A/N: Hey. Hope your Holidays were awesome and Happy New Year! Well, here it is chapter five of the Best of Friends. Blainecedes in this chapter. Yes I made him straight, but don't come at me with pitchforks. It works for the direction this is heading. This will probably be the last chapter before the time-jump. Any feedback or ideas are appreciated. Enjoy and R&R!
Chapter Five
Puck walked into the house, waving goodbye to Mercedes with renewed energy. Like many boys his age, Puck had already forgotten about the warnings and threats that had come a few hours earlier, and was all wound up on the fun that he had experienced.
"Oh Noah thank god!" Mama Puckerman ran in, hugging and kissing Puck as if she hadn't known where he was.
"Chill Mama Puckerman! I'm right here." Puck laughed. He noticed the serious expression on his grandma's face and stopped. "What's wrong?"
"It's nothing baby. I'm just glad you're safe. I was getting worried when Mercedes didn't call."
Puck wrapped his arms around his grandma, thoughts rushing a mile a minute. What if Santana's right?
That thought stayed with him as Mama Puckerman tucked him into bed, but vanished with the first peek of sunshine.
"Bye Mama Puckerman! I'll be back in time for lunch." The boy ran until he was in the woods once again and waiting.
The time dragged, seconds became minutes, and soon the boy's impatience became too much. Where is he? He's supposed to be here.
Puck ran through the woods, bursting out, and trying to remember which direction the two boys had went the day before. He noticed a flattened brush, and recognized it as the one Mercedes had been pushed into. He concentrated replaying the scene in his mind. They went left… but it wasn't a straight left. He saw the path they had taken in his mind. That's it!
Puck nearly whooped as he ran the same path that Blaine and his brother had taken, hoping that he could find his best friend.
Finn sat on the porch, his dad's words keeping him frozen in place. I don't get what happened. He turned as he heard footsteps on the porch. His brother sat on the other end of the porch, smirking to himself. I need to get some answers. Finn decided, as he ran over to his brother and sat beside him.
"Blaine! Blaine! I hafta ask you something."
Blaine rolled his eyes. "Haven't you done enough?"
Finn scowled. "Why was Dad so mad?" Then his glare turned accusatory. "You told! You told about Puck!"
Blaine shook his head. "It was for your own good Finn. People like them bring nothing but trouble." He would know.
He had met her when he was seven. She was the daughter one of Shelby's best friends and one of her best students. Mercedes was great. She was nice and talented and she and Blaine soon became inseparable.
"Aren't you the little Casanova?" Mom would joke, making Blaine uncomfortable.
"Mom, we're just friends!" He grew scarlet.
"Sweetie, she isn't going to wait forever. Ask her out." Mom teased. "She doesn't stop talking about you, so what have you got to lose?" This was the night before Blaine turned ten, and getting permission from his Mom to ask a girl out was a big deal.
The date was set for Saturday night. It was just a picnic in the woods, but it had to go perfect. And it did.
"Blaine, this has been the best night ever." Mercedes and Blaine lay side by side, looking at the stars, and Blaine knew then that he had found the perfect girl.
"Blaine, what's wrong?" As soon as he had seen his Mom grab the suitcase, he grabbed the phone.
"She's gone. She left Mercedes."
"Ooh, Blaine, I'm so sorry Honey."
"I gotta go, Dad's coming, but will I see you tomorrow?" Blaine asked.
"Of course Hon. See you tomorrow. G'night."
Blaine stood in sock feet, as Dad hammered him.
"I don't want to hear you singing again." That quiet sentence, and the ease with which it fell from Dad's mouth made Blaine go cold; everything turned upside down, and there was no righting it.
"Dad, I'm sorry, and I know we woke you up, but this isn't fair!" SMACK!
Blaine fingered his cheek; it was warm from the slap. He looked up with child eyes. He couldn't believe it.
Things changed drastically. Everything was turned inside out. The lump of hatred for his father grew, and resulted in arguments every day… with his father and Finn.
But he knew, his defiance had to stop, if not for his Father's sake, then for Finn's, and he knew the only way to make sure that it didn't ruin his little brother's birthday was to end things with Mercedes for good.
"You're wrong you know." Finn said.
Blaine looked at Finn. "Am I? Am I really?" He lay back on the porch, and Finn scooted away.
