A/N: Hi guys! Thank you so much for the awesome reviews! This is a really fun chapter to write because it deals with more characters. There's not much in terms of development in the story, but I hope it fills some gaps.
Enjoy!
xXx
CeruleanBlues
The Housemate Agreement
Chapter 3
"Dude, this fucking stinks," Puck mumbled glumly as he twirled the plastic straw between his fingers. "We've been working on that song for months. How are we going to produce a better one in two weeks?"
Mirroring his band mate's sentiment, Sam slouched into the warm metal armchair and focused his attention on the ice cubes floating about in his glass of water. Bummed out from the unsuccessful meeting with one of the industry's leading producers, the four lads had flocked to a nearby café for a 'professional de-briefing session'. As intriguing as it sounded, the so-called appraisal unfortunately only consisted of Finn and Rory ordering their hearts' out in plates of food, Puck demanding to know why the establishment didn't serve alcohol at eleven in the morning, and Sam sulking at a corner.
Glancing over at his circle of friends, Sam reckoned they were an epitome of a band of broody musicians.
To have woken up that morning and hoped that everything was going to change for the better, and then only to have them crushed right before him, was a major setback to his dreams—not to mention the fact that he'd fought tooth and nail with his parents about moving to another state—he needed to prove them wrong and fulfill his end of the deal. Pursuing a lifestyle of music was never an ideal career choice in his family. Surrounded by doctors and lawyers, he was thus expected to make the Evans' name proud. If he failed in New York, he'd have to return home and settle for a nine-to-six job at his cousin's law firm.
That ought to be fun.
His inward sarcasm was channeled complete with a groan and an exaggerated roll of his eyes. He'd probably hog-tie himself to a bull and get run over by a truck before he would allow that to happen. Regardless of what he family thought of him, Sam was determined to put their measly boring-ass jobs to shame. For that to happen, however, he and his comrades would need to quit moping, and get their heads in gear. They needed to start cracking on a brand new song.
"Alright, you know what, we can do this," he told the group, breaking the somber situation. "We need to do this. Sue has given us another shot at a record deal, and there's no room here for negativity. So, I suggest we get our butts moving to the studio. We've got our work cut out for us."
He figured it was a damn good speech—even if he did say so himself—and was rather pleased with it.
"No, I can't, man," Finn replied through a mouthful of spaghetti. With a quick chew and swallow, he continued, "I promised Rachel I'd pick her up from rehearsal."
"What?" Sam spat out and sighed in frustration. "Why? You two live together. Can't you just meet her at home?"
From across the table, Finn shot him a glare. Despite what he felt about his relationship with Broadway-hopeful Rachel Berry, Sam knew for a fact that his dear friend was totally pussy-whipped. Perhaps it was because he didn't have a stable job like she did, but aside from making music all day long, Finn was always stuck with the chores. The guys would come over for jamming sessions and the poor chap would be off dusting a bookshelf, or straightening out the flowers in a vase, or washing the dishes. All he needed, really, was a chambermaid's costume.
Now I know what to get him for his birthday.
To Finn's credit, being engaged to a performer was actually serious business, and Sam had absolutely no idea how the dude did it, but the couple had been together since forever; way before the band was even formed. They were high school sweethearts—one of those stereotypical jock/drama club-beating-the-status-quo type sort of love—and no matter how nauseatingly mushy they could get sometimes, Sam couldn't deny just how adorably perfect those two people were for each other.
"Fine," Sam reluctantly gave in. "Maybe we'll all meet up at your apartment after that and—"
Wincing aloud to interrupt the blonde, Finn regretfully said, "I can't, dude. Rachel wanted to go to this fancy-schmancy book reading thing in the Upper East Side, and it's kind of like a black-tie-and-suit event, so—"
"Dude, you serious?" Puck snickered, and Sam couldn't agree more.
This whole new level was breaking the bromance code, not to mention a chip off Finn's already-questionable masculinity. First of all, no matter how stocked up their apartment was with literature, Sam had never once seen his friend actually pick up a book to read. Who could blame him, though, it all sounded pretty pretentious. There were names of authors he couldn't even pronounce, and language that were too fanciful to even consider understanding.
"What's wrong with that?" Finn demanded, his defensive wall building up.
"You're going to go to some high-brow cocktail party—"
"Book reading," Finn corrected his Mohawk band mate.
"Whatever," Puck retorted dismissively. "But the bottom line is: you're ditching your friends for some poetry shit? Where are your balls, man?"
