Glee 1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hi, so I know I have another story in here, but I'm going to revise that one and figure out what I want to do with it. After weeks of planning and getting everything ready as well as the chapter outlines, this is the outcome! I plan to start a novel sometime soon and in hopes of practicing for it, I am doing this fanfic. It's kind of an idea I've always wanted to try, and who knows? You might see more stories from me or even one-shots for practice.

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**Chapter One**

**-June, 2012-**

The sound of metal clanking against metal was almost music to his ears-a welcome distraction to all of the thoughts that constantly ran through his head at all hours of the day. While it wasn't abnormal to hear all of the noise given the fact that he was a mechanic at the local car shop, Sam couldn't help but appreciate it on this particular day. Nightmares had plagued him all night, and, sadly, he was used to it.

Sighing as he wiped his sweaty forehead on the arm of his coveralls, he looked down at his work and smiled triumphantly. It had taken him a good hour to finally fix the engine, and now that it was done, he could go home. He was already on overtime since Daniel was forced to call out of work, but since Sam had moved to San Diego, he was willing to do almost anything for money. There were only so many trips to and from work that Sam could take from Puck without slowly going insane. Sure, he lived with the guy, but sometimes the blond couldn't help but roll his eyes whenever they passed a pretty girl—Puck's eagerness to voice his attraction being extremely embarrassing.

Sam spent another minute or two cleaning up the hood and making sure everything was okay with the BMW before he turned and walked to the office in the corner of the shop. Knocking on the window, he peeped his head in the open door way. "Hey Jack, I just finished the BMW. Is there anything else you need before I leave?"

The older, brown headed man turned in his chair away from the computer and gave Sam a crooked smile. "You finally finished with that thing?"

"Yeah," Sam chuckled. "The engine needed some new parts and it just took a little too long but I finally got it done."

"Swell! Nah, Evans, there's nothing else I need you to do. You're done for the day and I'll see you tomorrow!"

Sam smiled and nodded. "I'll see you too, Jack."

Turning, he headed back to the BMW and shut the hood before taking out the rag in the back of his coveralls and wiping his hands down. His mind began to run away as he felt the cloth moving in and out between his fingers, a flash of a face suddenly appearing in his mind and everything seemed to go dark. He was still standing but his heart beat quickened, his hands and forehead suddenly began to sweat from stress, and his hands were clenching the rag so tightly he almost ripped it in half.

Anger swelled inside of him as memories he failed to forget continued to run through his mind, and just as Sam thought he was slowly going to go insane, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whipped his head around—almost ready to pound on the person before he noticed just who it was. Puck.

"Woah, dude! Calm down! Did you have a bad day or something?"

Shaking his head and trying to calm down like his best friend said, Sam took in a deep breath and let it out. "I-I'm fine…Let's just go home, okay? I got that thing to go to at four."

"Oh yeah," his mohawked friend said. Releasing Sam's shoulder, Puck began making his way over to his truck, even nodding his head at a guy he had come to know over the weeks he had been picking Sam up. "Aren't you supposed to be a model or some shit?"

"Yeah, I get like a hundred bucks from it, though."

"It's better than nothing. You're seriously like five hundred dollars away from getting that car Jack said he'd sell you."

Not saying another word, Sam opened the passenger side of Puck's truck and jumped inside. As soon as he was seated, he leaned his head back against the seat and sighed deeply, his motto briefly leaving his lips quietly as he closed his eyes.

"Another day, another dollar." …_And another step closer to finally getting away from this_.

* * *

Dark brown eyes scanned the campus lawn as a Bruno Mars song blasted in her ears, the white iPod ear buds dangling like earrings from her small lobes. She had been stuck on Runaway Baby for the past hour—the song having been stuck in her head for weeks now for no apparent reason. While it did wonders to help her musical inspiration whenever she was in the studio, it seemed to only kill her desire to study as Mercedes attempted to finish the summer semester as quickly as possible.

