sticking together in home group, can’t say I want to associate much with the other losers there.”
Sam frowned, crinkling his forehead as he thought over what Puck had said. “That makes me like... less-losery than the others?” A little smile played over Sam’s lips and he looked satisfied with himself.
“Big achievement. But sure, if you like. Did you hit the football signup sheet yet?”
“Actually no... I’ve been thinking about that. Like, maybe... football isn’t for me, this year. Senior year and everything”. Sam scratched the back of his neck as they fell in step, walking towards the quad.
“Dude, you’re going to need football to give you something to do other than study all the time. Besides, in a fair tryout you’re gonna cream Finn for the QB slot. Easy.” Puck went to slap Sam on the back, but he thought better of it. He was acutely aware of his physical contact with Sam and he didn’t want to overdo it.
“I just don’t know if I’ll be getting on with the team that much this year, like, after everything that happened with Kurt before summer.” Sam was keeping his eyes pretty low with his hands shoved into his letterman, and Puck got the impression that Sam had other reasons to avoid football.
“Just think about it dude. It’d blow for you to bow out.” Pucks stomach was clenched uncomfortably; he felt strangely intense about the idea of Sam not being on the team with him. Running a hand through his hair, he looked around the quad and spotted Finn talking to some people. “Anyway Evans, I’ll see you whenever.” Puck held out his fist for another bump, and Sam looked at it strangely for a split second before bumping back. Puck felt a little jolt when they connected, but he didn’t know what it meant; he might have imagined it.
“Later.” Sam said, and wandered in the opposite direction. Puck looked after him for a couple of seconds wondering where he’d go... he had wanted to hang out with Sam properly but he hadn’t known how to make it seem natural. He pinched himself; he was becoming such a pussy.
#
The rest of the school day wasn’t a big deal for Puck. He managed to catch up with Finn and some of the other jocks at lunch, but he hadn’t seen Sam again, and he hadn’t heard any info on the possible collision between Glee and football practice.
He wasn’t feeling all that social, and his afternoon was nothing too special. He was happy just to get home and collapse on the couch.
Somehow, even though school had been no big deal, Puck felt completely drained. Quinn had been in the back of his mind all day, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to talk to someone about what was happening.
She had asked him to take her out, asked him to be there for her and show her she mattered and comfort her, and he had tried as best as he ever knew how. He owed her that and a lot more. But it was like... she got what she wanted, and she kicked him out. Without even giving him a chance to get dressed again. Hell, she still had his favorite sneakers.
He was a little worried about her. Worried that he’d done something totally wrong and stupid, but she was acting like he didn’t exist and he didn’t know how to talk to her. Plus, he was pretty sure if he talked to someone else and she found out then it would make things even worse.
Puck rubbed both his eyes in frustration and looked blearily at the TV - there was nothing on this time of day except his sisters cartoons. He dragged himself up and dumped his stuff in his room, not sure what to do with himself; so he pulled out his homework. Even homework had to be better than feeling so uncomfortable in his own skin.