The Longer Road to Appletown
Canon as of 4x10 about how a few more WMHS alumni make it or don't make it to New York, this was meant to prove to myself that I could write a speculative one-off short story. The characters featured are Finn, Santana, Puck and the guy with the haircut. My lovely beta, wood-u-like-2-no, insists I've failed and this is the first chapter of a longer story (which, if it is, will have to wait until The Drumm Set finishes). So, what say you?
Finn contemplated the coloured pens. Should they stay or should they go? They were a gift from the Glee Club as part of his superhero utility belt, but Will Schuester would be able to use them when he got back to resume his place as the club's director. Stalling a decision about the pens, Finn looked around the room. He was really going to miss this place. After a rocky start, a really rocky start, he was leaving them in good shape. They were united, more or less, and they were sounding better and better. Schue would do the rest.
Finn sighed. Most of all, he was going to miss the music. There wasn't a lot of opportunity to think about, choose or arrange music in a tire shop. This was it.
The drums were in the choir room. The band always left their gear here. Finn ran his hand down the neck of one of the guitars before picking up John's sticks. He sat on the drum stool and started to softly tap the skins. As he loosened up and struck harder, he started to sing.
Darling, you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?
If you say that you are mine
I'll be here 'til the end of time
So you got to let me know
Should I stay or should I go?
He stopped, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes.
"You've been listening to one of your mom's Spotify selections again, bro." Puck was leaning against the door of the choir room. "At least it's the Clash and not REO Speedwagon so your cred's intact."
"Dude! Ain't nothin' wrong with REO Speedwagon! They got me into Glee Club." Finn started to rise.
"No. Stay there." Puck walked into the room and picked up one of the electric guitars. He plugged it into the amp and they both flinched at the feedback. Puck fiddled with the settings and then turned to his friend. "Let's do this."
Finn grinned and poised the sticks over the drums, ready for Puck to start. "Hit it!"
Puck rammed his hand down on the strings and played the intro. As Finn joined in with the drums, Puck took the verse that Finn had already sung and then gestured for Finn to take the second. They did the chorus together before Puck took over again with Finn shouting the echo in a mix of English and what Spanish he could remember from the original or Schue's classes. As the song reached its crescendo, it wasn't only the best friends rocking; the pens had jumped off the white board.
"Stop! Stop the cacophony! I've called the cops to demand they arrest the vandals tearing down this school."
"What do you want, Sue?" Finn's tone was weary. Neither he nor Puck was intimidated.
"What do I want? What I want, Moby Duck, is a nursing bra that doesn't chaff. What I want is to expel every kid in this school with body fat. What I want is for Will Schuester to go bald just as his voice breaks leaving him unable to manage more than an annual croak. What I want, most of all, Finn Hudson and Puckerperv, is for you and the other Glee Club losers who keep turning up like my kid's dermatitis to find a life and stop stalking the halls. Teachers get one professional pleasure; seeing the end of you after four years of hell!"
"Or five," a voice behind Sue said drily. Sue whirled round. Santana had taken Puck's former place leaning against the door.
Sue was dismissive. "You don't count, Number One. Assisting me with the Cheerios is God's work. This," she continued, gesturing at the room in general "is the work of Satan on the days he's constipated."
Santana shook her head. "I thought they sounded pretty good. You know what, Miss Sylvester? I want to thank you for the offer, but I'm gonna turn it down because you're right. Stalking the halls of McKinley is not finding a life; it's trying to relive an old one that's never coming back."
Finn and Puck exchanged slightly offended glances but stayed quiet. Sue didn't scare them. Sue and Santana together – that was a different story. They obviously had something going on between them that made the young men invisible.
Santana walked into the room. "I've realised that trying to hold on to Brittany by returning to McKinley, helping you with the Cheerios just to be near her; that's crazy and going backwards."
"Oh, no, no, no, my old Kentucky gnome. You burnt those bridges to Louisville, remember? I need you and you've got nothing without me."
Santana frowned and pondered a moment. "I've got myself and the rest of the world. That's enough."
Finn couldn't help himself. He struck the drums with a flourish to punctuate Santana's declaration of freedom. Sue, her face going redder by the second, turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.
