Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I merely used Ryan Murphy's amazing characters to get me out of my writer's block. All typos, errors and overall crappiness belong to me.
"What's going on down there?" Judy Fabray called down from the top of the staircase. She clutched a hand to her chest, her pink satin bathrobe clinging to her figure.
She raced down the steps, worry instantly settling in the pit of her stomach. When she'd first heard the yelling, she'd decided that Quinn was probably watching a movie with Sam downstairs and promptly rolled over, convinced that it was nothing serious. But as soon as she heard the scuffling of footsteps on her hardwood floors, she'd feared the worst. Fights and-and-and… tomfoolery did not happen on Dudley Road. They just didn't!
So, when she saw her youngest daughter, Sam Evans—her daughter's polite, precious, pretty and perfect boyfriend—and Noah Puckerman walking into the living room, things clicked into place.
She hadn't seen Noah Puckerman since summertime. She'd heard about his trouble with the law through the Lima grapevine, but had never pressed Quinn for details. Quinn never said as much, but Noah was special to her. There was something in the way that she'd look at him, her gaze tracing over his masculine features like a sweet caress that convinced Judy that Quinn was more than a little infatuated with him. She refused to pinpoint the precise nature of Quinn's feelings for fear of being averse to her findings, but she knew. Oh, she knew that the feelings were there.
"Quinnie," she said from the doorway, moments after Puck sulked off. Quinn, who was still hunched over Sam's unconscious body, startled and stood up quickly. When she finally met her mother's eyes again, she was defiant.
"Mom, I'm sorry we woke you," she said mechanically. She bent over Sam's figure again and they heard him groan.
"What happened?" Sam's voice was gruff and groggy.
Quinn huffed in annoyance and Judy clicked her tongue at her, disapproving. Giving her daughter a sharp glare, the older woman walked towards the blond teens and took the ice pack from Quinn's delicate fingers.
"Go." Judy commanded, lifting a single finger and pointing it in the direction of the kitchen.
Quinn startled and, biting down on her lip, shook her head.
"Go." Judy repeated.
"Did that Puckerman kid really slug me?"
Both women look down at Sam as he gingerly touched his eye.
"He did more than just slug you," Quinn replied, crouching down again. Her expression was soft and Judy felt confident that Sam was the one. All of her feelings of unease were quickly erased.
"He's insane," Sam muttered and something inside Quinn snapped.
"He is not insane!" She shrilled. And all of Judy's pre-existing doubts returned and she felt her stomach turn over.
"Quinnie," she warned. She knows her daughter and it was clear to her that Sam's words had struck a nerve.
"Well he's not," Quinn retorted. "You don't know him," she said to Sam as she stood, walking out the room. "I'm going to the kitchen. Puck and I… we need to talk."
"Yes, you do. He needs to go home, Quinn." Judy warned.
Despite not being able to see her, she knew that Quinn rolled her green eyes at her words.
Judy looked down at the perfect, precious, polite and pretty boy lying on her expensive couch and smiled warmly.
"Well, isn't this a… surprise," she said lamely, clearing her throat. Sam winced, but managed to smile.
Quinn was just so… aware of him. She tried focusing on Sam, instead of him, taking the icepack without so much as a glance, but every move he made in her periphery was enough to make her heart rate speed up. To make her cheeks burn—with anger, of course! When he made his way out of the room she was relieved at first, but she worried that he'd left. You don't need him. Let him go. Just look at what he did to Sam's face!
"Quinnie," her mother said from the doorway.
Quinn immediately stood erect and fiddled with the ice pack in her hands. When she suddenly remembered that she hadn't done anything wrong, she straightened.
Meeting her mother's eyes, she saw the questions and the veiled accusations and couldn't help the insolent tone from coating her words. She bent over Sam's unconscious form once more and, as if on cue, he groaned.
