Cadenza
By: RavenHeart101
Summary: Summer camp is something that Puck always dreaded. When he accidentally signs up for a football and music camp he's stuck sharing a room with the one person everyone else seems to hate. The gay kid from Marion Middle School.
Disclaimer: I am gladly NOT Ryan Murphy.
Warnings: Slash (male/male), swears, homophobia, mature themes, gay bashing/bullying, parental issues, sexual situations, sex, substance abuse on minors, smoking with minors, ect.
A thanks to those who reviewed: Aledda (I simply have impeccable timing like that. I love your dreams. They make me so happy. Because they're always close to something that I have planned for the story. There will be plenty of fluff, don't you worry.), Goldstars4me (-Blushes- Please don't envy me. I'm not that great. But thank you so much!), eaglegirl1202 (Hahaha. I'm sorry that I'm making you wait for the full on Bluck scenes... but those WILL HAPPEN! Some time. It'll be a great test of your patience if you can make it. -winks-), Lopedogg (That was so totally a fangirl squeal. I CREATED A FANGIRL! -die/flail-), omgbelle (Yes. Yes I am. Aww. I love you too. 3), and perchance to wake (You better read more. I am so glad you're enjoying this story so far. So. So. So. Glad.).
A:N – I have no idea why this is coming so early (or being started just a day after the last update) but I doubt there'll be any complaints. :)
This chapter: The first day of school and the first re-gathering of the football team. Will Noah's excitement last long enough for him to apologize? And who in the world is Paul?
William McKinley High School was dirty. There was seriously grime almost everywhere. It was obscene, it's educational system was crap, and anyone who wasn't wearing a red and white jacket or cheerleading uniform were so far down on the social scale that no one cared for them.
Noah loved every part of it.
Noah loved the disgusting lunch food, the horrible education, the dirty walls, the lockers that never closed, the cheering skirts, the focus on all things sports, the attitude problems, and the jerks that wondered the halls. Maybe it was because him and Finn had made it onto the Titans (although that wasn't all that surprising because the Titans pretty much sucked), or maybe it was because he had totally had sex with three girls so far, but Noah pretty much loved every single moment he spent in the school's hallways.
And he hadn't even thought of Blaine Anderson once.
That is... until he checked his calendar and saw "Grey And. FB Meet, 5" written in bright red sharpie and circled about twenty times.
Marion High School was beautiful. It's halls were probably the cleanest things in the world. Large paintings hung in every turn. The lockers were a startling blue that contrasted wonderfully with the sea foam green paint of the walls. The floor was spotless. Education was a major part of what the school boasted about and there was just about no visible social hierarchy.
Blaine hated every part of it.
Blaine hated the perfectly catered lunch food (it was a mess to clean after it was spilled all over his clothes, and it wasn't like he got to eat any of it anyway). He hated the lockers (they left the worst bruises). The classes were horrible (every time he was shoved into one of the desks, or tripped none of the teachers bothered to even act as though they cared). He hated the perfectly cleaned floors (they made it easier to slip on when pushed). And he hated the other people who attended the school (no one even bated an eyelash when all of this shit happened to him), besides Lily (who was slowly climbing up the social ladder), Danielle (who had grown up quite a bit the moment she walked into the school), and Paul (who was slowly turning into his saving grace).
He thought of Noah everyday.
The asshole had his guitar.
"Hey dude." Finn bumped his fist into Noah's, smiling openly at him as they made their way over to the spot where all the football guys hung out: the dumpsters.
"Hey Finnster." Noah replied, smirking at his oldest friend (who was quickly becoming, like the tallest guy in the world).
The dumpster was located on the far side of the school and yet it was something that everyone had to pass on their way into the building. The football team had taken to this thing called Dumpster Tossing. They would, quite literally, find a person and toss them into the dumpster. And, not just any person either, they were usually the geeks or nerd or plain abnormal.
This week their targets had been people like the crippled boy in the wheel chair and Kurt Hummel, the only quite obviously gay guy that McKinley had to offer.
Noah and Finn participated any time that they could, even if Noah knew that it made Finn feel like a douche (it did the same to Noah if he were to be honest). Because helping out on things like Dumpster Tosses meant that Noah and Finn were cool.
And cool was the new... well cool was cool.
And being a loser? So not cool.