Puck did his own ten-second riff on the electric guitar before suggesting the three of them go celebrate their independence from McKinley High. "I know a place where the doorman is even worse than me at math. I've convinced him that being born in 1995 means you're 21."
On the way out, Finn grabbed the pens off the floor and put them in his pocket.
+...+
The dive bar had a counter along one wall, a stage at right angles to it against another wall, and a room filled with those tiny high tables with two or three tall stools at each. The area in front of the stage was table-free to give those enjoying the entertainment room to dance. That space was currently clear of people despite the band on stage. The three former classmates had seen them dodge a few well-aimed bottles in the course of the evening.
Puck was at the bar, getting refills for himself and Finn. Santana was still nursing her first bottle of Mexican beer. She'd realised early that she was going to have to drive these bozos home.
"You okay?" Finn was looking down at her with concern.
"You've been seeing her everyday. Is she happy, Finn?" Finn didn't need to ask who Santana meant.
"She seems to be," he responded quietly. "I'm sorry." He leaned over and put his arm around her shoulders. "I know how much it hurts. The only thing you can do is acknowledge it and then move on."
She considered him for a moment. "How are you doing? You've got distance. Have you moved on from Rachel?"
"Yes. No. I-I just try not to think about it, you know? Like the song says, love hurts."
"It's a bitch," Santana said, holding up her bottle to clink with his. They sat lost in their own thoughts until Puck reappeared to break the mood.
"What do you think of the band, guys?"
"They suck," Santana said sourly.
"They suck," Finn agreed, "except…." He trailed off.
"The bass, right?" Puck was oddly excited, like a kid with a secret.
"Yeah, except for the bass. He's the only one keeping time."
"Recognize him?"
Finn peered across the room. The lighting was as bright as a moonless night. "No, I don't think… hang on. Is that Scott?"
Puck grinned.
"Who's Scott?" Santana was getting fed up and bored. She was seriously regretting her decision to join the boys on a night out. She had a new life to plan.
"Scott." Puck said, perplexed by her continued blank stare. "Scott Harris, you know, the bassist in the band who played for us for three years; graduated with us; sang with us at Sectionals last year."
"Was that the one with the deaf judges because as I recall it, the Troubletones kicked your asses and were robbed."
"In your dreams," Finn murmured, still staring up at the stage.
"Remember him now?" Puck was getting increasingly agitated. It was funny so Santana shook her head. "God, Santana, did you have your eyes closed for three years? Scott! The kid whose mom put a bowl on his head to cut his hair!"
"She's playing you, Puck."
Santana grinned and held up her hands in a shrug. "You got me." Puck went to slap her head and she dodged it by ducking. "So," she said, "why are you so excited to see Scott? Something you haven't told us Puckerman?"
"No! My heat's packed only for the ladies. Remember?" Santana's lip curled derisively as he grabbed his junk to establish his machismo. "I was here last night. Scott and I had a few beers together. He's been playing all over since graduation, trying to find a good gig. Anyway, Lima sucks – obviously – so he's thinking about starting a new band, a good one. And, bro," he said, regaining Finn's attention from the emptying stage as the band took a break, "he wanted to know if you and I were up for trying out."
Finn's eyes nearly bugged out as his head whipped round to stare at Puck in shock. Finn glanced over at Santana. She was sneering. Before he could form any words, Puck was off his stool, jumping up and down.
"Scott, Scottie, dude! We're over here!"
Scott Harris approached the table and slapped Puck's hand. "Good to see you again, dude. Hey, Finn, Santana."
"Hi, Scott," Finn responded as Santana gave Scott a lazy wave. "That was, um, interesting up there."
"You can say it. It sucked. This is my last night with them, thank God. So, did Puck tell you?"
"Dude, I'm flattered that you asked for me but I can't get involved in a band. I've got a job."
"You cut your hours to get involved in Glee Club," Puck said quickly.
"That was different. That was just for a while and-and they needed me."
"Well, we need you, bro. Besides, I've still got my pool cleaning and Scott's working."
Scott nodded. "MacDonald's. Days. I'm starting to hate kids. This," he added, "is for nights and weekends."
"I don't know." Finn glanced over at Santana. She was enjoying seeing him squirm. Puck ran off somewhere as Scott took his stool.