"What happened?" Sam's voice further irritated her, so she huffed in annoyance. She heard her mother click her tongue and it took every ounce of self-control she had to keep from rolling her eyes. Judy walked forward and took the ice pack from Quinn's grasp, motioning towards the kitchen with her slender hands.
It was then that Quinn realized that he—Puck—was still in the house.
"Go." Her mother instructed.
And face him?, she wanted to ask. Instead, she felt herself shake her head.
"Go." Her mother repeated.
"Did that Puckerman kid really slug me?" Sam spoke again and Quinn was instantly grateful for his presence. She didn't want to confront her mother's questioning glare again. Didn't want to fully realize why she cared so much about him.
Sam's voice was groggy and she wondered why she always hurt the people in her life.
"He did more than just slug you," Quinn answered, her voice soft.
"He's insane."
"He is not insane!" Quinn wanted to hit him. Quinn wanted to pull out his annoyingly blond hair and throw a tantrum.
"Quinnie," her mother warned.
"Well he's not. You don't know him," she said coldly, standing once more. "I'm going to the kitchen." She puckered her lip, choosing her words carefully—she knew her mother didn't like Puck. Knew that her mother would rather she choose Sam or Finn or Mike or Artie before she choose 'That Puckerman Kid.' "Puck and I… we need to talk."
Quinn swept out of the living room, but still caught her mother's warning. Now that she was safely out of sight from her mother's penetrating gaze, she rolled her eyes. She knew that Puck was not welcome, but he couldn't go home yet. Not before she gave him a piece of her mind.
She tried to gather her thoughts on her way to the kitchen, walking as slowly as she could to bide her time. She knew she has the tendency to show her cracks whenever she's around him and she wants to—needs to—prove to him (and herself) that she's strong.
She walked into the kitchen and he suddenly realized he didn't know what to say.
He jumped off of the stool and she raised her eyebrow, the hint of a sneer on her gorgeous face. Feeling awkward, he rubbed his palms on his jeans and opened his mouth to apologize.
"What you did out there," she said, raising her hand to silence his would-be excuses. She knows him too well. "It was inexcusable." Her voice was soft, menacing and he couldn't help but wince.
She folded her arms and (adorably) jut out her chin, narrowing her eyes. He shifted his weight and sighed, feeling more sheepish than ever before. The sound of his soft sigh startled her and she lost her resolve for a beat. He pretended he didn't notice.
"I know that what I did was bunk, okay?" Her face softened at his words and the change is imperceptible to anyone but him. "But..."
His voice trailed off as memories invaded his mind. He wondered if he was somehow reading her mind, since the change in direction—from wanting to apologize to Quinn and get the hell out of her life, to suddenly realizing how much he loves her and cherishes the moments he spent with her last spring—was so sudden. Studying her face, he noticed her wet eyes.
He took two long strides and was instantly at her side.
"Don't," she warned as he tried to put his arms around her delicate frame. "Don't touch me."
Why was she so difficult? One minute, he understood her better than the Spanish lesson Mr Schue gave them on the verb "tener", the next, her mood change was so sudden that he feels the strain from the whiplash.
"What the hell, Fabray? First, you won't let me apologize for being a dick," he listed, lifting his forefinger. "Then you act all emotional like the very sight of me reminds you of her. Of us. Of..."
"Stop it." She wouldn't even meet his gaze this time.
He backed off, shaking his head and waving his arms in front of him.
"Stop what? Talkin' about her? Giving a damn about you? About us?"
"Please, stop," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her abdomen.
He leaned against the countertop, huffing angrily and glaring at the floor. He finally looked up at Quinn and felt a pang of guilt when he saw the fierce determination in her eyes. He knew that she was fighting back tears, trying to keep her emotions in check. Just as he'd bottled up his rage—built up over months of avoidance—letting it build and build and build.
"I can't help it," he mumbled.
"What?" He watched, transfixed, as she brushed a blonde strand off of her perfect face—her eyes guarded.
There's a beat and he reluctantly turned his gaze to the floor.
