Author's notes: A little something to show that I'm not dead. I haven't forgotten about Visions either; I'm just trying to get the last two chapters of it written before I post any more of it, and they're being awfully stubborn at this point. In the meantime, have some Puck angst. I've only done two Puck stories including this one, and I just now realized that they're written in very similar styles. Interesting. Enjoy.
The first rule of fight club is: you do not talk about fight club.
It was a code, just between them.
Almost like a secret.
Yeah, lots of people knew about the movie with Brad Pitt and Edward Norton. Hell, some people even knew the book (which Puck thought was better than the movie, but Finn never finished it, so they couldn't compare notes). But if there really was a fight club in Lima freaking Ohio then Puck knew nothing of it.
This was a different sort of club, and not the one you wanted to join.
The second rule of fight club is: you do not talk about fight club.
They'd found the beat up DVD case in Finn's living room wedged over near the couch. They knew they shouldn't be watching it because it said that it was rated R and they weren't anywhere close to seventeen, but no one really followed those guidelines, did they?
That movie changed their lives. At that point in their lives, neither of them had been in a real fight, and if it was anywhere near as exhilarating as Edward Norton made it out to be, then it must be something special. Unfortunately, Finn's mom hadn't been too happy about Puck's broken nose or the purple bruise staining her son's cheek. It had taken weeks to sort that mess out, and even then she gave Puck dirty looks whenever he came over.
Bad influence, his ass. Puck was an upstanding citizen. A fight between friends didn't mean anything. They just wanted to know what it felt like.
But fight club took on a whole new meaning the summer Puck turned eleven.
Third rule of fight club: if someone yells "stop," goes limp, or taps out, the fight is over.
His mom had dated more than a few losers since his dad left, but Puck had never woken up on the kitchen floor bleeding from the mouth before. He looked at the green numbers of the clock above the stove. Eleven thirty. He couldn't hear a thing; not a soul was around.
He painfully lifted himself to his elbows and thought about his next move. He'd had a bad feeling about Steven the second mom had walked through the door with him hanging on her arm, but she'd laughed and smiled and looked so happy that he kept his mouth shut. And Steven really hadn't been all that bad until he moved in.
That's when the arguments started.
Fourth rule: only two guys to a fight.
They were loud and made Sarah really scared, so Puck would allow her to crawl under the covers of his bed and curl of against his side until the shouting died down. Mom's smiles grew more and more forced, and Puck saw the red and purple marks on her arms when he helped her with the chores.
Puck wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what Steven was doing to his mom. He knew that a man should never lay his hands on a woman, and the sounds coming in from just down the hall were anything but that of a happy couple. But he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it either. Not when that terrible anger could very easily turn toward Sarah. His mom was important, but she had chosen the guy. Sarah was innocent. She didn't do a thing, and Puck would be damned before he'd see her get hurt.
But Sarah was gone. Off at Aunt Lisa's. And Puck was lying on the kitchen floor, sore and bleeding, his last memory that of a fist coming right for his face. He knew then what he needed to do.
The house was quiet, dark and still, but Puck wasn't taking his chances. He snatched the spare key from the bowl on the mantle and bolted out the door into the night, not even bothering to grab himself a pair of shoes. The Hudson place wasn't far. He could make it there if he ran fast enough.
Fifth rule: one fight at a time.
Neither one of them was sure when it became a regular pattern, but they both began to use it as an excuse. No one questioned the cuts and bruised skin if you said you'd been in a fight.
Finn would scamper over to the Puckerman place when his mom was freaking out over her newest boyfriend picking up and leaving, and he'd sneak out the window before the sun ever came up, and no one was the wiser. Puck would race over to the Hudson's with black eyes and bruises and looks that said all too much, and they never said a word. How can you tell your best friend that your mom is letting herself get beat up so she doesn't have to sleep alone?
It was 'fight club,' and they knew better than to talk about it with anyone else.
Sixth rule: the fights are bare knuckle. No shirt, no shoes, no weapons.
Soon enough, Finn's mom had decided that dating was simply not her thing. Finn had no reason to continue his late night visits.
But Puck did.
His mom continued to date one loser after another, each one as awful as the last. Most of the time, they just yelled and screamed at each other from the master bedroom, but sometimes the fights got physical. Sarah had learned to sleep through them, but Puck never could.
He knew what was going on just down the hall, and was often too stupid to just stay put. He knew better than to go into the master bedroom, but when his mom was crying like that and some stranger pretending to be his father was parading around the room with that smug air of authority that Puck hated so, so much, there was little he could do to stop himself.
Most of them were careful not to hurt him too bad, and they never used a weapon.
Bruises fade away. Scars are evidence.
Seventh rule: fights will go on as long as they have to.
Puck knew it was too good to last.
He'd been happy for Mrs. H when she met Kurt's dad. He seemed like a genuinely good guy, and she looked happier than she had in years, but things got messed up when Finn had come to him that terrible Wednesday afternoon and told him about the move.
Finn had looked really beat up about it, and they'd been on rocky terms since the whole fiasco with Quinn, so Puck had played nice, been supportive. His mom was happy, and that was what mattered, right?
He would never admit how relieved he'd been when Finn's mouth had run away with him. Kurt was a cool dude and all, but a few slurs thrown around had given Puck back his safe haven. He'd take that over some gay kid's comfort any day.
He'd never really expected Mr. And Mrs. H to get back together again, let alone get married. They were great together, really, but Puck couldn't exactly slip into Finn's room anymore whenever things got too messy at home.
So when he'd shown up on Monday with a shiner like you wouldn't believe, he pointedly ignored Finn and went through his day like nothing was wrong.
He was Noah Puckerman, after all. Supreme badass.
It would take more than a few well-placed blows from his mom's new beau to change that.
And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first time at fight club, you have to fight.
Kurt was not happy to find a disheveled Noah Puckerman asleep on the couch when he wandered upstairs from his room to grab some water. Insomnia was a bitch, and he berated himself for not noticing that Finn's bed had been empty as well when he'd crept up the stairs.
He grabbed the sleeve of Finn's t-shirt and dragged him over to the kitchen, trying to stay as quiet as possible in order to not wake up Puck.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Kurt hissed at Finn once they were out of hearing range. "My dad will flip if he sees him. I know you guys are friends again, and I'm very glad for you, but you know the rules, Finn: no one sleeps over. Period."
Finn's eyes shot over to the couch where he knew Puck was sleeping. "I know, Kurt, but he'll be gone before your dad wakes up. I promise."
But Kurt was indignant. "You can't know that. And what the hell is he doing here anyway?
Finn hesitated. "I do know that. And I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not supposed to."
"Finn Hudson, if you don't tell me right now what the heck Noah Puckerman is doing on our couch in the next three seconds, I'm marching upstairs and getting my dad."
"Wait! Don't. Okay. Um, you just, you have to promise me something first."
Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. This was really getting irritating. "I'm not playing games here, Finn."
"I know. I not either. You have to promise me that you won't tell anyone about this."
Kurt was skeptical, but curiosity gnawed away at him until he relented. "All right, fine. I promise not to breathe a word of your secret affair, no matter how juicy it may be. Now why is he here?" He jerked his thumb in Puck's direction.
"Fight club."
The first rule of fight club is: you do not talk about fight club.