"Finn!" Finn heard someone eagerly shouting his name, and sneaked a sideways glance at Blaine. He smiled as he observed a cord extending all the way down to his pant legs. He's too busy with angry birds to notice. Slowly with the stealth of a cat, he walked over to his best friend.
"Dude, shut up! Not so loud." Finn laughed.
"What are you chicken? C'mon, we're burning daylight!" Puck nearly shouted.
Finn looked around, and then ever so slowly crept in between the fence posts until he was out of his yard.
"I knew you weren't chicken Finesa. I'll race ya!" Puck ran, not even waiting for his friend.
Finn looked around, watching and waiting for the inevitable; and Puck circled back around. "Dude, C'mon!"
Why is this so hard? Why do I feel like I'm gonna do something wrong? Finn shook his head. "I don't think this is a good idea."
Puck looked at his friend. "Don't think, just come." Puck pulled Finn by his arm, but still the boy wouldn't budge. "Finn what's wrong?"
"I don't know if we can be friends anymore."
"That ain't funny Finn." Puck said. "Stop messing around."
Finn felt someone watching, and fear grabbed hold of him. "Get out of here!" he shouted, then the shot.
_p&f_
Puck saw the bullet, and froze. It was slow motion. "Puck! Go!" Finn was running towards the porch, towards his brother who held the gun. Puck felt a choking sensation as he ran; hitting the dirt as the bullet swam past, only just nicking his sleeve.
Puck looked back, only a tiny peek, but it was enough. He longed for Finn to be beside him, sneaking away from his brother and going to play in the woods. Shake it off Puckerman. You ain't a sissy. He scolded himself, trying to channel his dad's anger into his thoughts. His dad had always thought that he was too much of a pansy, and he had left when Puck was four; not even bothering to try to fight to see his son. It worked. Puck ran fast and hard, not looking back, not even thinking about the boy behind the fence. He didn't stop until he reached his porch steps. He collapsed, finally feeling safe enough to release his emotions. Santana had been right all along.
"Noah, you're home early." Mama Puckerman peeked through the screen. "Oh Noah, what's wrong?" She opened the door and knelt beside her grandson. The elderly woman inspected the child and noticed a hole in his shirt sleeve. Oh dear. Oh dear lord.
"H…he…" Puck could barely even finish the sentence for all the tears that came fast and hard flowing down.
"Oh honey. There's no rush. Let's go inside. You can help me get lunch ready." Mama Puckerman held her hand out for her grandson as they both walked inside.
The phone rang just as Mama Puckerman put the pot on the stove. "Noah, watch that for me will you?" She looked sadly at her grandson as she took the cordless phone into the living room
Puck sighed as he pulled the chair up closer to the stove and sat down. He felt awful, no other way to say it. He just felt awful. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous. He could barely look at the pot boiling on the stove without wanting to barf. He remembered the bullet, barely coasting his sleeve, he remembered the panic and the betrayal, but most of all he remembered that day. He remembered that day as the first time he actually saw a gun in action. Puck remembered the glass breaking; he remembered his mom pushing him onto the floor of the car as it went straight for her. He remembered her not answering his screams. He felt empty, hollow even. Why did he always have to get hurt?
Clink Clink!Puck stood on the chair trying to hold the lid on the pot. It was moving so fast that he had to hold it with two hands. "Mama Puckerman! The lid's ready to explode!" Puck was laughing as he nearly fell off the chair.
"He seemed to really get a kick out of that Mercedes. Thank you for taking him." Mama Puckerman said.
"Not a problem Mrs. P. New Directions loved him."
"I just hope you know what you're doing Hon. He's in enough trouble as it is."
"I know. We'll take care of him. He's one of us now."
"Mama Puckerman!" Mama Puckerman heard her grandson calling from the kitchen.
"I gotta let you go Hon. You have a good evening." Mama Puckerman hung up the phone and ran into the kitchen. "Oh my!" She ran over to the pot and quickly turned off the heat.
"I thought it was going to explode." Puck said as he jumped off the chair.
"Well," Mama Puckerman laughed. "Thank you for not letting the pot explode. You did really well."
Puck smiled a tiny bit before letting it falter. "Mama Puckerman, I'm not that hungry."
Mama Puckerman looked at Puck, and put a hand to his forehead. "You aren't getting sick are you? Go upstairs and get some rest. I'll keep it warm for you just in case you get hungry."
Puck nodded as he made his way upstairs. He threw himself on the bed, suddenly feeling very tired. He slept for the rest of the day.