"Feeling protective of you."
His voice was too soft and her silence made him wonder if she even heard him. That is until she uttered three words that managed to shatter his already broken heart.
"You should go."
He nodded, clenching his jaw and trying his best not to look at her. He knew that one look at her would make the numbing pain in his chest flare and, for once, he just wanted to forget. He'll play by her rules now and will deny that what he feels is real.
If she can do it, why can't he? Right?
He stopped at the entryway and, eyes still locked on the floor, said what he'd wanted to say since he realized how bad he is for her. Since he used Sam's body to alleviate some of the pressure settled in his chest.
"I give up, Fabray. Have a nice life."
As he left the kitchen, he stumbled into a sympathetic Sam Evans. Puck looked the kid up and down and Sam lifted his arms again that night, conveying with his eyes that he meant no harm. Déjà vu.
Sam made a motion to say something but Puck spoke first.
"Take care of her."
He looked down at his hands then back at Sam's swollen face.
"You might wanna put the icepack back on your face, though, fish lips." He gave the blond a wink and walked down the hall. Spying Quinn's mom in the living room, Puck nodded once in her direction as he opened the door. The crisp November air washed over his skin and it suddenly dawned on him: he was more alone than ever before.
Quinn watched him leave, but she couldn't bring herself to stop him.
She heard his exchange with Sam, but had no right to interfere.
She heard the door slam, but knew it was too late to change her mind.
So, she stood alone in the kitchen, wringing her hands and taking deep breaths. She forced a smile on her face and stopped her motions when Sam entered the kitchen.
"Hi!" She said breathlessly. Clearing her throat, she tried to speak once more. "I mean, hi," her voice soft and another tight smile on her face.
"You okay?" Sam took a step closer and put his hands on her waist. She could see the confusion, the pity, the hurt and—could it be?—the understanding on his face.
Quinn tried to laugh. Really, she did. But the sound was as tight as her smile. "Fine."
Sam nodded and pulled her closer, hugging her tight.
"I'm gonna go. Your mom's tired. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. So..." he half-smiled at her and she wondered why his charm has no effect on her. "Are you sure you're good?"
"Peachy."
She winced slightly when Sam's lips touched her forehead, but she managed to smile somewhat genuinely when he left her in the kitchen. Her hands shaking and her body numb, but she made her way to the sink and poured herself a glass of water.
She bit her lip, filling the glass and she looking outside, the cold November night beckoned her. She realized then, as she gazed at the trees dancing with the wind, that life would be so much easier if she knew what was going to happen. But, as she'd learned the previous year, life isn't that simple. She's not that simple.
Looking both ways as he made his way down the Fabray's front porch (he's already been on the receiving end of Puck's right hook and Sam's not in the mood for another assault, okay?), he rushed to his parked car. Safe and sound and sitting comfortably in the vehicle, he finally let himself think.
He ran a hand roughly through his hair and shook his head in confusion. Tonight was... weird. And that's weird in more ways than one. Sure, he had known that he'd have an awkward time at Santana's party (the girl who claimed he had no game had given him several flashes of her boobs all night long), but the whole deal with Quinn and Puck was just bizarre. He'd heard from Finn—and Artie, Mike, Mercedes and Kurt—that Quinn and Puck had a "history" together, but he never expected for Puck to turn into a vicious psycho.
Then again, Sam reasoned, his stint in juvie probably changed him for the worse. He shuddered, thinking about Puck in a cold dark cell. Having to press his back-side to the wall in the showers...
Wait a minute... Where'd that come from? He shook his head again and leaned his head against the head rest. He's tired. That's all. He shouldn't read too much into his thoughts...
Not tonight. He's already freakin' confused.
Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled away from Quinn's house and thought back to the moment he picked her up earlier that night. He knew tonight would "make or break" his relationship with Quinn and he can't help but think it... broke. I mean, she ditched him for... the other guy. He hit his palm against the steering wheel, his frustration making him rev his engine.
