FIC: What's the point of being Popular (if you can't do what you want?) 2/??
Title: What’s the Point of being Popular (if you can’t do what you want?) (2/??)
Pairing,Character(s): Sam/Puck (getting there)
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Spoilers: Follows on from the end of Season Two, after the summer
Summary: The school year gets started and Sam is going quietly insane. Find Chapter 1 here
Chapter Two
Sam couldn’t help but slouch as he tried to navigate the crowded corridor. He hadn’t realized the first morning back at school was going to be so out of control. He was preoccupied keeping an eye out for letterman jackets - Sam hoped it was too early in the morning for a slushy facial, but past experience had taught him to be on guard.
Sam didn't know why everything had been so hard to cope with; all up, he had it pretty good - well, until recently - but he still felt completely alone in a strange town. Here he was, first day back at school after a summer of babysitting and delivering pizzas to help prop up his parents, and he didn’t even really have anyone to say hello to.
He found the locker that was supposed to be his and threw his water bottle and other junk in there. He hadn’t been able to buy much of the stuff on his booklist - not yet, anyway. He’d been looking through second hand places whenever he could but he still hadn’t saved enough for the bigger textbooks. He figured he could always use the library. His knew his parents really needed the money he was making. Besides, Sam thought to himself darkly, I’m freakin’ dyslexic. I basically can’t read anyway. He always tried to be upbeat about how well he was coping, but the stress was having an impact on his self-image. He punched the locker next to his. Nobody noticed.
He swore under his breath when he went to close his door and realized he didn’t have a lock for it. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward till his forehead came in contact with the cool metal, and he took a deep breath. No worries, he told himself, I’ll carry my stuff with me today... hopefully people will think it’s a spare locker or something. He roughly started pulling everything out again.
He couldn’t help but remember the year before. He’d enrolled on the third day after the term started and every un-claimed locker had a thick coat of honey on the shelves. He knew a couple of kids were really good at coming up with creative solutions to that kind of thing (a lot of kids at the school had to deal with worse than locker pranks), but he was busy enough trying to fit in. Sam had ended up quietly taking up residence in one of the lockers in the changing rooms. He had to go in there for football anyway, so no one had really noticed - or cared- that he was using it as a general purpose thing.
He didn’t think he’d be able to do that this year. He doubted he’d even be on the football team. Hell, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be.
The last two weeks of summer had been the hardest, after he’d finally caught a break and been able to head to Santana’s summer party. He’d heard a lot of stories that Santana’s parties were kind of epic, so when he didn’t have to work he was pretty excited. Enough time had passed since he’d been with Santana that he didn’t think that would be a thing, and anyway, she had Brittany now. It had stung when he’d realized that she’d only ever been interested in him because Brittany wasn’t available.
Sam grabbed his pack back out of the locker and headed to homeroom - G16, he remembered. He’d have to look around, he didn’t know any of the room numbers and no way was he asking one of the other seniors and being sent to the wrong room on purpose.
Santana’s party had started out okay, he’d scored some beer from the keg and Artie was there so they chilled for awhile. He’d let his guard down a bit and the music was good, and loud, and he was so happy to have a chance to unwind...
After a few more beers he was waiting in line for the bathroom. There had been footballers and cheerleaders and half naked whoevers all over the place, he half-remembered how blurry his vision had been. He hadn’t gotten drunk very often and he was starting to realize he should go easy when some drunk chick - he didn’t even know who it was - she had grabbed him round the shoulders and gone to mack with him.
Sam hadn’t even thought about the implications when he pushed her away. His foggy brain had said, 'Girl; Drunk; Lips; Gross!'. It was only after that he’d noticed the group of jocks behind him in line. It looked like they’d been gearing up to cheer him on. It took a few seconds for them to change track, and Sam supposed they must have had a slot to fill after Kurt had become kinda untouchable because the next thing he heard was ‘Evans is a faggot?’ - from one of the dudes on the football team whom he had *totally* blocked for...
It cut him up. It got him thinking. And questioning. And all around crazy-inside-his-skull.
Sam didn’t know WHAT he was, he was only 17. He had thought Quinn was like, the most amazing girl ever and she’d been so nice to him... until she cheated on me, he reminded himself... and then there was Santana, and Mercedes...