"Hey, look, I'm sorry, guys, but I've made a promise—"
Tired of this nonsense, Sam decided to step in with the big guns. "This is our career on the line, Finn, our futures. If we don't nail this song in time to impress Sue Sylvester, you can damn well kiss your wedding goodbye. I'm sure you'd hate to disappoint Rachel, after all those intricate fairy tale stuff she had planned for it."
Finn paused, absorbing the words, and Sam knew he'd fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. He observed the myriad of emotions flitting through the drummer's face as he carefully weighed out his pros and cons. Patiently waiting for an answer, Sam reached for his glass of water and took a refreshing gulp. The city was a sweltering nest of heat and pollution, and God; it was such a stupid move to sit out along the pavement by the bustling traffic.
"Fine, fine," Finn relented at last. "I'll go talk to Rachel. Maybe she can take one of her production friends with her instead."
"Attaboy," Puck cheered, slapping him on the back. "Show her who's boss."
"You do know that she's going to chew on your arse for that," Rory pointed out, bursting the blissful bubble. "It'll be like watching the site of the seventh battle of Arthur in Caledonia."
"I have no fucking clue what you just said," Puck told the Irish musician.
"It's an expression."
Her classes had been a drag, the droning of her lecturers still ringing deep in her ears like a permanent lull, and she simply couldn't wait to retreat back to her safe haven. Strolling down the sidewalk of cracked cement and tiles, Quinn kept her steps light, in time to the beat of the music from her headphones. She ran the choreography in her mind, picturing the movements in extreme detail for when she would need it later on.
The building itself wasn't the grandest of establishments, or the best of locations, but it made for a cozy spot to set up the perfect dance studio. Once a run-down fire station, it was then bought over by some rich-ass guy, privately owned and restored as an empty warehouse. Alongside two of her good friends, Quinn had rented the space, gathered their savings, and spruced the space up with just the sufficient amount of renovation to pull off 'Footsteps School for Dance'.
It wasn't the best, or the most advanced for that matter. The sound system constantly screwed up on them, the mirrors were hardly enough to accommodate the rooms, the floorboards creaked way too much to the point of distraction, and odd puddles kept appearing on the ground due to the leaks in the air conditioning. All in all, it wasn't the most conducive of environments, and they had always tried to find any means possible to improve on their facilities, but nevertheless, they knew that they had achieved their goal.
The sole purpose of the studio had never been for anything more than to simply share the joy of dancing to the less fortunate. Quinn and her co-founders didn't make a lot out of it. Most of the students' payments usually ended up with settling the rent, or ensuring the safety with diligent maintenance. Regardless, being an instructor there was rewarding enough.
It only meant that she had to stretch every single penny to make ends meet.
"Nice top, Quinn," Mike Chang commented, smirking the instant she walked into the cool reception.
Scowling dangerously at the Asian guy behind the booth, she peeled the headphones off her head and carelessly tossed her backpack down on the countertop with a huff before slumping over, groaning for having the crappiest day of her life. She lolled her head from side to side and tried to shake the tension off her body.
"If you want a massage, Fabray, all you have to do is ask."
"Yes, please," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut and willing for the migraine to disappear. Her class was to resume in forty minutes so she couldn't afford to injure herself by being sick.
His hands were dexterous—practically magical, even—as they made contact with her stiff shoulders. Rough and slightly calloused from years of martial arts and dance, his warm fingers kneaded her aching flesh, disentangling the knots in her muscles. Slowly, she began to relax, feeling the stress evaporate away, and God, it felt so damn good.
"How was your day?" His soothing voice was right by her ear, the proximity allowing her to inhale in his musky aftershave.
"Shit."
Just thinking about it was going to set her blood pressure off again.
"Why do you have a coffee stain on your shirt?" he asked.
Another thing to add to the list of unfortunate events.
"Some asshole bumped into me and spilled my drink," she snarled. "I was late for class so I couldn't go back home to change."
"So you've been walking around all day smelling like a caffeine druggie?"
She could tell that he was enjoying her misery, so she blindly backhanded his side, somehow hitting him squarely in the crotch. Jumping from the shock—and pain, no doubt—he cupped his precious manhood and sputtered out a couple of rich expletives. Unable to control the instinctive bodily reactions, Quinn craned her neck around to look and instantly cracked up.
"Glad you found that entertaining," he wheezed out. "Damnit, Quinn, why'd you do that for?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she managed to gasp out between laughter. "I was going for your leg and it just—"
"Hey, those are my crown jewels," he exclaimed. "You can't just go around whacking it."
"It was an accident—"
Two girls came in just then—her regulars—and both Quinn and Mike greeted them with matching smiles, determined not to giveaway anything that underage minors shouldn't know.
"Hey, Dianna, Ashley!" she chirped. "It's nice to see the both of you today."