It's not like Sam had been looking for a girlfriend. And it's not like Sam wanted to get his ass kicked by someone who'd been in jail. And it's not like Sam knew what he was doing in the first place! Everything that had happened this year was out of his control. Maybe not all of it, but definitely the important stuff.
His relationship with Quinn had all started out so well... He had never expected the perfect head cheerleader to even look his way. Hell, he figured he would just coast it at McKinley, like he'd coasted at his other schools. His dad's company relocates him almost every other year, so Sam's never stayed in one place long enough to make friends. Billings Academy, the all-boys school he attended for middle school and his freshman year last year, was the first school where he stayed longer than six months. His family and younger sister Jo, moved to Argentina, but Sam went to boarding school. He just wanted to make friends and he knew if he went with them, that he'd go to at least three different schools in a Spanish speaking country. And Sam? He has enough trouble speaking the English language correctly, let alone Spanish. When he'd first transferred to Billings, he'd tried out for the choir, but he didn't really fit in there. Lucky for him, he's naturally athletic, so he joined all of the sports teams at Billings and found his niche, y'know? No one really picked on him, but he never had any real friends, either.
So when the rest of the Evans family moved back to the States, Sam joined them. His parents even bought him this sweet ride. He figured it was their way of saying sorry for missing out on two years of parenting.
All in all, Sam's doing good. He has a cool car, he's got friends and he's got glee.
Let's face it, Sam's also a natural performer. So when the opportunity arose for him to be in glee, Sam couldn't say no.
And when Quinn Fabray—perfect, pretty, popular Quinn Fabray—became his duet partner, he was stoked. Granted, Sam felt like a dick since Kurt ditched him at the last minute, but he figured you win some, you lose some. He still couldn't shake the feeling, though, that Kurt could've been his first, real friend. Sure, Finn is nice enough (when he's not trying to outdo him). Mike and Artie are friendly out on the field, but Kurt was—is more approachable. And even though their partnership, as Kurt had called it, was terminated before they even selected a song to sing in glee club, he's happy that Kurt still chats with him on AIM. (Sam would never admit it, but Kurt's rendition of Prince's "Kiss" had been on repeat for the past month and a half.)
Just that morning on the day of the party, they'd talked candidly about Puck and Quinn. He was just reading the email notification that his favourite Avatar fanfic had been updated, taking the occasional sip of his protein shake, when an AIM chat window popped up on his screen.
FashionablyKurt Hello, Sam.
Sam smiled as he typed in his reply.
Sam-I-Am hey kurt.
FashionablyKurt Will you be at Santana's house party tonight?
Sam-I-Am Q wants to go but im iffy on the whole thing
Sam-I-Am satana freaks me out.
Sam-I-Am lol
FashionablyKurt :) It's SANTana, Sam. Unless you meant that typo.
Sam-I-Am honest mistake. ;)
FashionablyKurt Well if you do decide to go together, remember that Puck's also invited. He and Quinn have a... complicated past. Didn't Finn talk to you? Last month? Just after the duets competition?
Yeah. He talked to him. But Sam still didn't get why Quinn was some sort of untouchable entity.
"I'm not telling you not to date her," Finn had said. "That's your call, man. But it's a major glee party foul." Finn sat down next to him in Spanish and continued. "Puck's in juvie right now and, I know I'm not supposed to talk about it, but he cares about Quinn. And Quinn? Sure, we're not friends, but I don't want to see her get hurt." He thought for a minute. "Again." Finn had offered Sam a half-smile and Sam couldn't help but give Finn a half-hearted smile in return.
"Well, to be honest, I'm not going after her." Noticing Finn's disbelieving look, he backpedaled. "Okay, sure. I tried to kiss her, but she's the one that called our dinner at Breadstix a date. She's the one who's been calling me. I'm not doing anything."
Finn blew out a breath.
