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. 

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“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.”