It was the promise she had made to her father that kept her on the UCLA campus whenever she wasn't singing her heart out. If she wanted to be a super star then she'd have to at least get a degree in something and, with pure luck, Mercedes was able to enroll and major in UCLA's Film and Television program. Her father was apprehensive at first, but after seeing her grades for her freshman year, he decided to let up and let her do as she pleased. Plus, it certainly helped that within two years of being in LA Mercedes was snatched up by none other than Shelby Corcoran—famed manager of stars in the city of angels. That had easily won her father over. She was happy that he was happy, but Mercedes couldn't help but want to focus more on her music than anything else, and at this current point in time, her four thirty art class was just a pain in her butt.

Sighing, Mercedes stood from her place on the bench where she had been enjoying the bright sun, only to pause before she could even take a step as her iPhone buzzed in her jeans. An eyebrow rose in curiosity, but as soon as she had seen the name of the sender, she couldn't help but giggle quietly.

Quinn Fabray had been her best friend since middle school, and from the moment the blonde had come at as a lesbian, the two had somehow become even closer.

**Mercy!** The text read. **She actually winked at me today. I think she might like me back. Wish me luck. **

The dark haired girl sent a supportive text in reply before pocketing the phone in her purse. Mercedes had never met the girl who currently held the object of her best friend's affections, but if she made Quinn happy, who was she to object?

Walking across campus passed by more quickly than normal as Mercedes made her way to the main art building. She received another text from Quinn—something about how a man at Yale was wearing jeggings and looking rather ballsy—and another from Kurt, her stylist and other best friend.

She entered her classroom in record time, and as soon as she sat down in her seat and got comfortable, she took out her phone again and reread the text from Kurt._ That's right_... She thought. _Auditions are tomorrow_…

Frowning at the reminder that she was in dire need of a guitar player for her band, Mercedes quickly shook off the feeling and took an ear bud out of her ear. She still had another three minutes or so before class started, and if she wasn't ready as soon as the clock hit four thirty, her teacher had no problem throwing people out. The man did not play when it came to art and he had made that painfully obvious on the first day when he had thrown Mercedes out for not having the right materials.

"All right class!" The teacher, Mr. Aaron, shouted as soon as he entered the room. Quickly, his blue eyes scanned his students, and once he saw everyone was ready with sketchbooks out and pencils ready, he couldn't help but smile. "I have a treat for you today. I know you're tired of drawing flowers and vases and all of that crap, so I took it upon myself to hire a model."

At the sound of vague excitement, Mr. Aaron rolled his eyes. "Don't sound so excited class, I had a feeling you guys would've preferred a real life model instead of what we have been working on, but if I was mistaken—" Several people in the class replied back in disagreement, making Mercedes giggle behind her hand. "That's what I thought! So now, without further ado, I give you...your model."

Mercedes rolled her eyes at the dramatic entrance Mr. Aaron attempted. Just as she was about to turn away from him in favor of sneaking an ear bud back into her ear, her eyes immediately zeroed in on just whom exactly would be her new model and she couldn't help but widen her eyes, just like the others.

He was tall—a good head taller than she was and his hair was gold in color. His eyes looked like a deep green that she could easily get lost in, and she couldn't help but notice the small, black gauges that filled his ear lobes. Gorgeous didn't even begin to describe him, and Mercedes would have had no problem whatsoever in admitting that she may have stared at his full lips much longer than generally acceptable.

_Good thing I'll be staring at him for the next hour and a half for a grade_, she thought.

Looking down at her blank piece of sketch paper and then back up at the model, Mercedes smirked. Oh yeah, this was gonna be fun.

She had his eyes almost perfect within ten minutes, and then she moved down to his nose and lips. She didn't have the best angle in the class, but Mercedes was more than happy to draw out the long lashes the seemed to almost tickle his eyebrows as he looked almost stoically across the room. Sitting down and in a relaxed position, his green orbs just stared at nothing, but with each breath the man took she could see hints of an almost perfect body underneath the shirt he wore.

Mercedes didn't normally go for hipsters, but the way he looked in the beanie made it decided that she'd ask for his name after class.