Mercedes. She’d gone on a date with him as summer started, and he’d been so relieved, and he’d been sitting talking to her about everything going on with him and she had just given him this slow, deep look and put her hand over his and been all, “Sam,”, “-you really need a friend right now, and I want to be that for you.”, “You don’t need this relationship stuff getting in your head, it’ll just put more pressure on you”, “I’m not going to be responsible for that”. Meanwhile her eyes had been saying “you need to know what (who?) you want, before you decide who you date.”. Sam’s translation of this was along the lines of: ‘Listen Blondie, I hang around with Kurt a tonne and his gaydar superpowers rub off. You gotta wake up boy: you’re gay.’
Sam kept his head down, glancing at room numbers as he passed them. In a way he adored Mercedes for that - and she had been there for him so much over the break. After the party, the way being called a faggot totally sliced him up, he couldn’t have told her about that if she’d been like, WITH him. It would have been super awkward.
He just knew... Mercedes was right, the footballers were right, and for the past two weeks his heart had been shouting at him: ‘DUDE, if you don’t open up now - this is your SENIOR YEAR! - if you don’t open up now, fight through whatever they throw at you... you’ll never find someone who’ll love you. Not many dudes will even be interested, you gotta start looking.’. He hated himself for feeling so desperate. He shuddered a little.
Sam spotted G16 and made a beeline. His heart was right - his dad had always said, like, ‘follow your gut’, ‘be a man’ - and that’s what he was gonna do. Being back at school made him sure. He’d thought that being around everyone again would make him realize he was being dumb, like, fixating on something just coz his life was so messed up.
He’d thought after he was back for five minutes he’d wake up, that his heart would do a backflip and be all, ‘Dude, whoa! Sorry about freaking out on you before. Chillax, you’re totally not gay. You’re pretty good looking, all the girls want you and you’re actually not bad at football. And like I said, you’re completely not into dudes.’. Being at school though - he realized, maybe summer was what he’d needed to get in touch with himself, like... yeh. Sam shook himself off, looked around and realized he didn’t even know anyone in the room. Then he did a double-take.
He spotted Puck in the back - he’d glanced past him at first, just because - well, the guy was holding a book. Sam he made his way back there and flunked down into the empty desk next to him. He didn’t want to seem too relieved that Puck was there - he wasn’t even sure that he and Puck were on good terms, he could never remember, but he’d always felt a lot safer around Puck.
Well, except when Sam had started dating Quinn, but their relationship going south had actually really helped him get in Puck’s good books. Sam wanted to chat with Puck, but not like, seem too eager - and, oh, what? Puck was offering him a fist bump. Awesome, Sam thought, don’t miss.... Sam figured messing up something so simple would make him seem like even more of a dork, so he really concentrated.
Sam tried again to shake himself up and break out of this mood he was in, but all he kept thinking, underneath, was: ‘Fuck. I am so fucking Fucked.’. He was going quietly crazy, he wanted to just turn to Puck and blurt out the truth. He imagined how that would go. ‘Hey, Puck - you know, I’ve always liked your mohawk. It’s like, the hottest haircut in Glee club.’. Or even better: ‘Puck! Hey man, I heard you used to throw gay kids in dumpsters. Is that still on, coz I was thinking I could get it over with early in the year.’
Sam put his face in his hands, half listening to something about the football club in the notices. Yup, he thought to himself. Sam Evans: going quietly insane.
#
Tuesday rolled around and Sam wanted to just skip the football tryouts entirely. In the back of his head he knew that he couldn’t keep feeling so out of control, that he was going to come out. Maybe soon. Even if it earned him a truckload of trouble.
He knew that once he admitted he was gay, football would be enemy territory. He’d be on a team that hated him, that didn’t watch his back during games, that gunned for him in practice... Sam didn’t want to have to go through that.
All the while, Puck wouldn’t get off his back about it. Lunchtime tuesday Puck came looking for him in the cafeteria.
“Dude, I wanted to offer you a lift home after try outs tonight,” Puck sat, grabbed a quarter of Sam’s sandwich and started munching. Sam smiled at him a little. Puck was treating Sam like a buddy. It was nice.
