AN: My first Puckleberry fic. This is a songfic for Hedley's Sweater Song... I heard it this morning for the first time and just had to write this. Hope you enjoy it!
Also... I strongly recommend you listen to the song first before reading... it might make more sense that way.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee... *sad face*

Your Sweater

She said, "Baby, don't leave, be home, stay close, be close to me.
Boy, don't be gone. Boy, don't be gone."

She watched from the bed as he haphazardly threw his belongings into a large duffle bag. He was so sloppy when he packed. Nothing like her, who was always pressed upon by her dads that a neat and tidy suitcase was essential. Wrinkles in your clothes was a big no-no in her household when she was growing up. But he had never cared about such things and just tossed items in his bag as he came across them. Clothes, toiletries and shoes all mixed in together. If it wasn't for the fact that she felt like crying she would scold him for being so messy. But right now she couldn't bring herself to care, she had tried to be strong, had known this day was coming for months now and had pretended like it was no big deal. Like if she didn't acknowledge it, it wouldn't hurt so much to say goodbye. But it was a big deal, and now he was leaving in an hour and she could feel her resolve crumbling. It was only when he had re-entered their bedroom toothbrush in hand that she finally spoke.

He said, "Baby, you know, I gotta run, I gotta go.
I won't be long, Girl, I won't be long."

He stared at her, sitting up at the top of their bed, knees pulled up to her chest, tears rolling down her cheeks, and couldn't help but smile. How did he get to this place? How had she become his and consequently he become hers? He tossed his toothbrush in with the rest of his belongings and sat on the edge of the bed. Pulling her close, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head, before he reminded her that in the grand scheme of things their time apart really wasn't long at all.

She said, "Boy, don't you flirt, and Baby, please just don't get hurt.
And if you feel alone, than here, take my shirt."

She looked up to meet his eyes. He didn't fool her. He was just as upset as she was. And what if he got lonely? What if he strayed? What if something horrible happened and he got hurt? They had never been apart this long before. She wasn't sure she could handle it…and it killed her to think that he might not be able to handle it either.

She got up, went to their closet and returned with a soft white t-shirt in hand.

He said, "Forever, Girl, I know you hate the weather, Girl.
So may be you should hold on to my sweater, Girl."

He chuckled under his breath and smiled that smile he always gives her when he thinks she is being crazier than ever, but also never wants her to stop. He placed her shirt gently in his bag and reached in past the clutter to pull out a grey hoodie from the bottom. He'd learned long ago never to question her during her crazy moments… that it was always better to indulge her and go with the flow. It was going to start getting cold soon and he knew how she hated the strong New York wind. He draped the hoodie around her shoulders, and still holding the sleeves he pulled her in close. She smelled like brown sugar and cocoa butter and he never wanted to let her go.

xoxoxoxox

She ran, picked up the phone, said, "Babe, I miss you, come back home.
It can't be long, Boy, it can't be long."

He tried to call her whenever he could. He knew her schedule off by heart and for once he was thankful she never strayed from it. She knew the times he didn't call he was probably just super busy or wasn't able to get to a phone, but it didn't stop her from immediately thinking the worst.

Sometimes they would talk about what was going on in their lives, how he wished she could have the chance to meet some of the friends he had made (and even lost) along the way, how she wished she could see his face out in the crowd opening night. Sometimes when that was too painful they talked only of their friends. How 'so-and-so' had met someone famous the other day, how 'that guy' had finally popped the question, or how 'those two' were expecting… again. And sometimes they didn't speak at all, perfectly content listening to the soft lullaby of each other's breathing, when everything important, thoughts of the future…of the unknown, was left unsaid but very much felt by both.

He said, "I hate this place, I miss your smile, I miss your face.
I wrote a song, Girl, I wrote a song."

It was during the nights when he missed her the most. The warmth of her body next to his, the smell of her hair under his chin, her tiny hand in his. He'd close his eyes and see her face, the curve of her smile, the glint in her eyes. He needed his sleep, but often instead he would lay awake and dream up lyrics, and melodies that could somehow capture the way she made him feel.

She said, "You make me better, Boy. I just mailed you a letter, Boy.
And, oh, so you know, I'm still in your sweater, Boy."

She carried a camera and a notebook with her at all times when he was gone. So that when she saw something that she wanted to tell him about or had an experience she wanted to share with him she could snap a picture or jot down a note to remind her to include it in her next letter. She took pictures of the moon, of the leaves changing and the snow falling, of their cat, of their friends, of her all alone. There was a photo of everyone at Thanksgiving, a bunch of misfits with the same silly grins and bright eyes that he remembered from high school. The only thing that had changed were some of their significant others, a couple left hands adorned with golden bands, a few new and much smaller, younger faces and one blonde with a particularly swollen belly. On the back of the picture they'd scrawled their names with little hearts and hugs and kisses, and wrote little notes saying they missed him, that they were taking care of her, that they couldn't get her to take off that sweater!

He said, "Girl, don't be hurt, I've sweat a lot and smell of dirt,
But I think I'd feel naked without your shirt."

On his hardest days, his toughest days, his saddest days, he would reach under his pillow and touch the soft white material of her shirt. It still had the faint smell of her laundry soap and perfume and it would always get him through to the next day.

xoxoxoxox

He said, "You're looking great. I'm home, I'm back, I couldn't wait.
Girl, way too long, that was way to long."

He purposely told her that he was coming home a day later than he actually was. He knew she would plan some sort of extravegant celebration with their relatives and friends, but he just wanted one day alone with her before things got crazy. So when he unlocked their apartment door and called out her name he wasn't at all surprised to find that she was completely speechless (an anomaly in itself) to see him standing there. She had messy hair, and no make up on. In fact it looked like she had been cleaning all day… and yet he had never seen anything look so beautiful in his entire life.

And what do you know… she was still wrapped up in his grey sweater.

She said, "Get over here, I crave you close, I need you near.
Now play that song, Boy, play me our song."

She almost looked angry that he tricked her once she got over her initial shock, but that too faded quickly as tears welled up in her eyes and she lunged herself at him. She held him tight and kissed him fiercely, whispering his name over and over as she did so.

Once her eyes dried and her kisses slowed the first real sentence that she uttered was 'Play me our song'. Sure it was funny to him, but he should have known better than to tell her he had written a song and not sing it to her. On several occasions, when she was feeling especially alone, she would pull his guitar down off of it's stand and just hold it. She would press it close to her face and glide her fingers over the strings willing them to speak to her the way that he could make them sing. And sometimes if she listened close enough she swore she could hear his low voice coasting through the air.

He said, "Back to forever, Girl, I hope you endured the weather, Girl.
Now all I want to do is get you out of that sweater, Girl."

He smiled at her and ran his fingers through her hair the way he always did before he kissed her. A kiss to make up for all the missed nights and mornings, for the birthdays and holidays that he hadn't been there for. For all the 'I love you's' that he'd said without being able to show her that he had meant them, and before long she had forgotten all about anything that didn't have to do with him and her and now.

She said, "I love the way you flirt, I'm so glad you didn't get hurt.
Now let me see you naked without that shirt."

AN: Well what did you think? Please leave a review! They seriously make my day!

I did my best to leave this vague so that the reader is left to fill in the blanks. It's really up to interpretation as to where he was going and why and for how long. When I hear that song though I can't help but think of all of the soldiers in the east so that is where my head was at when I wrote this... but it can be different for everyone! I also left it up to you to fill in the blanks as to which friends were doing what. It's just more fun that way. ;) Who did you see meeting a famous person? Finally popping the question? Which two are expecting...again?