"Look, I'm just saying that if this creates more drama... you might not be welcome in glee. Anymore."
Deciding that it was probably best to get the complete backstory on Puck and Quinn once and for all, Sam drew in a breath and typed.
Sam-I-Am do you know why they broke up?
FashionablyKurt ...
FashionablyKurt To be honest, no one really knows what they were last year. Were they dating? Were they friends? Did they even like one another? Sure, he was her—and I quote—"baby daddy", but outside of that, they're an enigma.
FashionablyKurt Look, Sam, I'm probably not the best to ask about this, since what I do know is what I've heard firsthand from Quinn and that was said in confidence. What I can say is that he "wasn't boyfriend material."
Sam had to hand it to Kurt. He didn't want to betray his friend's confidence, but what he did divulge to Sam had been enough to give him hope. Quinn needed a man who was boyfriend material. He just had to show her that he was that dude.
Sam-I-A yah. i get taht.
Sam-I-A 1 more question. howd puckrman take it when they broke up?
FashionablyKurt Unsolved mystery. It happened over the summer. I was over at Finn's house for dinner and Puck came over. He looked like he was close to tears. It was... unnerving. Anyway, Finn took him bowling, so I don't really know.
Ouch. Dude had been hurting.
Sam-I-A i should get goin. nice talking to you kurt :D
He typed quickly and logged off before Kurt could reply.
That was this morning and after his chat with Kurt, Sam had been convinced he could win Quinn over once and for all. Sure, he finally realized how complicated it all was. Glee club. Quinn. Puck. Sam. Who knew that three people could affect the entire club? Sam just wanted to be liked. Just like everyone else.
His dad had stressed how important the first day would be. How he would be "fresh meat", so he'd have to keep his chin high and his fists ready. Sam had never had a fight in his life, but his old man was positive he'd win. And when Sam got to McKinley that day, he'd noticed Quinn. It's hard to miss a girl who looked so vulnerable. Even in her Cheerios uniform, it was clear that she was... broken. So when Sam saw her—Quinn Fabray—performing with New Directions a week later during lunch, he figured that joining would be the easiest way of befriending her.
He had watched them perform and when the music stopped and Finn, Rachel and the rest sulked back inside, Quinn had stayed back... Puck was there, too. Sam had watched as he approached her, his arms outstretched like he was begging. Quinn held her head high and walked around him, marching into the school. Puck was left alone—his jaw clenched and a definite frown on his face.
Since then, though, Sam didn't really give him too much thought. Maybe he should've. After all, Artie, Mike, Mercedes, Finn and Kurt had all freaked him out.
Puck's pretty dope. Sure, he used to lock me in the port-a-potty and I usually take the long way to math, since I'm kinda terrified that he'll push me down the stairs again, but he's nice.
Complicated history. I dunno if you wanna get caught up in that, dude. But Puck won't kill you. He might threaten you, but come on. What do you expect? You're with his baby mama, dude.
Oh, white boy. You better watch it. One, because Puck's mohawked ass will kill you for stealing his girl and two, because I'll personally strangle you if you break my girl's heart. Got it?
Listen, Sam. Right now, I kinda feel responsible for you. You know, since you joined glee and all. Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is... don't mess things up. When Puck comes back, I mean. Please.
Oh, to be a fly on the wall in the Puckerman and Fabray households. All I can say is watch your back, new guy.
As he looked back on everything, Sam realized how stupid and naive his actions were. It was a lucky break that all he got from Puck was a black eye. Sure, his cheek was five times its normal size, but it could've been worse.
All Sam wanted to do was is get home and go to bed. He knew his dad was going to kill him when he saw his face in the morning.
Quinn fiddled with the phone in her hands.
She knew she should put it aside before the temptation to send him a text overpowered her.
She knew she should leave it alone.
She knew he had made too many mistakes in the past.
That they're too different.
That her mother barely tolerates him.
That he makes (... made?) her heart skip every beat.
That they've had their moments.