"Hey." Paul nudged Blaine's arm with his own, a smile forming over his handsome face when Blaine's eyes slid up to meet his in the mirror.
"Hi Paul." Blaine didn't even try for a smile, instead grimacing as another drop of alcohol fell into his eye. He made a noise in the back of his throat and rubbed another tissue covered in water down his face. Where in the world the bullies had gotten alcohol was beyond him, and why the felt the need to waste it by pouring it over his head was yet another thing Blaine didn't understand.
Paul's tanned hand closed over Blaine's wrist, tugging lightly and pulling him so that he was facing his taller form. His light hair danced over his forehead, his blue eyes sparkling in an attractive manner. "They do anything else?" Paul leaned across Blaine's body, running the paper towel under the faucet and the reaching up to wipe the mess off Blaine's face.
Blaine's breath stilled until Paul raised a questioning eyebrow at him and his lips perked into a tiny smile, his eyes dropping down to Blaine's for a moment before going back to the task of cleaning Blaine up. "Besides painting 'FAG' on my locker and sliding in straight camp applications into my locker?" Paul's eyes slid back down to Blaine's, almost as though they were telling him to be honest. An easy smile passed over Blaine's lips as he looked up at the Sophomore. "No. They didn't physically do anything besides poor alcohol over my head."
"Doesn't make it any better." Paul muttered under his breath. "Now they've gone and ruined your shirt." He pouted in a way that made Blaine's head feel fuzzy. "You can borrow an extra that I have, if you want."
Blaine was pretty sure he had just met his Prince Charming.
Quinn Fabray was beautiful. Noah could tell that the moment he first laid eyes on her in Kindergarten, but he had never realized just how beautiful she was until she started dating Finn. And then it sort of attacked him like a very forceful slap to the face. "Dude she's hot." But that's what Noah said instead because he certainly didn't think of anyone as beautiful. Never ever. Noah was a bad ass, so he thought girls were hot, not beautiful. Calling someone beautiful was saving for his mother or sister or the girl he would possibly marry. Not for girls like Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce, or Quinn Fabray.
"I know, man." Finn smiled up at him and the two of them fist bumped again.
"Maybe you'll finally get laid."
And if Finn's face didn't totally get that dopey puppy excitement again than Noah was surely blind.
"Hey hot stuff." Santana Lopez rubbed against him, her hand brushing against his thigh as she pushed by, her breasts pushing into his chest as her hips swayed under her red Cheerios uniform.
"H-hey babe." Noah hid the stutter in his voice with a laugh, smirking in her direction.
She turned back and winked at him.
"Come to the movies with me?" Paul startled Blaine out of his depressing thoughts, the dark haired boy slamming his head on the top of his locker. Paul's musical laughter filled the hallway for a moment, and a few people turned around to look at them with a question in their eyes. But Blaine was so used to it now that even the muttered curses of 'fag' didn't phase him. "Please? There's this really great movie coming out tomorrow and I have no one to go with."
"I hope I'm not your last choice." Blaine let a nervous smile curl over his own lips, his arms squeezing his books close to his chest, and his eyes looking up at Paul through their lashes.
"You're my first choice actually." Paul shifted uncomfortably and a small blush covered over his cheeks. "I-I was hoping it could be..." and then he trailed off.
Blaine was sure he had meant to say something because he had heard some sort of strangled whisper push between Paul's lips. "Could be what?"
Blaine shifted again, leaning against his locker as casually as he could with his heart pounding in his chest. "A date." Paul rushed out, loud and as confident as he could hope for.
Blaine was pretty sure he wasn't the only one who froze in shock. "A-a date?" His voice came out high and squeaky, hopeful in all manners.
"A date... If that's okay with you, that is. I mean it's totally okay if it's not. I don't think I'd really care. Well, of course I care, because I really want it to be a date because you're really cute and all and-" Paul cut himself off when Blaine's lips delicately brushed over his cheek.
Blaine bounced back down on his heels, pursing his lips and blushing. "Pick me up at eight?"
"Seven." Paul rushed out. "I want to take you to dinner... If I can."
"I-"
"You know... it's totally up to you."
"That sounds perfect." Blaine was quick to reassure, and the blinding smile Paul sent his way was enough to make Blaine blush again. And if Paul's soft lips connecting to his cheek was any indication, he was bound to gain some sort of heart problem by being around him.
