Okay, I hope chapter 6 is finished. Actually I think it is. Yay!
I have some things I want to say first about this fiction (if anyone actually cares):
They will probably have shorter chapters now. This is because I am lacking in imagination and this is a way I can still post stories in spans of time that aren't overly ridiculously long.
Declining quality may also be a little bit annoying to some, because I feel I'm not writing my best. God I just plain suck at this my cries I can't-
And I am going to start trying to address Puck's relationship with his father, because, you know, the angst and all...
I hope you can look past how my horrible skills affected this piece and can enjoy this writing!
Punching numbers into his phone, Puck pressed the receiver to his ear. The dial tone quickly turned into a greeting.
"Puck!" Laura screamed enthusiastically. "Tonight's the big night! Have you got everything ready?"
"Yes, I do," he laughed. "Guitar Laura's in place, I just wanted to check that you haven't bailed-"
"Bailed? Never! I have to see this Sam, and confirm he's good enough for you."
"...He's hot, if that's what you're asking."
"Oh." Laura's voice became distant as she pulled away from the speaker. "Yasmin! He is hot!"
A swift and excited "I knew it! Yay!" was the response, and Laura returned her attention back to the phone.
"Oh, and Yasmin's gonna help me with the chauffeuring. We promise not to embarrass you."
Puck could hear her voice drip with sarcasm. "Try all you want, I'll just bring up that time you drank toilet water-"
"You wouldn't-"
"Or when you ate that fly-"
"THAT ONE WAS AN ACCIDE-"
"Or that time when you were caught-"
"See you at six!"
Grinning as the line went dead, Puck began preparing for his date.
"Noah? What are you doing?" Ruth's voice echoed as she walked into the kitchen, witnessing her son vigorously whisking a yellow mixture.
"Cooking," he grunted, increasing his speed.
"Cooking what?"
"Quiche," he said, ceasing his whisking and pouring the batter into a tray lined with pastry.
"Why?"
"Date." The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. With a sigh, he let the inevitable follow as he slipped the quiche into the oven.
"A date? You don't normally go all out for a date," Ruth remarked. "Normally you just sneak wine coolers from the cabinet and replace them when you get back."
Smirking, he replied. "I thought I hid my tracks. But this time is different - he is someone special."
Ruth froze, her lips curling upwards. "He?"
Sweat formed on Puck's brow. He swallowed a daunting breath, trying to will his arms not to shake. "Yeah," he verified. Puck couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with his mother, instead looking at his foot toeing the ground. He tried to address the question that hadn't been asked. "Is that a problem?"
"Problem?" Ruth scoffed. "Please, I don't care who you like." She coughed, realizing the unintentional harshness of her words. "You know I'll love you no matter who you're with."
"Thanks, Ma," he muttered, letting the avoirdupois of his worry leave him.
"Unless he's an ass, then I'd rather you just go back to womanizing."
"He's not an ass, Ma," he reassured as Ruth left the room. "...He just has a great one."
Sam anxiously waited outside his house, sitting on the steps to the front porch. He nervously flattened his hair and checked his clothing for the umpteenth time. He didn't know how he managed to sit there for so long with a stony expression, but he'd have to postpone his feelings for the sake of this night. When a car slowly came to a stop in front of his house, his face brightened as Puck stepped out of the back seat. He stood up as Puck walked up to greet him.
"Ready for our date?" Puck smiled. "I planned it perfectly, just so you know."
"That sounds great," Sam said, laughing to cope with his anxiety. "Let's go!"
Walking to the car, Puck couldn't help but notice something odd. "So, why were you waiting outside?"
"Oh, I- I was just that eager," Sam joked.
Puck raced ahead of Sam and opened the car door for him, flashing a grin that piqued Sam's cupidity. Sliding into the furthest seat, he jumped in shock as two heads twisted from their spots in the front to see him. He blinked at their judgemental expression, sucking in his gut.
"Um, Puck," he called out, "Am I in the right car?"