“I don’t know if I even want to be on the team this year... English is gonna be killer, it takes me ages to get on top of all that reading and stuff.” Sam shuffled his feet under the cafeteria table. There were a lot of things going on around him; people were laughing and chatting... it felt good to be around people again. Part of a crowd. Sam looked up into Puck’s eyes, and he caught the other guy looking at him like he could see that Sam was under some pressure. A softer look than Sam was used to seeing from Puck, anyway. Sam looked away. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be noticed.
“Alright, I’ll strike a deal with you Evans: You come to tryouts with me, starting next week we can start, like, a study session. English is gonna be tough for me too.”
Sam found himself staring. That actually sounded really good - and try outs wouldn’t be that bad, and he did miss football; he was just overreacting again. Plus, he was having to work a tonne harder to keep himself in shape without the regular team practices...
Puck grinned at him as he polished off the stolen piece of sandwich. The guy always seemed to know how to press the right buttons. Sam figured that even if Puck didn’t want to go through with the study thing, he wanted to be around people. Anything to keep him out of that motel room.
#
It wasn’t until thursday that Puck started to notice just how sketchy Sam was acting. He shared a couple of classes with the blond as well as home group, and Sam was skittish. After Puck spent tuesday morning talking him into it, Sam had shown for the returning players football tryouts- but... Puck couldn’t believe it, but he was pretty sure Sam had thrown the session. Like, he had definitely seen the dude play better than that; he’d fumbled the ball, and his throws were just plain fuzzy. Either the kid was trying not to get on the team or there was something seriously confusing his head.
When Puck had tried to talk to Sam after tryouts he’d gotten a brushoff. Now in home group Sam was just acting weird. All Puck could think of was that the thing with Sam’s family must not have gotten any better over the break. It was hard to believe Sam’s parents could have been looking for work every day since spring and still not have had any luck, but Puck didn’t know them and didn’t really care that much. He knew Sam, and he felt bad for the guy. Living any closer to his mom and sister than he already did would have driven Puck mental inside a week. Like, a school week.
He hadn’t made any headway with Quinn and he was feeling more messed up about it every day - there was no way he was going to let Sam go through the same thing. He didn’t know the guy that well, but if nothing else, being there for Sam would be like Puck’s way of throwing a massive ‘fuck off’ to the universe for not helping him out more over the last couple of days.
Damn, he was getting really zen. Too much time in his own head.
“So dude, my house tonight for some halo or whatever?” They had continued sitting together in the back and Puck had leant toward Sam so his voice wouldn’t carry. He figured getting Sam alone would make it easier to get him to open up. The homeroom teacher - Puck had started calling him ‘wiggy’ because he’d never introduced himself - was droning on up the front. Sam gave him a sidelong glance and seemed to weigh the invitation in his head before shaking his head slightly.
“I can’t dude. Thanks, but... I’ve kinda got stuff I need to do. So not tonight, anyway.” Sam got up as Home Group finished and went to find his next class. Puck just sat there. It hadn’t been a flat brushoff; Sam had thought about it before his ‘stuff’ had won out. He was gonna find out what the hell Sam had on his plate.
#
Friday came around and Puck could hardly believe a week in the life of a senior could go so fast. He’d kept using homework as an excuse not to really think about his problems (Quinn was still pretending he didn’t exist), and he’d even gotten drawn into the english book and read a couple of chapters ahead. Puck’s appreciation for the main character had grown when he’d fought off bullies by attacking them with everything he had. Puck just hoped he never found himself in the cross-hairs of someone like that, because the bully in the story had been a painful reminder of his younger self.
He made it to Home Group a little early and dropped into his seat as the room started to fill up. Puck tried not to make a show of watching the door for Sam. Wiggy had started droning on about the days messages when Sam ducked in with his head bowed and sat in the closest free seat to the door. His shoulders were hunched and he didn’t look at anyone. Puck felt his felt fall a little; he’d been happy to see Sam but the other guy had pretty much avoided even glancing at the back row.
As soon as the bell rang Sam was up and out of his seat. Puck wasn’t about to put up with the avoidance game - he was getting it from Quinn, who could pull it off firstly because she was a girl, and secondly because, he was ready to admit it, she was way smarter than him. Sam was looking decidedly less like a girl since his hair was growing out, and Puck reasoned that his avoidance-ability would correspondingly decrease.