As soon as the clock ticked six, she was up and out of her seat and headed towards the teacher while the model stretched and groaned as the bones in his body seemed to pop. She was so obviously distracted by the whole display that she failed to notice the smirk on Mr. Aaron's face as she handed in her sketch.

"Have a wonderful day, Ms. Jones," Mr. Aaron joked.

She didn't even bother to mutter a reply.

* * *

Sam groaned quietly as he rolled his neck, effectively popping a bone that ultimately soothed the ache that had been torturing him for the past twenty minutes.

He moved around a bit more as he waited for the class to vacate the room—almost too eager to just get his money and run as soon as he could. The less time he spent here meant more time he could be spending at home and in the safety of his apartment back in San Diego. The hour or so drive would be worth it as soon as he had that $100 in his back pocket.

Just as Sam was about to jump off of the tiny pedestal that he had been ordered to be displayed on, a tiny woman appeared in front of him. Eyebrows knitted in slight confusion, his eyes widened slightly as she smiled.

"Hi."

Narrowing his eyes slightly, he nodded. "…Hi."

"So what's your name? Do you just do this for fun or did Mr. Aaron tell you to do this for extra credit?"

_Why is she talking to me...?_ Sam backed up slightly towards Mr. Aaron and gave the girl a nervous smile. "I just volunteered for some extra cash."

The short girl giggled, and he swallowed against the feeling in his stomach as he refused to acknowledge how adorable she looked.

"Not that I want you to spend it so soon, but what would you say to getting a drink with me? Here, I'll even pay my half—"

"Look," he said a little too loudly as his right hand rose in a 'back off' motion. "I'm sorry, but I don't really have any interest in getting a drink. I have somewhere else to be."

Immediately, the girl's dark brown eyes widened, and the redness coloring her cheeks had Sam gulping nervously. Her mouth tightened in a little line, and before he even knew what was going on, she was thrusting her pointer finger in his face.

"Now you look here! I was trying to be nice but if you want to go ahead and be rude then... then…" her voice quieted as she thought of the right word, only to whisper, "Go fuck yourself," before she was exiting the classroom in a huff.

"Don't worry about her," Sam heard Mr. Aaron say behind him after several quiet moments. "She's a feisty one, but she'll get over it in a couple of days."

Turning to the older man, Sam gulped more visibly and shook his head slightly. Mr. Aaron merely chuckled before giving the blond haired boy the money he had been promised and within a matter of seconds, Sam was out the door and jogging to Puck's truck that he could see across the lawn.

"How was that thing?" Puck asked him later on once they were situated inside their apartment back in San Diego.

Opening a beer as he plopped onto the couch, Sam sighed and took a swig. "It was all right but I don't think I can do it again. Some girl got mad because I didn't go get a drink with her."

"What?! Why didn't you? I would've waited. Hell, I would've gone with you and picked up a girl myself," Puck argued as he sat down beside Sam.

"You know how it is, Puck. I couldn't do that to her."

"So what? Are you just gonna become a hermit and not be with anyone? You can't do that, dude. You deserve to be happy."

Sam scoffed at that before taking another sip of his beer. Not even looking at his best friend, he set the bottle on his knee as he glared at the wood floors of his apartment. After several quiet moments, Puck sighed and hung his head as he ran a hand through his mohawk.

"Look, dude," Puck said quietly as he gave Sam a look. "I know you're not one to quickly jump into relationships and shit, and I understand that, but you can't just continue on like this."

"Continue on like what? I'm sorry, but I'm not going ruin someone else's life before I can't even get my own fixed up."

"I didn't mean it like that. Jeez. Just… be willing to take chances, all right?"

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed—moving deeper into the couch as he attempted to get somewhat comfortable. Once he realized that it was futile, he stood and made his way to his bedroom door. Just as he was about to go in and finally attempt a couple of hours of sleep, Puck forced a piece of paper into his hand. Knitting his eyebrows together in curiosity, he gave Puck a hesitant look.

"There's an audition tomorrow—I thought you might be interested. Some new singer in LA is in need of a guitarist and I know you'd probably be the best one for the job," Puck muttered. "Just take a chance."