"Yeah," Puck confirmed, jumping in the seat beside Sam. He pulled the door shut with an unnecessary bang.
"Sam, meet Laura and Yasmin. You don't have to remember their names - they're just our chauffeurs."
"I beg your pardon," Laura said, with overacted poise. "My name is fabulous, so you better remember it."
"And we see why Puck always talks about you," Yasmin smirked, giving him a onceover. "I approve."
"Just shut up and drive," Puck laughed. Sensing Sam's awkwardness, he casually slung his arm over his shoulder. Sam, not comfortable around the new bystanders (even though they were having their own separate debate in the front of the car), just smiled and dipped his head, trying to avoid staring at the back of Laura and Yasmin's seats. "They'll seem kind of weird when you first get to know them," Puck explained in a murmur, jerking his head to the people in question. "But they're great once they're 'll love them soon enough."
Sam smiled, his anxiety melting with the friction of Puck rubbing his arm. He shifted the position of his feet, accidentally kicking a basket that was on the floor. "What's this?" he asked, unable to suppress a grin.
"That's our dinner," Puck said, grinning as the car rolled to a stop. "Right on cue." Grabbing Sam's hand in his and the basket in the other, the two exited the vehicle. "Eight o'clock!" Puck reminded to their drivers, yelling in order to be heard over the enthusiastic beeping.
"Are we at the park?" Sam questioned, following Puck's lead. At night, the usually vibrant grass transformed into an unfamiliar dew frosted scene. Trying to ignore the fact that this was how most of his horror movies started, Sam trudged beside his date, sticking to him as he sifted through a condensed field of trees. He thought they were lost until the foliage thinned and a private lake setting came into view. "Wow," he marveled, taking in the how the moonlight shimmered off the calm, undulating water. The trees broke the wind, allowing them to be in peaceful weather. The serenity of the whole scene made Sam content in just staring at the landscape, its tranquil vibe melting his worries.
"Are you going to sit down?" It seemed Puck had managed to lay a blanket and his basket while Sam's thoughts had wandered elsewhere.
Sam walked slowly, settling across from Puck, his eyes still distracted. "It's beautiful," he breathed.
"Thanks," Puck said, taking nature's credit. He turned to appreciate it as well. "This is where I go when I want to be alone. Not many people know it's here, so it's kind of special."
"Who's seen it?" Sam asked, finally turning his head back to Puck, though it took effort.
"Only you. I'm glad you dig it." Sam hid a snigger. He found it odd that something so breathtaking was referred to in such a way, but then again, that was probably high praise. "Now shut up about the scenery and lets eat." Puck disrupted the peaceful silence with the rustling that accompanied his movements. He flipped the lid of the basket, spread plates, cutlery and food between them. Sams silent apprehension faded as his consciousness approved the nourishment laid before him. Accepting the moderate slice of quiche Puck sliced him, Sam took a tentative bite.
"Wow! This tastes great!" He had always felt slightly guilty whenever he enjoyed food, but the ecstatic grin Puck radiated seemed to dismiss all remorse.
"I made it myself," he replied, the bottom half of his face now set into a permanent, genuine smile.
"Where did you learn to cook so well?" Judging by Puck's thrilled expression, Sam believed Puck's skill in the kitchen was one he was dying to bestow upon others.
"I just follow recipes," Puck shrugged. Though he tried to act modest, it was easily seen that he took the compliment with possessive smugness. "There's nothing to it."
"Are you kidding? I burn cereal." Puck snorted with laughter, threatening to spray Sam with quiche.
The rest of the main course was finished with nothing more than the scraping of forks against plates. The silence was not full, as the two stole precious glances and cute grins throughout. Licking his fork clean, Sam exhaled in satisfaction. He looked at Puck gratefully, not being able to remember the last time he felt so full. "That was delicious."
Puck raised an eyebrow, a smirk crawling across his lips. "But there's more."
"Dessert?" Sam grinned knowingly.
"Dessert," Puck confirmed. His hand dug into the basket, this time retrieving two punnets of strawberries, leaves already cut, and a bowl of melted chocolate. Puck placed the bowl in Sam's hands.