"Fag." Blaine snapped out of his reverie when his body made contact with his locker rather painfully.
And yet he couldn't help but smile.
He had a date. A date with Paul Ottor.
Noah knocked against the tall door, ringing the doorbell for good measure. Whatever Noah had thought the Anderson house would look like it wasn't a large town house. The driveway was large enough to fit Noah's tiny one story mobile home and Finn's two floor house and still have room for three cars. The yard as large enough that around three football games could be played at once, on separate fields. The house itself looked large enough to belong to someone who owned a restaurant and helped run a law firm. Noah swallowed up at the imposing home, waiting as patiently as he could until a familiar body was standing in the doorway. "N-Noah." Blaine's voice sounded shocked.
And Noah was pretty sure he had frozen in shock himself, the guitar that he had remembered to bring clutched in his hand. "Blaine." He was surprised he even had a voice because his throat had dried up the moment his eyes had caught sight of him, even before his brain had realized who it was. "How-"
"Hey Puckerman." And then Slick was pushing Blaine – like physically pushing him – out of the way and pulling Noah into the house, his fist rubbing into Noah's scalp the moment the door closed behind him. "How's it going?"
Noah just remembered how much he hated Slick. "Get off me you ass." Noah shoved him backwards and tried to fix his hair (shaving into a mohawk because of a dare Mike had played against him a week before) so that it wasn't sticking up anymore.
"Welcome back, lady." Slick blew a kiss in his direction before stomping off in his socks towards what Noah assumed was the living room.
"Shoes go there." Blaine pointed at the mat in the corner, before raising his hand a bit. "Jackets go there."
"Listen man... I'm sorry-"
"Thank you for bringing this back." Blaine shook the guitar that had somehow managed to get into his hand. "Grey's in the third room to your right." And with that Blaine left Noah behind, dragging the instrument with him into what Noah hoped was his room.
He had a feeling he would have to know where that was.
The second football meet up thing was the same as the first, Blaine opened the door, someone pushed him away, Noah tried to talk to him, and then Blaine shook him off easily. And then the third was the same, the forth was the same, the fifth was the same and, by the time Noah made it to the sixth meeting, he had given up all hope of every speaking to Blaine again.
And, go figure, that was the one day all of his efforts payed off.
Noah stepped outside, his breath heating up the air around him and causing a small fog to emerge from his mouth. The white cigarette twirled between his fingers and he wondered, for a moment, where exactly Blaine had been that day. When Noah had stopped by the other boy hadn't been the one to answer the door, instead a person who Noah assumed was Greyson and Blaine's mother answered, her blonde supermodel like body something that had distracted him for all of a moment before he remembered that he was dating Santana now.
The lighter sparked under his fingers, lighting the end with practiced perfection. He rose it to his lips, letting a puff of smoke pass into, and then out of his mouth, the relaxing power of nicotine flooding through his veins.
Stress had been filling him lately, what with the football season close to starting up again, Santana demanding that he be a better boyfriend, Finn only talking about Quinn, Kurt Hummel being so damn annoyingly bitchy, and Blaine finding a way to pop into his head every time Noah would throw the fashion loving boy into the dumpster, or push him into lockers, or throw slushies into his face. "You're always going to be a Lima Loser!" Hummel had shouted at Noah's back once.
And Noah would be lying if he said that those words didn't sting. Kurt Hummel was a bitch. Noah rose the cigarette back up to his lips, inhaling and letting his eyes slip closed. "Smoking kills."
He jumped at the sudden voice, his eyes slamming open and breath stilling when he heard Blaine's voice. A car pulled out of the driveway, beeping when it drove by, Blaine turning around to wave it it with a wiggle of his fingers and an easy smile. A smile that lit up his bruised face and made him look so beautiful outside in the gently falling snow that Noah wished he could just swoop him into his arms and kiss him senseless and-. Noah cut himself off there. He had a girlfriend. And, even if he didn't, he was no fag. He definitely should not be thinking the way he did.
"So do guns." Noah replied, conveying something that he hoped wasn't the nerves he was feeling.
"And cars." Blaine shrugged, stepping carefully onto the porch, his hands shoved into his pockets.
"But that doesn't stop people from driving." Noah flicked the end of the cigarette before heaving in another breath of smoke.