It was quiet then as Puck moved to his own bedroom and closed the door, leaving Sam in the hall way with his thoughts.

He knew he was right, but was it really in his best interest to—_No_, Sam thought as he squeezed his eyes shut.

If he wanted to make enough money to finally move out of California without having to worry anymore, he'd need some kind of high paying gig and by looking at the paper Puck had put into his hand, Sam had a feeling that this just might be the job he had been looking for.

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**A/N: **So what'd you think? Tell me in your review! I'll probably be updating sometime soon. I just need to write out the chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Does it start yet?"

Pursing her lips slightly in mild frustration, Mercedes turned her head towards Kurt who sat right beside her. He was picking at his nails in boredom, and had been asking the same question for a good fifteen minutes.

Shelby had contacted her before her eight a.m. class that morning to make sure Mercedes knew she had to be at the studio at exactly noon. They already had forty seven guitarists waiting to see if they would be the new band member, and even though they hadn't started yet, Mercedes was ready to go home. The calculus test she taken that morning had furthered her already sour mood that began yesterday, and nothing seemed to be helping it. Not even Kurt handing her, her favorite coffee helped! She knew right then and there she'd be in a mood for a while with no signs of stopping.

Mercedes 'hmphed' at that thought and crossed her arms as she snuggled down deeper into the padded chair she was sitting in.

The recording company wasn't able to get an auditorium or anything similar, but the giant boardroom they were currently in with a long desk set up in front of the doors was the best they could do. Mercedes still wasn't used to the treatment she was receiving—all the CEO's were even claiming she'd be the next Christina Aguilera—but a part of her knew that she should cherish it for as long as possible. Not every talent that was picked out of a crowed actually made it into the music industry, and Mercedes knew that. If she wanted to be the star she knew she was, she'd need the right people in her band, and that was exactly why they were currently holding auditions like they were.

"Is it even _close_ to starting soon?"

"Kurt!"

"What?! I'm just saying! We've been sitting here for almost twenty minutes now and my butt is starting to hurt."

Mercedes turned bemused eyes his way and he raised an eyebrow at her. After several seconds, his mouth widened and quickly shut.

"You, dear Mercy, are a freak."

Mercedes laughed loudly—attempting to cover her mouth with her hand as she tried to control her giggles. "I'm sorry but you set it up so perfectly!"

"I did nothing of the sort—"

"All right, ladies and gents," a female voice said. Turning their heads, Kurt and Mercedes saw Shelby Corcoran entering through the door in front of them.

She was dressed to a 'T' in five inch heels and just being around her told people why she was the best in the city. The air of pure talent and power that surrounded her was almost stifling, but her personality and her actions told a different story. Shelby was the best, but she was also the nicest and most giving out of all the others, and Mercedes knew she was lucky to have her.

"Now, the auditions are about to start. I just gave a little pep talk to the men and women behind that door, and trust me when I say that one of them shall be our Mercy's newest band member!" She announced as she rounded the corner of the table and took a seat right beside Mercedes. "Okay, Luke, open the doors and let in number one, please."

Across the room, a boy with shaggy brown hair and green eyes nodded as he went to open the heavy wooden doors. Hearing him shout for number one instantly made a knot appear in Mercedes' stomach and as time went on, it only got worse.

Person after person appeared and disappeared before them, and none of them even seemed qualified. There were a few that were exceptional guitarists, but when it came down to chemistry—something of which Shelby was adamant about—none of them seemed to fit. Mercedes could just look at them and know they weren't the right one, and by the time they had seen fifteen people, she was almost fed up.

Closing her eyes and willing away the oncoming headache, Mercedes turned to Shelby on her right and tapped her shoulder. "Ms. Shelby? I need to go use the bathroom, I'll be right back, okay?"

Shelby nodded—smiling tenderly as she watched Mercedes get up and go out the door to their left that led to the bathrooms. Turning to Luke, Shelby nodded again and he immediately went outside towards the other people auditioning and told them to take a five minute break.

