Posts tagged: my fic
On the last night Sam stays with Puck. And then, in the morning, he has to get up super early to head back home, pack up the rest of his stuff, and leave. But he writes a note first, so that Puck will know how much he means to Sam, and that he’ll never be alone in this world.
Sam looks over at Puck, asleep on his stomach in bed, the warm planes of his back rising and falling with his breath. Every single letter Sam had put down on the paper was true, and he hoped that Puck got that. He hoped he understood.
Because even if Sam moved away, he wasn’t moving on. He would come back, one day, and one day, it would be up to Puck to decide if he still loved Sam the way Sam loved him. Would always love him.
Because Sam would love Noah Puckerman until the day he died.
Sam had been distant for days now, smiling less and turning Puck down when he asked out hang out. Puck knew Sam’s family was having trouble now more than ever, since the motel charged by the night, and no matter how cheap it was, their minimal amount of money was going down the drain. Puck helped Rachel with the bake sales they said were for Glee but gave part of the money to Sam, slipped in his back pocket or into his letterman’s jersey. He never accepted the money straight out, but never said anything when he found the wad of bills in his pocket, looking astonished as he glanced quickly around the room. Puck always smiled at him, soft, quiet, just for him.
“If Puck had maybe been a little less worried over Artie, small and pale in his wheelchair, he might have put his mind to flirting with the Intern. But as it was, Artie needed worrying over, so Puck just smiled tightly and nodded at Sam’s directions and left with just a little less of that tight feeling in his chest.”
“As much as Puck hated it, he got used to the looks Artie was sent while walking on the streets, but it didn’t make him want to punch people any less when they sent looks of annoyance in their direction. Puck, really, really wanted to punch those people.”
“Sometimes, Puck would come with Artie out on the town, taking the bus up first avenue to go to central park. It was a long trip, but they both enjoyed just relaxing there, bringing books or music or just talking and walking. Puck would help Artie on to the bus, waving off the driver when they went to buckle in Artie’s chair.
Puck already knew how to do that, he’d learned after two rides and ever since had done it himself. He could tell Artie didn’t mind and Puck liked doing it. Afterwards, he’d always position himself in the space not occupied by the chair and stood the whole way, wedged into the small space, content.”
“Sometimes, people would look at him like he was fucking kidnapping Artie, because he was kind of big compared to this little guy in a wheelchair, motoring along the streets of Manhattan with blue wheels on his chair and a huge fucking smile. But Puck would always wheel him onto the bus, strap him in and stand with him no matter what people looked at him like. He would wheel him over the potholed streets and catch him when the chair gets caught.
Puck knew it was a sight to behold. If people thought he and Artie were an odd pair in high school, he could only imagine what they thought now. Artie filled out a little, but he was still skinny and had the huge glasses and big ears and dorky haircut. Puck shaved off the dumb mow-hawk and filled out even more, his muscles staying the same, but his physique changing and settling as he broke his twenties.”
“They got an apartment on the first floor, cheap. The landlady hadn’t really wanted to give it to them, but they were paying renters, and the apartment was crappy as shit and they didn’t mind. All they needed was enough room for Artie’s chair to maneuver, which they got.
For the first few days, before Artie’s bed arrived in the mail, Puck had to lift him out of his chair every night and onto the mattress on the floor. It startled Puck, really, how light Artie was, how small he seemed when he was out of his chair, kept safe and mobile by the metal. Artie was tired too, from their moving, going out on the city, and he was pale, and Puck felt a swooping affection in his gut for his best friend.
Coming here with him, with nothing and for nothing, might have been one of the best choices of his life.”
It’s no secret I love PuckArtie BFFs 4eva. And PuckSam.
I was on the bus with my dad today and I saw what seemed like two kids (around 14) helping what seemed like their mother, who was in a wheelchair, on to the bus. The boy already knew how to work all the buckles on the bus and everything, and my heart clenched and I thought about Glee (lol).
So I came up with this idea where Artie really wants to go to NYC so Puck goes with him, because he has nothing in Lima anyways, and Puck helps Artie with all the stuff that’s hard for a guy in a wheelchair to do in a city with tiny, cramped sidewalks and apartments with stairs and no elevators. Like Puck helping him on to the bus sometimes, standing near him.
I think what really gets me is that Puck looks so intense and scary, especially since he’s older and has shaved off that dumb mow-hawk. He’s bigger and intense, but he’s a super sweetie and now that he’s started over, he has the opportunity to give up his bad-boy rep.
I just love the idea of Puck and Artie walking places and Puck being super protective but still awesome and giving Artie his space.
And then I talked to Paloma about the idea, and she helped me flesh it out further.
Artie gets sick one day, and Puck has to wheel him to the doctor’s office, and since it’s an unscheduled sick visit, they get a new doctor, and it’s Sam.
And that’s as far as I got.
So don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here writing fic about Puck being a father. Like, a legit father. Not with Quinn. Oh ho ho ho.
The Ink On My Skin
Noah Puckerman/Sam Evans (Background Finn/Rachel, Santana/Brittany, others)
NC-17 overall, G this section
Inspired by the lovely Eden who was helping me come up with an idea to write and has since then put up with my craziness. Hurr Hurr enjoy! The entire story will be posted to Lj once it’s finished.