"Hi, Quinn," the twin sisters chorused and made a beeline for the computer so that they could sign in for her class. They were adorable ten-year-olds and half the time, Quinn was unable to tell them apart, especially when they would be all cute and decide to dress alike.
"Hi, Mike."
That would be Ashley, the one who had a massive crush on the Asian dude, and didn't know how to hide it.
"Hey, Ashley," Mike grinned, leaning over the desk, and Quinn had to resist the urge to roll her hazel eyes. He obviously knew about the girl's infatuation, but at the risk of sounding like a perverted pedophile, he enjoyed the fan-girl attention. Perhaps she should hurt his penis again to jolt him out of it.
Barf, barf.
"Is Brittany here yet?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "She's in studio three, getting ready for her jazz-funk class."
"Great," Quinn said, grabbing her belongings from the counter as students started trickling in. "Better go and say hi to her first, and then change out of this mess."
Heading down the hallway, Quinn could already hear the music before she opened the door to one of the smaller studios, where she had the pleasure of watching Brittany S. Pierce burning the dance floor with her sizzling-hot routine. The other blonde was taking one of the advanced students that day, and Quinn was sure that Brittany was going to make them all get a run for their money. Crossing her arms over her chest, Quinn leaned against the doorframe and waited until she was done.
"Are you trying to kill them, Brit?"
"Quinn!" the girl squealed, running over to envelop her fellow instructor in a tight bear hug.
"Oof! You're sticky," Quinn chuckled, but accepted the sweaty gesture nonetheless.
Brittany, the ever-ditzy, innocently air-headed—though commonly insightful—bombshell giggled at her expanse. "Oh, shut up, you're going to change out of your clothes anyway," she pointed out. "Which, by the way, looks like a puke carnival. What happened?"
"Some jerk spilled coffee over me," Quinn explained with a tired sigh.
Wagging her eyebrows suggestively, Brittany asked, "Ooh, is he hot?"
Automatically, Quinn's face contorted in repulse. "Ew, no!"
"Well, you know what they say…"
Quinn quirked an eyebrow. "What?"
"If he spills coffee on you, he's going to be the father of your child."
That didn't even make sense.
A/N: So, there you go! I'm really excited to explore all the friendships in the story, but hopefully this is sufficient for now. The line "the seventh battle of Arthur in Caledonia" was taken straight out of Wikipedia. I have no idea what it is, really, but I like the song "Caledonia", which I think is in Scotland. :D
LilaPoland: Hi! Firstly, I apologize for the long wait. It wasn't in my intention to hold the chapter out for so long, but I hope this update is okay for you. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, and leaving wonderful comments! I really appreciate it! Sam/Quinn interactions would come soon, I promise. At least now we know what Sue Sylvester told the guys, right?
IWantNiley3. 0: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Hope you liked this chapter!
ReadingFanfiction13: Thank you for reading and reviewing! Yeah, they're all having a rather crappy day, but hopefully it gets better. LOL! There aren't any Sam/Quinn interaction in this chapter, but it'll come soon, I promise :D
Fabrevansgleek: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it!
Mandorac: THANK YOU! LOL! I'm so glad you liked the previous chapter even though there aren't any Fabrevans scenes. I think you've caught on to something there, with Quinn being involved in Sue's agency, but I'll leave you to your imagination :D Big hint/spoiler there! I've added more characters in this chapter, and I can't wait to play around with them! So excited! Thank you so much for constantly being there to read and review and give great feedback! I really appreciate it!
Tomorrow. Will. Be. Kinder: LOL! I'm glad you liked the previous chapter! This chapter I guess should explain a couple of things regarding Sue's proposition, but there's more to come, I promise :D Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my story! I truly appreciate it!
Gleeothfriends90210cccjsdAMD: I love Carrie Underwood! Such an amazing woman, and of course Dianna Agron! Thank you so the explanation! LOL! I'm glad you caught the bit about them becoming roommates in the future, which should be coming soon, I promise! I love Puck's character as well! Too bad they aren't doing much for him in the show besides the pool cleaning business, but it's better than being pushed in the background, right? He's going to play quite a role later on, so that would be interesting! Thank you for reading and reviewing! Hope you've enjoyed this chapter!
RJRRAA: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! It's always appreciated! I'm glad you love Puck's character! He's a really fun one to write!
FabrevansOTP: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I truly appreciate it! I can't wait for the actual plot to start too, and rest assured, it will come soon! I LOVE the juicy bits as well, and I would love to get that bit going, but unfortunately all the boring stuff has to roll first. A review is never late, so you don't have to apologize for anything. Hope you've enjoyed this update!