Puck didn’t make a scene of chasing the dude through the seniors corridor or shit like that - he was Noah Puckerman, he didn’t chase *anyone*. Puck knew he’d catch Sam out if he was patient; so, at the end of the day, around five minutes till the last bell, Puck excused himself to go to the bathroom. He grabbed his pack, and leant up against the brick wall outside the school.
He figured Sam would be trying to make a quick getaway, and when a blond flash jogged past him out the door Puck knew he could make a hella spy someday. He walked quickly up behind the slightly shorter guy and grabbed at his shoulder, spinning him round fast enough to catch a surprised expression on Sam’s face.
Sam pulled himself clear of Puck.
“Dude? What the hell?”
Puck rolled his eyes. “Sam, there’s something going on, and yeah, I’m making it my business.”
Sam looked right at him in surprise for a second before focusing. He glanced back over his shoulder, as if deciding if he was fast enough to make a break for it.
“Dude, don’t even think about it. Your sprint is shot to hell - we saw that much on tuesday”. Sam winced at that and looked down at his shoes.
“I really don’t want to talk to you Puck.” Sam took a step back and pulled his pack higher on his shoulders.
Puck grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him toward the quad, which would be empty now. He got Sam sitting on the step and he sat down next to him.
“Man...” Sam found his tongue. “What do you want? You caught me, big deal, why do you even care?”
Puck caught the tacit admission that he had been right on the money, something WAS up, but Sam’s question caught him up.
“Just... some stuff went down recently which made me want to make sure I’m there for my friends. Same as anyone would.” Puck suddenly found his shoes (his backups, Quinn still hadn’t so much as looked at him) very interesting. He didn’t want to talk about his problems. “What’s going on man?” His voice came out softer than he intended.
Sam just sort of looked at him. His shoulders slumped and he just seemed to break down a little.
“I don’t think I should really talk to you about it,” Sam’s voice was tiny, Puck barely caught it. He shuffled closer to Sam and rested his hand lightly on his back. “I mean, you’re Puck, you’re hardly someone I would’ve expected sit down and chat about like... stuff... with...” Sam was staring at his shoes as well, and when Puck glanced at his face he thought he saw a blush blossoming on Sam’s cheeks.
“Time to get whatever the fuck it is off your chest Sam Evans.”
Pairing,Character(s): Sam/Puck (getting there)
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Spoilers: Follows on from the end of Season Two, after the summer
Summary: The school year gets started and Sam is going quietly insane. Find Chapter 1 here
Chapter Two
Sam couldn’t help but slouch as he tried to navigate the crowded corridor. He hadn’t realized the first morning back at school was going to be so out of control. He was preoccupied keeping an eye out for letterman jackets - Sam hoped it was too early in the morning for a slushy facial, but past experience had taught him to be on guard.
Sam didn't know why everything had been so hard to cope with; all up, he had it pretty good - well, until recently - but he still felt completely alone in a strange town. Here he was, first day back at school after a summer of babysitting and delivering pizzas to help prop up his parents, and he didn’t even really have anyone to say hello to.
He found the locker that was supposed to be his and threw his water bottle and other junk in there. He hadn’t been able to buy much of the stuff on his booklist - not yet, anyway. He’d been looking through second hand places whenever he could but he still hadn’t saved enough for the bigger textbooks. He figured he could always use the library. His knew his parents really needed the money he was making. Besides, Sam thought to himself darkly, I’m freakin’ dyslexic. I basically can’t read anyway. He always tried to be upbeat about how well he was coping, but the stress was having an impact on his self-image. He punched the locker next to his. Nobody noticed.
He swore under his breath when he went to close his door and realized he didn’t have a lock for it. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward till his forehead came in contact with the cool metal, and he took a deep breath. No worries, he told himself, I’ll carry my stuff with me today... hopefully people will think it’s a spare locker or something. He roughly started pulling everything out again.
He couldn’t help but remember the year before. He’d enrolled on the third day after the term started and every un-claimed locker had a thick coat of honey on the shelves. He knew a couple of kids were really good at coming up with creative solutions to that kind of thing (a lot of kids at the school had to deal with worse than locker pranks), but he was busy enough trying to fit in. Sam had ended up quietly taking up residence in one of the lockers in the changing rooms. He had to go in there for football anyway, so no one had really noticed - or cared- that he was using it as a general purpose thing.
