lormenari | ( puck/sam verse: lima gig )

They're playing a gig in Lima, their first since they left home, and Sam has mixed feelings about it. On one hand, they sound awesome. It's familiar, this dingy venue, one of the only spots for live music in town. They played here a lot when they were just starting out. It has memories. Sam fell off the stage once and sprained three fingers on his right hand, which drove him crazy because he couldn't play for weeks afterwards. Puck once stripped onstage and threw his pants into crowd, then played the encore in his Star Wars boxers (Puck claimed he didn't steal them from him, but Sam knows his underwear doesn't just disappear from his room). They'd gotten in trouble with the manager for that one, but it'd been totally worth it.

On the other hand, it's almost surreal being back where they started. It feels like an entire lifetime ago, a lifetime Sam doesn't particularly want to go back to. He still recognizes some of the faces in the crowd, people they went to high school with who are still stuck here. There are new faces as well, the younger crowd - McKinley students with fake IDs. Sam used to be one of them, along with Puck; they came here all the time to see whatever band was nice enough to make a stop in Bumfuck, Ohio. There's one face that stands out to him, dancing in the crowd near the front of the stage. Quinn. Puck told her she could hang out in the wings during the gig, but when the show started, she said she wanted to experience it like everyone else does. She's the most striking presence there; sure, there are tons of beautiful girls in the crowd, but Quinn has always lived a plane above the others. Sam couldn't bring himself to get it up for a vagina even if he tried, but there's something special about Quinn, something that Sam knows Puck sees as well. She's dancing with her hair loose around her face, her arms raised as she sings along, and Puck's eyes keep gravitating toward her.

It's the end of the set, and Sam is sweaty and tired - tired from playing, tired of watching Puck and Quinn and their strange wordless communication back and forth during the gig. The buzz he usually gets from playing live, the rush of adrenaline and the pure joy, it's strangely absent tonight. He's just off, and he's been off ever since they've been back in Lima. Puck is hopping all over the place, yelling into the mic and thanking the crowd. Sam waves and slides his guitar off, setting it down. The venue is small; backstage is basically stifling since the AC is out in half the rooms, and all Sam really wants to do is hit the bar and get drunk.

"Hey," Sam says, raking his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. "Do you wanna do shots?"

Threaded | Flat

Every so often, they end up back at this spot, playing a gig. It's where their roots are, and where the memories are, and where the fans and their band [is it a band?] really started, and it's usually pretty sweet playing here. Sure, it's Lima, and they know most of the groupies in Lima, but the beer's on the house and they know the owner of the place pretty well, and the place is fucking packed because it's Puck and Sam and everybody knows Puck and Sam [and if they don't know Puck and Sam, they know Quinn, and they know that Puck's her rockstar boyfriend and that's enough to make them curious even if they don't know the backstory, about McKinley and Beth and Finnocence]. He swears he sees Coach Beiste there, and maybe Mr. Schue somewhere in the background, but it's been something like six years since they've graduated from McKinley and it's not like he's really bothered to keep in touch with anybody.

He's there with Quinn; they'd been asked to play the gig, and he'd automatically said yes and passed the where and the when on to Quinn. She's his girlfriend, not necessarily his beard, because he actually does love her. It's just a fucking mess because he loves his best friend, too, and he actually pregames before the gig just so he won't think about what'll happen afterwards. Because they're in Lima and Quinn's out with them, and it's not Guys' Night and he's pretty fucking sure that Quinn both assumes and expects that they'll spend the night together. He hates the knowledge that he's going to come home the next day - if he does that - and see Sam's eyes, big and blue and betrayed, like a kicked puppy.

He jumps around the stage and keeps his pants on [this time, 'cuz he's totally going commando under these jeans, and he's pretty sure there would be a smackdown if he flashed Puckasaurus Sex to the crowd in front of both Quinn and Sam] and shouts at the crowd, spinning and showing off 'cuz he's pretty buzzed and that's just what he does. Sam's quieter that he's usually seen him, even after their encore, and Puck unplugs the cables and swings his guitar around to rest on his back, high-fiving Sam as they head backstage. "Let me put the baby away and then we can find Q and do shots, okay, bro? Come on, come with me."

Text Message To: q From: puckzilla taking care of shit, find u in 5? love u

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