Blaine stopped and stared at him for a moment, his hazel eyes brilliant under the winter lighting and his green scarf pulling at the green in his eyes. "True." He smiled gently at Noah, standing beside him and holding out his hand.
"What?" Noah furrowed his forehead in wonder, wondering for a moment if Blaine wanted to hold his hand or something.
"Can I have one?" Blaine wiggled his fingers in the direction of Noah's cigarette.
Noah didn't bother studying him for a moment, instead reaching out to pull one and the lighter for his pocket. He handed the cigarette to Blaine, flicking on the lighter and holding it steady so that the end was lit and held steadily in Blaine's hands. "Thank you." Blaine smiled up at him before raising it to his pink lips – kissed pink... Noah was pretty sure he felt his heart do a funny sort of jump at that realization – and... well he promptly fell over coughing when he inhaled.
Noah couldn't help but laugh at him, hitting his back and quickly stubbing his own in the ash tray that was placed on the outside railing, covered in snow. "You don't swallow the smoke."
"Well I know that now." Blaine straightened himself, his eyes watering and a few more coughs falling through his lips. "Shit that was horrible." He coughed once more, Noah hiding yet another laugh by a cough of his own.
"You've never done this before have you?" Blaine wrinkled his nose at the white cigarette, moving to stub it, Noah's hand grabbing at his wrist before it could. "Don't. I'll have it."
"Never will ever again." Blaine shrugged over at him, smiling easily, his eyes lighting up before handing Noah the used cigarette with a shaking hand. "But thank you."
"Welcome." Noah felt a smile tug back at his lips and his eyes followed Blaine all the way into the house, before he raised the cigarette back up to his mouth, his heart pounding when it struck him that it had been in Blaine's mouth before it was in his.
He felt it would be better if he ignored the small twitch in his dick that instilled.
"Go to the dance with me?" Lily asked him late one evening, turning around to face him from her spot on his bed.
Blaine wrinkled his nose at her, flipping through his history book uselessly. "Paul already asked me." He hid his blush as well as he could hope for, but he couldn't hide the brilliant smile that pulled over his features when Lily squealed in response.
"Oh no way!" She jumped up and down, clapping her hands together before suddenly sobering, her smile falling off her face.
"What?" Blaine asked in worry.
Lily tried to fix her expression so that a smile was covering her face again. Only it didn't work very well. "It's just... are you sure that's... oh I don't know... safe?"
Blaine froze because he knew what she was talking about. And, to be completely honest, he had worried about the same thing himself. But he really wanted to go (everyone else was) and if he was going he'd rather go with his boyfriend than with a girl. No offense to Lily or Danielle or anyone. He just would rather go to the dance and dance with Paul to all of the slow songs than Lily or Danielle. That didn't come out right... "His father's picking us up right after, Lil. It'll be fine."
He smiled eagerly at her and maybe that's what made her relent, but Lily was sure that she would be following Blaine and Paul around like a lost puppy for the whole dance instead of dancing by herself or with any cute boys.
"Just once." Paul promised Blaine, leaning forward again, pushing him back against his bed and straddling his hips with his legs. "I promise you'll love it."
Blaine laughed a bit when his fingers ghosted over his sides, squirming away from the prodding hands. "I'm sure I will. Doesn't mean it's any less weird though."
"Will you please promise to eat my cooking just once?" Paul fell forward, his elbows catching his weight and his blonde hair brushing against Blaine's forehead, his breath ghosting over the younger boy's lips.
"Mm... what will I get out of it?" The coy smile was enough for Paul to give in and kiss him, sliding his tongue into his mouth easily.
The kiss quickly turned hotter than either of them had anticipated, Paul's hand running down Blaine's chest until it rested over the growing bulge in his pants, pulling at the zipper with a practiced hand, Blaine returning the favor with a small smile. He let Paul roll them so that Blaine was the one sitting on top of Paul as their pants and shirts were shed.
It wasn't a moment that was planned but, as far as Blaine was concerned, it was perfect.
Too bad he didn't remember it passed a few days.
Noah fell back against one of the pillows Greyson had thrown out of them in the living room, the June rain making it impossible for them to have any kind of mock game. So, instead, they were settled down to spend the night watching movies, the day unintentionally turning into a sleepover because of the amount of water pouring down in all of the surrounding towns.