He didn’t think he’d be able to do that this year. He doubted he’d even be on the football team. Hell, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be.
The last two weeks of summer had been the hardest, after he’d finally caught a break and been able to head to Santana’s summer party. He’d heard a lot of stories that Santana’s parties were kind of epic, so when he didn’t have to work he was pretty excited. Enough time had passed since he’d been with Santana that he didn’t think that would be a thing, and anyway, she had Brittany now. It had stung when he’d realized that she’d only ever been interested in him because Brittany wasn’t available.
Sam grabbed his pack back out of the locker and headed to homeroom - G16, he remembered. He’d have to look around, he didn’t know any of the room numbers and no way was he asking one of the other seniors and being sent to the wrong room on purpose.
Santana’s party had started out okay, he’d scored some beer from the keg and Artie was there so they chilled for awhile. He’d let his guard down a bit and the music was good, and loud, and he was so happy to have a chance to unwind...
After a few more beers he was waiting in line for the bathroom. There had been footballers and cheerleaders and half naked whoevers all over the place, he half-remembered how blurry his vision had been. He hadn’t gotten drunk very often and he was starting to realize he should go easy when some drunk chick - he didn’t even know who it was - she had grabbed him round the shoulders and gone to mack with him.
Sam hadn’t even thought about the implications when he pushed her away. His foggy brain had said, 'Girl; Drunk; Lips; Gross!'. It was only after that he’d noticed the group of jocks behind him in line. It looked like they’d been gearing up to cheer him on. It took a few seconds for them to change track, and Sam supposed they must have had a slot to fill after Kurt had become kinda untouchable because the next thing he heard was ‘Evans is a faggot?’ - from one of the dudes on the football team whom he had *totally* blocked for...
It cut him up. It got him thinking. And questioning. And all around crazy-inside-his-skull.
Sam didn’t know WHAT he was, he was only 17. He had thought Quinn was like, the most amazing girl ever and she’d been so nice to him... until she cheated on me, he reminded himself... and then there was Santana, and Mercedes...
Mercedes. She’d gone on a date with him as summer started, and he’d been so relieved, and he’d been sitting talking to her about everything going on with him and she had just given him this slow, deep look and put her hand over his and been all, “Sam,”, “-you really need a friend right now, and I want to be that for you.”, “You don’t need this relationship stuff getting in your head, it’ll just put more pressure on you”, “I’m not going to be responsible for that”. Meanwhile her eyes had been saying “you need to know what (who?) you want, before you decide who you date.”. Sam’s translation of this was along the lines of: ‘Listen Blondie, I hang around with Kurt a tonne and his gaydar superpowers rub off. You gotta wake up boy: you’re gay.’
Sam kept his head down, glancing at room numbers as he passed them. In a way he adored Mercedes for that - and she had been there for him so much over the break. After the party, the way being called a faggot totally sliced him up, he couldn’t have told her about that if she’d been like, WITH him. It would have been super awkward.
He just knew... Mercedes was right, the footballers were right, and for the past two weeks his heart had been shouting at him: ‘DUDE, if you don’t open up now - this is your SENIOR YEAR! - if you don’t open up now, fight through whatever they throw at you... you’ll never find someone who’ll love you. Not many dudes will even be interested, you gotta start looking.’. He hated himself for feeling so desperate. He shuddered a little.
Sam spotted G16 and made a beeline. His heart was right - his dad had always said, like, ‘follow your gut’, ‘be a man’ - and that’s what he was gonna do. Being back at school made him sure. He’d thought that being around everyone again would make him realize he was being dumb, like, fixating on something just coz his life was so messed up.
He’d thought after he was back for five minutes he’d wake up, that his heart would do a backflip and be all, ‘Dude, whoa! Sorry about freaking out on you before. Chillax, you’re totally not gay. You’re pretty good looking, all the girls want you and you’re actually not bad at football. And like I said, you’re completely not into dudes.’. Being at school though - he realized, maybe summer was what he’d needed to get in touch with himself, like... yeh. Sam shook himself off, looked around and realized he didn’t even know anyone in the room. Then he did a double-take.
