It was a boring Thursday the day that Sam Evans knocked on Noah Puckerman's door. The Lima air was chilly that night, and soft winds whipped at his ankles and calves and Sam stood nervously at the Puckerman door. The sky was beginning to dim, and he could barely make out a full moon shining through the layers of huge clouds surrounding above. Sam's heart was hammering against his chest, and it wasn't just the cold getting to him. He was at Puck's house. Puck, the guy who made fun of him for the longest time. Puck, the guy who had recently been assigned his science lab partner and they were supposed to work on a project together.

Puck had given him his number a few days back. Of course he'd expected Sam to do most of the work, but after Sam pried his address out of him, they were both being forced to cooperate together and get the damned project over with. Puck had no true reason to explain his hatred towards Sam, but Sam did. Puck gave him the hardest time for months. But Sam wasn't going to let that affect his already shitty grades. Spending a few hours with his partner wasn't going to kill him or anything.

There was some shuffling heard from the other side of the door, and Sam tugged at the bottom of his shirt, anticipating Puck to scream at him and throw something at him. But before he knew it, Puck was standing there, a hand shoved into his pocket, staring straight at Sam. "Dude, come in, it's fucking cold outside. Mom'll have a fit," Puck said quietly, opening the door wider for the blond to enter.

Sam haphazardly stepped into the house, looking around for any sort of traps Puck had planned. The house seemed cozy and there was a fire burning from the room to his left. The house smelled musky; sort of like alcohol and wood. It was a refreshing sort of smell – Sam could definitely get used to it. He clutched his science textbook and laptop in his hands, following Puck up towards his room.

And holy shit.

His room was possibly the messiest room Sam Evans had ever stumbled upon in his entire existence. There were clothes scattered across the floor and beer cans littering his dresser and bed. Lying in the corner of his room was Puck's most prized possession, his guitar, which he hid in his closet immediately.

"Er, don't mind the mess. I can't be assed to clean up anymore." Puck said weakly.

Sam just nodded and sat on the edge of his long bed, secluded from the mess. There was a gross sort of smell surrounding his room, and Sam could tell it was weed. Disgusting.

"My parents would kill me if I ever kept my room like this," Sam said, trying to start a conversation desperately. "But I guess it suits you. No offense..,"

Puck's only answer was a chuckle before they got to work, Sam doing most of the writing and building of their model of a molecule. Puck eventually pulled out his guitar and strummed a few notes, which made Sam's heart swell immensely. Not many guys were as talented on the guitar as he was, and Puck was a natural.

Before they knew it, the project was mostly finished; just missing a few finishing touches that Sam could take care of. He scooped up the papers and grabbed his bag and textbook before he felt a great tug on his wrist.

"Can you stay? You're actually pretty cool company. I've heard you can play the guitar." Puck said sheepishly, and it was obvious he was still trying to keep his 'tough guy' posture. It was sincere. Sam wasn't used to having people wanting to hang out with him, so how could he resist?

"Sure." Sam resumed his seat next to the mo-hawked boy and listened to the beautiful melodies he was producing from the instrument.

It wasn't until around ten that the boys decided to split. Sam walked down the stairs and stood at the front door.

"So, I guess we can see each other around? I mean, we should hang out again," Puck proposed, looking hopeful.

"Sure, man. Just text or call me whenever." Sam smiled and left the Puckerman's residence with a wide grin on his face. The night went amazing, and now the project was done. And he wanted to hang out with him again! There was a perfect friendship blooming.. and maybe, just maybe, Sam was feeling something a little more.