In the inside of the bathroom, though, was a different story from the one outside in the boardroom. On the outside, everyone but Kurt was basically excited about all the possibilities, but Mercedes was far from excited. There was a giant ball of nerves in her stomach and a headache seemed to be forming that seemed to take over her entire brain. The stress of it all was getting to her and yet they had barely even begun. Would it be like this from now on?

"Mercedes?"

_Ugh. __**No**__._ "Go away, Rachel."

Hearing a scoff and knowing the petite brunette was probably rolling her eyes too, Mercedes squeezed her eyes shut. This was the last thing she needed.

"I just came in here to see if you were okay, but if you're throwing up in the stall, I won't be the one to stop you. I always did think you could lose five more pounds. And by five I mean fifty."

"Shut _up_ and leave me alone!" Mercedes near shouted from inside of the stall she was currently occupying. She held back tears as the insecurities she normally kept hidden away suddenly came to the surface, and it certainly didn't help after the model from her class yesterday turned her down for no apparent reason. Was she really that bad looking? _No. Stop it._

"I'm just trying to help. Really, I am. The world doesn't need more Adele's, Mercedes."

Right as she was about to retort back, Mercedes heard the door to the bathroom door open and close, signaling Rachel's leave.

For some unknown reason, Rachel had been a bitch to her from the day Mercedes had been picked up by Shelby. It was amazing how an amazing woman like Shelby could birth the bitch that was Rachel, but Mercedes knew she was stuck with her. Rachel was Shelby's assistant, and had never had any complaints against her before. How it hadn't happened before considering that it was completely plausible was astounding.

Mercedes took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Once she was sure she wouldn't start to cry from it all, she exited the stall and went over to the sink. Looking in the mirror, she managed a smile before ripping a paper towel from the dispenser and dabbing at her cheeks. It wouldn't be right to cry in front of her employers after all.

Several minutes passed and by the time she was back out in the boardroom and in her seat, Mercedes was tear free and looking like she did the moment she left. The headache was still there and continued on as they saw people that just didn't do it, but a part of her hope it'd get better soon.

She looked down at the paper in front of her that held all the names. At the rate they were going, they only had three more people left and then that was it. If they didn't find someone soon, who knew when she'd be able to continue on down the road to stardom?

"Oh…"

Whipping her head to the left, Mercedes raised an eyebrow at Kurt. She saw how he merely stared at something in front of her, and it wasn't until she turned her head and saw who it was that she understood.

"You!"

* * *

He was going to suck and he just knew it.

Running a hand through his hair and wishing he had washed it for a third time, Sam sat in the hallway waiting for his turn.

He was number forty four and third from the last. As soon as he had gotten there, he had immediately been given an MP3 with Mercy Jones' new single and a pair of headphones, and as soon as he was about to audition he was to give them right back. They told him it was so he could try and get a feel for her sound, and he had to admit it: this song was probably the best song he had heard in a while. The way her voice matched the music was uncanny unlike some of the artists out there today, and it was almost eerie how Sam already knew what he was going to play for the audition.

Unlike some of the other people around him who were strumming on their guitars, Sam let his Taylor 316-CE sit in its case. If he was going to suck even if he did know what he was going to play, it didn't mean he was going to possibly scratch up his baby because he was strumming a little too hard.

With a sigh, he bit his lip and leaned back against the wall—his head hitting the white wall with a slight thud. He could hear the person in front of him getting up and walking towards the door which meant only one thing: he was next.

In no time at all it seemed as if it was his turn, and after returning the MP3 to the man at the door ad carefully maneuvering his guitar through it, Sam took in a breath and walked to the middle of the room. He looked around nervously and saw a woman with long brown hair pointing to his guitar with a smile, but before he could even bend down to get out his instrument, the girl to the lady's left was yelling at him with wide eyes.

_Oh…__**shit**__._

"What are you doing here?!" The tiny girl yelled as she stood.

"Mercy, what's wrong?" He saw the older woman to her right say as she looked between them.

Yep, he was screwed. Sam scratched the back of his head and leaned down to pick up his guitar. "I'll just be going then."

"Wait!"