That she feels... something for him.
But, another voice rang in her head, isn't she with Sam? Texting Puck would set her back. Or rather, would set her and Sam back. This relationship with Sam had to be done the right way. With Friday night dates, duets in glee club, status, popularity and the promise of a shiny gold crown in spring.
She's messed up too many friendships. Too many relationships. Too many things in her life. Just once, she'd like to get something right. And if that something is Sam, she'll take it. Is that harsh?, she wondered. That harsh voice sounded so cold and calculating. When did she turn into her mother?
Quinn sat up, running her fingers through her hair, curling a strand around her finger.
She bit her lip and typed out a message.
I really miss you. Especially now.
She hit send before she could regret what she did.
Puck sat on Santana's bed, a passed out Brittany beside him, while Santana rummaged through her clothes for a condom.
After his incident with the hot Cheerio, Puck really needed to prove that his stud-ness. And quick. News spreads fast at McKinley and he never, ever, wants this dirty little secret to see the light of day. What was God's issue with him? Puck's a good Jew (most of the time). He's an okay son (when it suits him). And he would've been a great father (of that he's sure). Then why can't he get it up?
"A-ha!" he heard Santana say. "Found it." When she stood, she held the condom between her fingers for him to see. "Ready to play?"
She crawled toward him just as the cell phone in his jeans pocket buzzed to signal a new text. He could practically see the daggers shooting out of Santana's sex-crazed eyes as she glared at his right thigh.
"Turn it off, Puckerman," she ordered.
Puck rolled his eyes and buried his hands in his pocket, retrieving his phone. He was about to place it on her nightstand, Santana's hands inching up his leg as she purred his name, but all he saw was BabyM. He looked down at Santana and saw her lick her lips. It was clear she wanted to sex him up and he would have gladly obliged—if this was last year. This year he wants to do the one boy, one girl thing. This year he wants to stay true to his promises. This year he doesn't want to hear the pain in her voice as she questions him ("I thought you wanted to be with me.")
This year he doesn't want to hurt her.
Just as Santana's (magical, wonderful, could-get-him-to-promise-to-take-her-shopping-if-she-just-keeps-rubbing-him-that-way) hands reached for his belt buckle, Puck stood.
"It's my mom," he lied. "She was called in to work, so I have to watch Hannah."
Santana raised an eyebrow and he could practically see the smoke shooting out of her ears. He swallowed, fearing the worst, but Puck knows Santana better than anyone else. There are times he wonders if they share a brain.
"But that doesn't mean we can't have fun later," he said lowly, stroking her arm with his forefinger. "Like later this week. After glee?"
He waited, his smirk frozen as he silently willed her to answer.
She crossed her thin arms, huffing a bit.
"Whatever. I'll see if Britt's up for some sexytimes tomorrow." Santana muttered and Puck's smile grew. "It's not like I care that we haven't had sex in months," she added sourly.
"Great, I'll see you Monday!" Puck shouted over his shoulder as he rushed out of Santana's room.
As soon as he was outside, standing on Santana's porch, he pulled his phone back out and text the following.
don't lock your window. I'll b there asap.
AN: I really appreciate you all for reading this fic. And to all of you who added this to your alerts, I'm sorry I didn't update sooner. My life is one big ball of busy and work comes first. Still, I want to thank you all for showing interest. :)
Two things: 1) I know I go off on a tangent about Sam, but I think it's important for this story to show how Puck and Quinn's relationship affects the entire glee club. I might have veered off a bit, but it was fun coming up with a backstory for Sam. He's quickly becoming a favourite of mine. Can you blame me, though? Sweet boy is sweet. 2) I actually intended for Puck to have sex with Santana and have the Quick discussion later in the fic, but with the way Glee is going right now, I don't think I can handle any more angst. Most of my fics are fluffy and I prefer it that way.
This fic is like therapy for me. I just really miss Quick and fanfic is the one place where the story is told the way we want it to play out.