"Look, Finn," Scott said. "Let's just go up there and try something. Just for tonight if you like. See how it goes."
Santana was incredulous. "What? You three, without any practice or preparation, are just gonna go up there and perform. Oh, this I have to see. What are you going to play?"
"The music's not the problem," Finn said, his worried frown creasing his forehead, "but what about instruments?"
"Bass is mine," Scott said. "The drum set belongs to Jock, who's the one who dragged me into this bunch of amateurs and he owes me. I've cleared it with him that you can use them."
"Really?"
"Yep. And Puck's brought his guitar." On cue, Puck returned with a familiar case.
Santana could see Finn's eyes starting to shine. More out of a desire to see a train wreck that genuine interest, she joined the persuaders. "Go on, Finn. You know you want to. Besides, even though you're all crazy to think that you can do anything decent, you'll still be better than what we've been hearing all night."
Finn grinned. "Just for tonight. And it's not the three of us, it's the four of us. I'm only in if Santana's in."
Three pairs of eyes turned towards her. "What? Scott didn't ask me and I don't want to join some lame band!"
"I didn't know you were in Lima when I talked to Puck last night, Santana," Scott said in his defence. "And there's definitely room for a vocalist as good as you are."
"No way. I'm happy to sit back and mock. I don't want bottles thrown at me."
"Come on, Santana," Finn said. "You miss performing as much as we do. And if anybody throws a bottle at you, you can throw it straight back."
"But we don't even know what we're singing." It was a last-ditch effort, everybody could see that. Santana did like the idea of getting up on that stage.
"I've been thinking about that," Finn said. "Guys, remember when we were rehearsing for Nationals, how Schue had us learn the whole Jim Steinman catalogue? We could do Dead Ringer. We all know it. It doesn't need keyboards and Santana will make a great Cher."
"Brilliant," Scott said. "Let's do it."
"Puck, you take the lead."
"Bro, you did it in Glee…."
From the corner of his eye, Finn could see Santana giving him a thoughtful look. He shook his head at Puck. "Take the lead. It'll sound better coming from you. Besides, you're fatter than me these days. I'll do backup with Scott."
"Okay," Puck said, ignoring the insult. "Don't have to ask me twice."
+...+
When Dead Ringer for Love finished, the applause was sporadic but far more enthusiastic than anything heard after the house band performances. There were even cries for an encore. Scott headed for the bartender to get permission while Puck and Santana put their heads together at the front of the stage. Finn was too busy at the back staring out at the audience and trying to slow his racing heartbeat. He'd got a real kick out of it and that scared him. Scott returned and nodded to the others. Santana approached Finn while Puck talked to Scott.
"I want to do Love Hurts, the Gram Parsons, Emmylou version. With you. You up for it?"
"Oh, Santana, I don't know. That's a bit close to home, isn't it?"
"Finn. A good friend gave me some advice tonight; love hurts so acknowledge it and move on. This is a chance for both of us to acknowledge it. Don't be a hypocrite. Besides," she said airily, "you've avoided doing a real duet with me for years because you were too chicken to find out how much I'd own your ass. It's time to show some spine."
Finn stared at her a moment and reluctantly, almost imperceptibly, nodded his head. Santana nodded to Puck and Scott but stayed by Finn at the drums, her arm resting across his shoulders. It was an awkward arrangement on stage so Puck and Scott moved back, creating a new foreground for the vocalists. From the darkened area at the very back of the stage, Puck picked out the guitar intro. Finn and Santana started to sing.
Love hurts
Love scars
Love wounds and mars
Any heart
Not tough
Nor strong enough
To take a lot of pain
Take a lot of pain
Love is like a cloud
Holds a lot of rain
Love hurts
Mmmm, love hurts
Finn could feel the slow tears descending his cheek. He ignored them, concentrating on keeping the beat and keeping his voice steady. A quick side-eye at Santana showed that she was no less affected.
I'm young
I know
But even so
I know a thing
Or two
I've learned from you
I've really learned a lot
Really learned a lot
Love is like a stove
Burns you when it's hot
Love hurts
Mmmm, love hurts
It was a static performance. Santana hadn't moved throughout the whole thing and her arm was still on his shoulders, light to leave him free to drum, but constant. It was reassuring. He was vaguely aware of the room's silence, as if all he could hear were the instruments, his voice and hers. It must be something to do with being so deeply into the performance that blocked out the noise.