Sam stopped in his tracks at the sound of the older woman's voice, and by the time he did a one-eighty, the younger, smaller woman was sitting in her chair with a huff. Looking at the older woman, he waited for her next couple of words—his heart almost leaping into his throat as he remembered Puck's words. _Take a chance._

When the woman turned to him after talking to who he guessed was Mercy Jones, she smiled and the butterflies in his stomach lessened somewhat. "Sorry about that," she said. "Please continue. Play us what you've prepared."

Nodding, Sam sent a hesitant look Mercedes' way as he leaned down and set his guitar on the ground. He opened the case up and took it out, and within a matter of seconds he was ready and just waiting to start. He could see the looks on all the people's faces, and it did nothing to help the nerves attacking him, but when he began to play, none of it matter.

It started out slow, only to move forward and quicken just like the song he had listened to did. He didn't play the exact melody, but instead played a version of it—his own version. The chords he did were more minor than major, and by the time he had finished, he was slightly sweaty and could easily see the marks he had made on the pick guard. _Damn it._

"Wow."

Sam raised his head and looked at the guy next to Mercedes who he had heard. A small smile tugged on the edge of his lips, and for a moment, he studied Mercedes.

Her chocolate brown eyes were wide and her mouth was agape. Her face was similar to the older woman's beside her, but the older woman's facial expression was slightly less surprised—almost like she knew he'd do well.

"Wow, indeed," the older woman said. Standing, she rounded the table and made her way over to him, She took his hand in his and shook it firmly. "My name is Shelby Corcoran and I'm Mercy Jones' manager. It truly is a pleasure to meet you…?"

"Sam," he muttered. Clearing his throat, he smiled. "The name is Sam Evans, ma'am."

"Sam Evans…That sounds perfect. Don't you think, Mercedes?" Shelby turned her head and smiled at Mercedes who instantly sat up in her chair and attempted to smile. Shelby merely laughed quietly before turning back to Sam. "Are there other styles of music you can play? I saw on your application that you used to play in a couple of clubs back in Tennessee?"

Sam nodded. Biting his lip, he swallowed thickly. "Yes, ma'am. I can do country, alternative, a bit of jazz, I'm working on my more Spanish influenced stuff—"

"That's great! Please, play once more for us? Then you can stop."

He nodded again before taking in a shaky breath. Within a matter of seconds he was doing a medley of different styles and just like before, when he ended he saw the same look of surprise on Mercedes' face. Was he really that bad?

Looking at Shelby, he guessed he didn't if the smirk on her face was any indication.

"That was fantastic, Sam. Just fantastic. When can you start?"

"What?!"

Both Sam and Shelby's eyes widened slightly as they watched Mercedes walk around the table and come towards them. By the time she got near, Sam noticed how much taller she seemed to look compared to yesterday, but as he gave her a once over, he realized it was the four inch heels she wore. She was still at least six inches shorter than he was, though.

"What do you mean 'start'? You can't hire him!" Mercedes argued.

"Why not? He's the best one we've heard all day, and unlike the others, you've actually taken an interest in him."

Mouth open wide, Mercedes gaped at her manager before glaring at Sam. "Let's just say that he's not very _nice_."

"Look, Mercy, I'm sorry about yesterday alrigh—"

"No," she refused as she turned away from him and started walking back to the table. "I want someone different."

Sam watched as Shelby raised her eyebrow. The older woman turned to him with a sad smile before waltzing over to where Mercedes was. After a quick talk, Mercedes frowned deeply before Shelby walked over to him again. Smiling, she held out her hand for Sam to shake. "See you Monday for rehearsals? We'll give you all the details in an email."

Looking from her hand, to her face, over to Mercedes and back, Sam took in a deep breath. Reaching for her hand, he shook it and nodded—a small, sad smile on his lips as he saw Mercedes in the corner of his eyes cross her arms in a huff.

This was going to be torture, he just knew it.

* * *

**A/N:**

Do you still like it? Tell me in your reviews! Sorry it took so long, I was waiting to get it from my beta. I should have the third chapter up sometime soon, I already have part of it finished.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

He had gotten the email by the time he had gotten home yesterday. His phone had buzzed, and when he opened it, it was almost as if it was all becoming real-like the last several hours weren't just a dream.