He spotted Puck in the back - he’d glanced past him at first, just because - well, the guy was holding a book. Sam he made his way back there and flunked down into the empty desk next to him. He didn’t want to seem too relieved that Puck was there - he wasn’t even sure that he and Puck were on good terms, he could never remember, but he’d always felt a lot safer around Puck.
Well, except when Sam had started dating Quinn, but their relationship going south had actually really helped him get in Puck’s good books. Sam wanted to chat with Puck, but not like, seem too eager - and, oh, what? Puck was offering him a fist bump. Awesome, Sam thought, don’t miss.... Sam figured messing up something so simple would make him seem like even more of a dork, so he really concentrated.
Sam tried again to shake himself up and break out of this mood he was in, but all he kept thinking, underneath, was: ‘Fuck. I am so fucking Fucked.’. He was going quietly crazy, he wanted to just turn to Puck and blurt out the truth. He imagined how that would go. ‘Hey, Puck - you know, I’ve always liked your mohawk. It’s like, the hottest haircut in Glee club.’. Or even better: ‘Puck! Hey man, I heard you used to throw gay kids in dumpsters. Is that still on, coz I was thinking I could get it over with early in the year.’
Sam put his face in his hands, half listening to something about the football club in the notices. Yup, he thought to himself. Sam Evans: going quietly insane.
#
Tuesday rolled around and Sam wanted to just skip the football tryouts entirely. In the back of his head he knew that he couldn’t keep feeling so out of control, that he was going to come out. Maybe soon. Even if it earned him a truckload of trouble.
He knew that once he admitted he was gay, football would be enemy territory. He’d be on a team that hated him, that didn’t watch his back during games, that gunned for him in practice... Sam didn’t want to have to go through that.
All the while, Puck wouldn’t get off his back about it. Lunchtime tuesday Puck came looking for him in the cafeteria.
“Dude, I wanted to offer you a lift home after try outs tonight,” Puck sat, grabbed a quarter of Sam’s sandwich and started munching. Sam smiled at him a little. Puck was treating Sam like a buddy. It was nice.
“I don’t know if I even want to be on the team this year... English is gonna be killer, it takes me ages to get on top of all that reading and stuff.” Sam shuffled his feet under the cafeteria table. There were a lot of things going on around him; people were laughing and chatting... it felt good to be around people again. Part of a crowd. Sam looked up into Puck’s eyes, and he caught the other guy looking at him like he could see that Sam was under some pressure. A softer look than Sam was used to seeing from Puck, anyway. Sam looked away. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be noticed.
“Alright, I’ll strike a deal with you Evans: You come to tryouts with me, starting next week we can start, like, a study session. English is gonna be tough for me too.”
Sam found himself staring. That actually sounded really good - and try outs wouldn’t be that bad, and he did miss football; he was just overreacting again. Plus, he was having to work a tonne harder to keep himself in shape without the regular team practices...
Puck grinned at him as he polished off the stolen piece of sandwich. The guy always seemed to know how to press the right buttons. Sam figured that even if Puck didn’t want to go through with the study thing, he wanted to be around people. Anything to keep him out of that motel room.
#
It wasn’t until thursday that Puck started to notice just how sketchy Sam was acting. He shared a couple of classes with the blond as well as home group, and Sam was skittish. After Puck spent tuesday morning talking him into it, Sam had shown for the returning players football tryouts- but... Puck couldn’t believe it, but he was pretty sure Sam had thrown the session. Like, he had definitely seen the dude play better than that; he’d fumbled the ball, and his throws were just plain fuzzy. Either the kid was trying not to get on the team or there was something seriously confusing his head.
When Puck had tried to talk to Sam after tryouts he’d gotten a brushoff. Now in home group Sam was just acting weird. All Puck could think of was that the thing with Sam’s family must not have gotten any better over the break. It was hard to believe Sam’s parents could have been looking for work every day since spring and still not have had any luck, but Puck didn’t know them and didn’t really care that much. He knew Sam, and he felt bad for the guy. Living any closer to his mom and sister than he already did would have driven Puck mental inside a week. Like, a school week.
He hadn’t made any headway with Quinn and he was feeling more messed up about it every day - there was no way he was going to let Sam go through the same thing. He didn’t know the guy that well, but if nothing else, being there for Sam would be like Puck’s way of throwing a massive ‘fuck off’ to the universe for not helping him out more over the last couple of days.