"How is this still warm?!" Sam gawked. He cupped his hands, amazed at the gentle heat radiating from the white concave.
"That's a secret." Puck opened a punnet with a pop, sliding the blanket, and whoever was on top of it, to face the lake. He sat down beside Sam, raking in the view of his secret hideout.
"This is perfect," Sam said, propping himself on his forearms. Puck dipped his strawberry into the chocolate and fed it to Sam.
"It gets better." And as if on cue, the hundreds of tiny fireflies that were cloaked by darkness illuminated themselves. Above the lake, they added to the luminous and magical atmosphere, sticking to the inside of the water's perimeter and glowing amorously. "Told ya."
"Wow." Sam's eyes glazed over, immersed in the illustration in front of him. "Loro yuey."
"What?" Puck asked absentmindedly, coating another strawberry.
"Oh, nothing," Sam dismissed, allowing Puck's fingers to split his lips and push the fruit in his mouth. Smacking his lips, Sam asked, "Where did you become friends Laura and Yasmin?"
"Well-" Puck licked excess chocolate from his fingertips "- I met Yasmin from Fight Club. The girl is crazy tough, and through her I met Laura. They're anything but normal - but that's why they're so great." By the way Puck sighed, Sam could tell how much he cared for the two. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy tickle his spine.
"Cool," Sam replied, nodding. He twitched as he felt Puck's fingers entwine with his. His fear subsiding, Sam let his more affectionate emotions take its place. He looked up, drawn to the intense gaze of Pucks deep hazel eyes. Seconds later their lips collided, the atmosphere of affection overthrown by lust. Sam was almost desensitized by the speed of how things progressed, and once he recovered he gently separated Puck's lips from his jaw.
"I can't," he apologized. "Not today. Sorry." Sam sat rather rigid, a sense of awkwardness clouding his thought. Puck's arm fell limp to his side, and he exhaled a breath. It was more one of adoration than frustration. He pondered on his thoughts before setting a voice to them.
"You know," he started casually, "If a girl turned me down I would have got really crammy. But with you... I'm kind of fine just watching the fireflies and not getting any." Sam blushed, placing his hands in his lap. His thumbs twiddled with nervous thoughts. "I guess we have time for one song."
Puck stood up, walking to a hollow tree and retrieving his guitar from its trunk. "I had Laura take me here to bring Laura here before. It's Laura-ception. And I called the tree Fiona for some reason. But I'm just glad no one came here and stole it, and I'm not sure why I wanted it in the tree - for dramatic effect or something-"
Sam stifled a giggle. "Just shut up and sing."
Rolling his eyes, Puck began to strum chords until he was playing a full song. Sam grinned, biting his lip to retain his anticipation. He knew the song - he had it recited from memory when it first came out. It was probably the subconscious-at-the-time crush he had on its original singer.
"I don't want another pretty face...
I don't want just anyone to hold...
I don't want my love to go to waste...
I want you and your beautiful soul..."
Puck twirled around the blanket in time with the music, and Sam twisted his head to maintain his view.
"I know that you are something special...
To you I'd be always faithful...
I want to be what you always needed...
Then I hope you'll see the heart in me..."
Puck, behind his smiling stage face, was hoping that Sam was receiving the message embedded in the song. It was a simple one, really, and hopefully it was obvious. Sam had a "beautiful soul," even with Puck's obvious bias. He couldn't really fathom where all these body image issues were popping up from: with a friend like Finn, Sam really couldn't think of himself anything but completely ripped. And he was. But he didn't see it. Which just didn't make any sense.
"You might need time to think it over...
But I'm just fine moving forward...
I'll ease your mind...
If you give me the chance...
I will never make you cry c`mon let's try..."
Something in the last line triggered a pause in Sam. For some reason, a simple arrangement of words made his split grin face turn to a thoughtful line. Apparently Puck noticed too, as his guitar playing faltered, so Sam rubbed an eye with his hand and returned to smiling.