It was two in the morning when they were all startled out of their movie reverie, all of them jumping at the loud shrill of the Anderson telephone. Greyson groaned, throwing his face forward into the pillow when the phone continued to ring, his hand flinging out to pause the movie.
Noah grunted at the horrible image it stopped at, Slick and the other guys making a ton of rude comments about the lead girl's ass. Normally Noah would have joined in with them, but he hadn't really felt like much of the bad ass he was that whole day.
Something just wasn't right.
"Hello?" Greyson's voice echoed from the kitchen, Noah flinching at the sudden scream that popped out from the television as Slick flicked the movie back on.
"Wait what?" And then Greyson's voice was panicky and Noah scrambled into a seated position. "Dad..." His voice croaked out before he cleared his throat and then he was yelling and running up the stairs. "Dad! Dad! Dad!"
"The fuck..." Slick's own voice trailed off when his own phone chimed, and Nathan Anderson came running down the stairs, bathrobe flying out behind him, phone clutched in his hand and his face pale. "Hey mom... What?"
Greyson was flinging up pillows and blankets, muttering various curse words under his breath, his dark hair flung up in all directions. He suddenly stopped when his hand bumped against his cellphone. "Fuck!" The object was thrown against the wall, Noah jumping back. He had never seen Greyson this angry – this out of control.
"Grey-" Noah began once he had gained the courage to speak. And then Nathan Anderson was running back into the living room, throwing on his shoes and now in a more presentable pair of sweat pants and a Superman t-shirt.
"Come on." Greyson gripped Noah's arm in his own, pulling him up to his feet and dragging him out of the room and into the entry hall, throwing a random jacket at him and pushing his feet into a random pair of shoes, Noah barely having time to toe on his own before he was being pulled out of the house and into the hot June night air, rain beating off his head hard and clumsy.
Slick sprinted after them, pushing Greyson out of the way. "This is all your fucking faggot of a brother's fault, Anderson!"
"Your brother's just as much of a faggot as mine is, asshole!" Greyson pushed him back. "So don't you fucking blame him-"
"We don't have time for this! Either get in the car or stay here!" Nathan Anderson snapped, pulling all of the boys out of their fight (and confusion for Noah's part). Noah scrambled to get into the car, the door slamming behind him and the car literally speeding out of the driveway the moment before it shut.
He rushed to slip on his seat belt, Greyson leaning forward somewhat eagerly. "What's wrong with him dad?"
Nathan Anderson's hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that they turned white and Noah began fearing that the wheel would snap under his tight grip. He pressed his lips into a thin line.
"Dad!" Greyson tried again, his voice borderline hysterical.
"Fuck Greyson!" Slick hit the back of the passenger seat in frustration. "They were fucking attacked, okay? They're fucking unconscious and it's all your fucking faggot brother's fault!"
"Shut the fuck up Daniel or I swear-!"
"Enough!" Nathan Anderson swerved the car into the hospital's parking lot, parking the car so that it took up nearly three spaces before running out, forgetting to cut the ignition. Greyson followed soon after, Slick doing so soon after. Noah reached over, pulling the keys out of the ignition and shoving them in his pocket. He'd have them for when Nathan Anderson went looking for them.
But the moment he heard the sirens he wasn't sure if he could make it inside the hospital. He was so close too, literally two seconds away from pushing open the doors. He could see Nathan Anderson and Greyson yelling at the receptionist, along with Slick being embraced by a Christian looking couple decked in about twenty crosses each.
EMT's pushed Noah out of the way, running through the doors yelling nonsense orders at one another. Two stretchers were guarded in the middle of them and Noah felt his blood run cold. He felt detached, lost, floating over the area. Blood. A lot of blood. Too much blood for it to be normal covered the unconscious face. He felt sick.
Because there, on the stretcher with the EMT holding that blue breathing thing for more than precaution, on the stretcher covered with an unhealthy amount of blood, was Blaine Anderson.
End Act One.
A:N - Isn't that a fun cliff hanger? XD Haha.
Next Time: Camp just isn't the same without Blaine around and hospitals are really depressing. Blaine may be awake, Greyson may be protective, Wes may have shown back up, and Noah may be being nice, but who said that things had to always work out to be rainbows and butterflies?