Damn, he was getting really zen. Too much time in his own head.
“So dude, my house tonight for some halo or whatever?” They had continued sitting together in the back and Puck had leant toward Sam so his voice wouldn’t carry. He figured getting Sam alone would make it easier to get him to open up. The homeroom teacher - Puck had started calling him ‘wiggy’ because he’d never introduced himself - was droning on up the front. Sam gave him a sidelong glance and seemed to weigh the invitation in his head before shaking his head slightly.
“I can’t dude. Thanks, but... I’ve kinda got stuff I need to do. So not tonight, anyway.” Sam got up as Home Group finished and went to find his next class. Puck just sat there. It hadn’t been a flat brushoff; Sam had thought about it before his ‘stuff’ had won out. He was gonna find out what the hell Sam had on his plate.
#
Friday came around and Puck could hardly believe a week in the life of a senior could go so fast. He’d kept using homework as an excuse not to really think about his problems (Quinn was still pretending he didn’t exist), and he’d even gotten drawn into the english book and read a couple of chapters ahead. Puck’s appreciation for the main character had grown when he’d fought off bullies by attacking them with everything he had. Puck just hoped he never found himself in the cross-hairs of someone like that, because the bully in the story had been a painful reminder of his younger self.
He made it to Home Group a little early and dropped into his seat as the room started to fill up. Puck tried not to make a show of watching the door for Sam. Wiggy had started droning on about the days messages when Sam ducked in with his head bowed and sat in the closest free seat to the door. His shoulders were hunched and he didn’t look at anyone. Puck felt his felt fall a little; he’d been happy to see Sam but the other guy had pretty much avoided even glancing at the back row.
As soon as the bell rang Sam was up and out of his seat. Puck wasn’t about to put up with the avoidance game - he was getting it from Quinn, who could pull it off firstly because she was a girl, and secondly because, he was ready to admit it, she was way smarter than him. Sam was looking decidedly less like a girl since his hair was growing out, and Puck reasoned that his avoidance-ability would correspondingly decrease.
Puck didn’t make a scene of chasing the dude through the seniors corridor or shit like that - he was Noah Puckerman, he didn’t chase *anyone*. Puck knew he’d catch Sam out if he was patient; so, at the end of the day, around five minutes till the last bell, Puck excused himself to go to the bathroom. He grabbed his pack, and leant up against the brick wall outside the school.
He figured Sam would be trying to make a quick getaway, and when a blond flash jogged past him out the door Puck knew he could make a hella spy someday. He walked quickly up behind the slightly shorter guy and grabbed at his shoulder, spinning him round fast enough to catch a surprised expression on Sam’s face.
Sam pulled himself clear of Puck.
“Dude? What the hell?”
Puck rolled his eyes. “Sam, there’s something going on, and yeah, I’m making it my business.”
Sam looked right at him in surprise for a second before focusing. He glanced back over his shoulder, as if deciding if he was fast enough to make a break for it.
“Dude, don’t even think about it. Your sprint is shot to hell - we saw that much on tuesday”. Sam winced at that and looked down at his shoes.
“I really don’t want to talk to you Puck.” Sam took a step back and pulled his pack higher on his shoulders.
Puck grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him toward the quad, which would be empty now. He got Sam sitting on the step and he sat down next to him.
“Man...” Sam found his tongue. “What do you want? You caught me, big deal, why do you even care?”
Puck caught the tacit admission that he had been right on the money, something WAS up, but Sam’s question caught him up.
“Just... some stuff went down recently which made me want to make sure I’m there for my friends. Same as anyone would.” Puck suddenly found his shoes (his backups, Quinn still hadn’t so much as looked at him) very interesting. He didn’t want to talk about his problems. “What’s going on man?” His voice came out softer than he intended.
Sam just sort of looked at him. His shoulders slumped and he just seemed to break down a little.
“I don’t think I should really talk to you about it,” Sam’s voice was tiny, Puck barely caught it. He shuffled closer to Sam and rested his hand lightly on his back. “I mean, you’re Puck, you’re hardly someone I would’ve expected sit down and chat about like... stuff... with...” Sam was staring at his shoes as well, and when Puck glanced at his face he thought he saw a blush blossoming on Sam’s cheeks.
“Time to get whatever the fuck it is off your chest Sam Evans.”