Some fools think of happiness
Blissfulness, togetherness
Some fools fool themselves, I guess
But they're not fooling me
I know it isn't true
Know it isn't true
Love is just a lie
Made to make you blue
Love hurts
Mmmm, love hurts
As Scott and Puck played the instrumental, Finn realised that he didn't think the audience was silent. It was silent. He was pretty sure that wasn't a good thing. He didn't care. His emotions had hold now and the audience blurred as fresh tears filled his eyes.
Love hurts
Mmmm, love hurts
Ahhh, love hurts
There was no reaction at first. Puck and Scott looked at each other with a frown. There were at least three heartbeats before the applause came and when it came, it was overwhelming. Finn was blind to it all. He stood and hugged Santana, trying to wipe away the tears streaming down his face at the same time. Hers he could feel against his chest. Puck and Scott stepped forward to take the bows.
Later, they decided on their name. The Llosers.
+...+
They played five nights a week at the dive bar for a month. That's when the cops finally shut the place down for good. Other venue owners offered them work and they attracted something of a local following and better money. Puck was in heaven with all the female interest and even shy Scott was never short of a date. A lot of girls were crazy for Finn and a lot of guys were hot for Santana. Both sets of their fans were always shut down and left disappointed.
"I am definitively only doing this until I go to college in September."
Santana and Finn were in the back room of the Jazz Club, storing away the instruments which now included the keyboards they'd bought with their earnings. Scott could play and Santana was taking lessons. They'd finished their set and left Puck and Scott in the front to handle the plaudits and get the cash.
"You say that every week, Santana."
"So do you, Mister Four-Months-To-Go!"
Finn sighed. "I know. Are we trying to convince the others or ourselves?"
"I don't know. This is fun but it's like, it's not taking us anywhere. Besides, if I see one more hot chick make for Puck, I'm going to scream. Where are all the lesbians, damn it?"
"Not an expert, sorry. What happened to Cheryl, that bartender at Sparks? I thought you two were going out."
Santana shrugged. "She snores and eats yoghurt in bed."
"Wow. You're tough to please. Well, Is She Really Going Out With Him? worked for you that night. We can put it back in rotation."
Santana nose wrinkled. "Yeah, maybe. I like the song but you can see the faces. Guys think I'm suggesting three-in-a-bed and get even more obnoxiously persistent."
Finn laughed. "Maybe we need another song. Is there a lesbian anthem that could pull them in?"
"We should be writing our own stuff anyway. We could write one. Well, you could."
"Me? Why me?"
"You wrote Pretending. I wrote Trouty Mouth. You do the math."
Finn was glad that she didn't stumble over the name of the song she had written, given that its subject was now with her beloved ex. "Santana, I wrote that in a panic and besides, it was about Rachel." Santana's brows were raised in their best "so what" position. She was right. If she could get over that Trouty Mouth was about Sam, he could get over Pretending being about Rachel. Maybe he should try again, except…. "I don't know anything about lesbians."
"No truer words have been spoken."
"So, I can't write-"
"You can write about love, Finn. Love is love. Do that. Give me something I can use to seduce the prettiest girl in the room. And do it fast. We've only got until September."
+...+
"Three options. First, we quit and you two go off to college. Scott and I can carry on with a new drummer and vocalist if we want to." Finn and Santana remained silent. Puck continued. "Second, we say yes to the invitation to audition for X-Factor." Everybody wrinkled their noses and shook their heads at that. "Third, we all commit to the band, take the record deal and go to New York."
The four of them were in Breadstix, the drinks in front of them untouched. Whether the waitress was hovering for their food order or for something else was unclear. Finn groaned when an instrumental version of Shoot the Moon came over the restaurant's speakers.