"Am I crazy for wanting you...?
Maybe do you think you could want me too...?
I don't wanna waste your time...
Do you see things the way I do...?
I just wanna know that you feel it too...
There is nothing left to hide..."
Puck didn't realize how a pop song could have such a deep meaning. You know, once he actually analyzed the lyrics he was singing. The relevance was somewhat shocking, and he hoped he could brave through Sam's cemented self-esteem and show him how good he really was.
"I don't want another pretty face...
I don't want just anyone to hold...
I don't want my love to go to waste...
I want you and your beautiful soul...
You're the one I wanna chase...
You're the one I wanna hold...
I won't let another minute go to waste..."
Puck knelt on the floor and locked eyes with Sam, weighting his voice with sincerity.
"I want you and your beautiful soul."
Puck just managed to swing his guitar safely onto his back before Sam cupped his cheeks and guided him into a kiss full of love and thanks. The kiss was chaste, yet affectionate, with a salty taste Puck couldn't quite comprehend. Pulling back, he easily identified the taste as tears. Wiping a stray one from his boyfriend's cheek, he looked perplexed. "Don't cry."
Sam laughed, sniffles hitching his breath. "I don't even know why I am." He took a restorative breath and combed his hair away from his face, jerking forward as he felt a hand soothe his back.
"Sorry," Puck apologized, looking docilely at the floor. "I'm not the best at comforting people."
Sam laughed again, gripping the fleece he was sitting on. He leaned back into the hand ghosting his back and was silent for a few minutes, letting his breathing return to normal. Puck didn't know whether or not to break the apparently rehabilitating silence. He began tracing circles on Sam's back, which turned into a gentle drumming as time passed.
After a while his idleness got the better of him, tackling Sam into his embrace, and they rolled together on the blanket. "Feeling better?" he asked, resting his jaw on Sam's shoulder.
"Yeah," Sam giggled, arms immobilized at his side.
"I don't actually know why I'm spooning you, because we were supposed to get picked up fifteen minutes ago."
"Aw," Sam pouted, "Can't we just stay for a little bit. Like this?" he sighed, lolling his head back onto Puck's chest.
"Hmmmm," Puck wondered, tightening his grip around Sam. "Okay."
Puck exited the car, walking around it to open Sam's door.
"Thanks," he blushed. "I had the best time."
"Yeah," Puck smiled, "me too."
"I'll see you at school on Monday."
"A whole three days?" he said, moue with puppy dog eyes.
Sam laughed, leaning in to kiss Puck. He noticed the somewhat obtrusive stares from his drivers and decided on an intimate hug instead. "Thanks."
"You said that already," Puck grinned, "I'll walk you to the door."
"Oh," Sam flushed, "That's okay. I forgot my keys so I have to jump the fence." He began hastily walking up the stone path to the side gate. He unlatched it, and entered without a backwards glance. He waited for some time, just pacing outside in the backyard, waiting until the gentle purr of an engine drifted away.
Sam waited a little longer after that before slipping back out the gate and walking down the street.
He walked, without a phone or watch to remind him of the time, with a somewhat detached face. The crunch of broken glass under his shoes and the smell of tobacco alerted Sam to his location before his sight did. Walking up the steps to Room 9 of the Ohio House Motel, Sam jammed his key in the lock and entered the room that was now his home.
Okay, well, if this doesn't sound horrible. I tried FEELINGS, and oh how I didn't make it work.
Puck can cook. Who could've guessed. It's somewhat inspired from nubianamy's amazing work because I'm reading all of her stories and they're just so amazing it's like a real book it's so perfect it makes me wanna cry
Anyway, I split this into two, because originally there was going to be another scene but that is for the next chapter. Uhm but yes I think I have lost my writing talent (even though there was barely any of it in the first place) BUT BECAUSE THERE AREN'T MANY SPUCK FICTIONS ON FF RIGHT NOW I GUESS I'LL KEEP WRITING GOD FORBID I love you all please don't hate me for writing such a horrible story for such an amazing pair