Finn had written it for Santana and he had to admit it was a good song. He'd done it the night she asked him to, finding the words and the music, sitting alone in his room at home. The first time Santana sang it, a week later, the crowd went wild and Santana met a girl she liked. The second time, somebody recorded it and loaded it onto YouTube. The third time Santana sang it, the night after the second time, it had over a million views. Three months down the road, the song was everywhere. Finn had credited the band with writing the song and they'd shared the profits equally. With the number of authorisations sought and granted to others to cover it, those profits were significant, enough for both Puck and Scott to give up their day jobs. It wasn't enough for much more than a year of real life unemployment even if royalties could continue for years to come, but it did give them a year.
For all the song's success, they'd officially recorded nothing themselves. They'd had offers but with Finn and Santana both prevaricating, they'd postponed action and it had probably hurt them not to take advantage while the iron was hot. Even now, the future was insecure. Finn had written a couple more songs, as had various combinations within the band but none of them took off like Shoot the Moon. There was no guarantee he or the others could hit gold again. So many people had covered Shoot the Moon, any single they released could fail not least because people would be sick of it by then. The music industry was such a mess anyway that even if they were initially successful, it could blow up in their faces very fast. They might face a life of touring every venue in the country just to make a decent living. If they remained a one-hit wonder, even that wouldn't be an option.
This was the discussion. Decision time. Puck was acting chairman.
"So, Scott?"
"You all know. Option three. I want to stay in music and, if the Llosers split, I'll be looking for another band." Scott shrugged.
"Okay. I'm the same so it's down to you two."
Finn and Santana looked at each other. "Ladies first," Finn mumbled. It was cowardly but he wanted to hear what she was going to say. If she wanted to leave, that settled it anyway.
+...+
Santana glared at him, knowing what he was doing. She shook her head and turned back to the other two. She let out her breath. "I've already blown off a scholarship. Delaying going to college another year, it just seems like such a bad idea. I don't want to be the only law student on a pension. I've loved doing this. I want to keep doing it. I want both!" She paused and took a long sip of her iced water. "I can't have both but I also don't want to look back and regret that we didn't at least try to make it." She paused again. "And college will always be there. I say… we go to New York."
Puck yelped and threw his fist in the air in a victory punch. Scott was grinning ear to ear. The waitress came close. "Is everything all right? Are you ready to order?"
"Not yet, sweet thing," Puck said smoothly. "Still don't know if it's champagne or bitters. Give us a few, would ya?"
+...+
The waitress nodded and backed away. Finn felt the pressure as his three band mates turned their gazes on him.
"So, Hudson. I gave you your extra couple of minutes by going first. No more evasion. What's it gonna be?"
"Shit."
"That's a good start," Puck said morosely.
"You guys know drummers are easy to replace right? I know for a fact Puck's seen Spinal Tap sixteen times." They'd watched the movie together and had arguments about the value of drummers. Finn knew Puck wasn't dismissive of the skill but he couldn't stop himself putting a decision off. New York was a place where he didn't fit. Why would it be any different now?
"Come on, bro! What's keeping you here? Burt's already said he's cool with you leaving the business. And if we crash and burn, you can always go back to it or, like Santana said, go to college, become a teacher or whatever. You've got nothing to lose!"
Finn didn't respond.
Santana's eyes narrowed. "This isn't about a record deal or postponing college, is it? This is about New York. Oh my God! This is about Rachel fucking Berry!"
"No!" Finn realised he'd shouted. He mouthed apologies to some of the startled diners and lowered his voice. "No," he said firmly. "It's not about Rachel. It's about not fitting in there. I didn't like New York. It's too big, too impersonal, too loud. It's like a nightmare."
"Bullshit," Puck said. "You loved New York when we went there for Nationals. Santana's right, this is about Rachel. Dude, you don't ever screw up your life for a girl. Bros before hos, man!"
+...+
Santana stiffened in her seat and glared at Puck.
"What? I'm right."
"Puck, go to the bathroom. Scott, go with him."
Scott was startled but Puck was outraged. "No way! We're not girls!"
"Don't I know it. Go. Now." Her tone brooked no argument. Puck opened his mouth to argue but Scott shook his head. Puck grunted and got up, making space for Scott to do the same. Puck pushed Scott towards the restroom and counted to five while exchanging glares with Santana before following.
Once alone with Finn, Santana spoke quickly and urgently. "Finn, it wasn't the city that you didn't fit in, it was Rachel's life. You know it, I know it and those two idiots know it. You have a place in the city with the very aptly named L(ima)losers. The city will get real small real fast once you're there doing what you love doing because you'll have found your place. So, what do you love doing? If it's pining for Rachel, then stay here. If it's music, then this is a chance you'll never get again. Now, I'm going to go find some privacy so I can call my girlfriend and tell her stop packing because we're apparently not going. I'm only in if you're in." Finn opened his mouth to say something but Santana forestalled it. "Think hard, Finn."
Santana shifted her body out of the booth and stood beside him. "Make your mind up. Move on or stagnate. Don't let you taking me down with you affect your decision." She left him alone at the table and headed for the back of the restaurant.
Puck and Scott were waiting for her.
"So?" Puck was impatient.
"I swear that ape's thinking process is slower than a snail on barbiturates. Wait. Give him time. Let my blackmail work. If it doesn't, you have my permission to try violence. That's if I don't go all Lima Heights up his ass first. By the way, that air punch was a bit overplayed, wasn't it?"
Puck shrugged. "You told me to act surprised."
"There's subtle acting and there's kindergarten nativity play. That was definitely a bad Joseph. I'm gonna go call Clara. Stay here and keep an eye on him." Santana swept past them and out the back door.
+...+
"This sucks," Scott said quietly.
"He'll come round," Puck replied despite his ebbing confidence. He was staring at Finn so intently that he didn't notice until they took the bench opposite Finn that the Schuesters had entered Breadstix. "Oh, hell. What are they doing here? They're sure to talk him out of it." Puck was dancing from foot to foot, wondering whether to stay or go. "Oh, man, I don't know what to do. Where's Santana?"
"She went outside. Do you want me to go get her?"
"Yeah. Move it!"
Scott hurried out the back door as Puck's anxiety increased. Finn was talking quietly and the Schuesters were in turn nodding and shaking their heads. They could be cool sometimes but at the end of the day, they were teachers and teachers always played it safe. They were bound to tell him to go to college. Puck checked behind him. Scott hadn't yet returned with Santana. Back at the table, Will had stretched out his hand and taken Finn's. As Mercedes would say, oh, hell to the no.
Puck bolted to the table. "Hi, Mr. Schue, Mrs. Schue. How's it going?"
"Hello, Puck. Good to see you. Finn's been telling us about your opportunity."
"Yeah," Puck said, casting a glance down at Finn whose head was bowed. He felt movement behind him. Scott and Santana had finally appeared, slightly breathless. Puck tried to play it cool. "We haven't decided what we're doing yet. Being responsible adults who can make our own decisions, you know, we're really thinking it through."
"Well, that's really good to hear, Puck," Emma said. "See, Will, it's all very well advising Finn to go to New York, but somebody's got to be sensible." She grinned up at the flabbergasted trio.
Puck stared at Schuester. "I thought you'd tell him to stay in Lima."
Will shook his head, barely smothering a laugh. "No. I said he should go. And when did I ever tell you all not to follow your dreams?" Will chuckled. "Your attention span still needs work, Noah. But enough." He looked at Emma and they slid off the bench. "I can see you're all still thrashing this out so if you'll excuse us, Emma and I came in for a quiet dinner and that doesn't include all of you. Finn, you know where I am if you want to talk."
As Emma and Will left them, Puck called out. "Hey! I listened!" as Scott and Santana retook their seats. As Puck sat down, he saw his fellow conspirators gazing at him with raised brows. "Sometimes," he added. Finn hadn't looked up throughout the whole exchange.
Santana snorted. "Oh, stop with the drama, Finn." Santana had obviously had enough of the charade they'd planned to bring Finn round. Puck saw her poke Finn hard in the ribs with her elbow. "Make a decision."
Finn finally raised his head, compressed his lips and nodded slowly. "Should I stay or should I go?"
Puck readied himself to punch his friend.
Finn grinned and held up a hand to ward off the blow. "All right, all right!" he said laughing. "I go."
Credits:
Should I Stay or Should I Go written by Topper Headon, Mick Jones, Paul Simonon, Joe Strummer
Love Hurts written by Boudleaux Bryant
Reviews are welcome as are opinions as to whether I'm right or wood-u-like-2-no is right.