As of noon yesterday, Sam had become the new guitar player for the biggest name in up and coming artists. Not only was Mercy Jones the favorite for almost every New Artist award this year, she was also a favorite for next year's Grammy's depending on how the rest of her album went. There were several songs out there on the radio that she was currently featured on and the one song from her album that had been leaked had easily worked its way onto the number one spot in almost every single national poll.

How Sam hadn't of recognized her before was astounding now that he thought about it. Maybe it was the fact that she had worn giant glasses, and was in what he considered "normal clothes". When she was just that girl in the classroom, she wasn't the star he had always expected Mercy Jones to be. She was… normal.

Shaking his head, Sam ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. Now that he had gotten the job, it also meant he had to deal with her, and that was something he had wanted to avoid—especially after how she acted. Mercedes was mad—_really_ mad. Hell, she didn't even like that fact that he had walked into the room yesterday! The amount of anger she had for him was astounding considering that he had just said no to a drink, but there was no way in hell he was going to deal with it if he didn't have to. Then again, dealing with it meant being in a band, and being in a band meant big bucks… Was he really willing to do the job even if it meant it'd make his face famous?

_Fuck it,_ Sam thought. _I don't need more stress, and I __**definitely**__ don't need to remind him that I'm living._

With it decided, he grabbed for his phone that was sitting on the counter next to him. He scrolled through the numbers until he found Shelby's name—the manager having given it to him in the email he had received yesterday. Just before he was about to click 'call', Puck waltzed into the living room, smiling triumphantly as he did so. Narrowing his eyes, Sam immediately knew why.

Walking right behind him was some chick obviously wearing yesterday's clothes. While she was cute in the face, her hair was disheveled, and the blond could only guess that she had been drunk the night before.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" The girl asked Puck as she leaned against the door frame of their front door.

Shrugging, Puck slowly began to close the door as he sent her a smirk. "I don't know… I have your number though, so I'll keep in touch."

The brunette seemed to take the answer with a smile before she turned and left, leaving Puck to slam the door and do a hip thrust in victory. Rolling his eyes, Sam went to the matter at hand and began to press the call button. Right before his thumb met the screen, he hesitated. Slowly turning his head towards his roommate, he jumped slightly when he saw Puck staring at him. "What?"

"What're you doing?"

Sam turned away from him and sighed. "Nothing."

"You're obviously doing something, and considering the name I saw on the screen, I would say that you were thinking about calling out of today's practice. You just started dude. Today is your first day and you're gonna bail?"

Sighing, the blond glared at his friend who was now standing behind the counter, in front of him. "Mercedes is pissed and obviously doesn't want me there, so why should I bother?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because her manager hired you 'cause she thought you were the best for the job?"

"That doesn't mean anything. If Mercedes doesn't want me there, then it's obviously not going to end well. I might as well end it now before I start."

Puck glared back at that—his hands on the counter as he began to lean towards his friend. "You've never been a quitter before… What's going on?" When Sam uttered 'nothing' again, he rolled his eyes. "No, seriously. Something's been up for the past month and I'm getting tired of you not telling me anything. Now… are you going to tell me or not?"

"I just…" Sam trailed off, resisting the urge to squeeze his hands as tightly as possible as the memories flooded him. "I just haven't been feeling well, is all."

While Sam said one thing, his body told Puck differently. He was tense and his eyes were shifty. Not only did he look like he didn't sleep at all, he also looked like he hadn't eaten in hours.

Sighing, Puck hung his head before regarding Sam with a worried look. "Is there anything I can do? You know… some cereal or something?"

Sam shook his head, but put away his phone—signaling that he was done with the idea of calling out of practice for now. Just as he was about to stand and go back to his room so he could try and get a couple of hours of sleep before practice began at two in the afternoon, a protein was set before him. Looking up at his friend, he gave him a quiet 'thank you' as he grabbed it and slowly retreated to his room.

Hours later as he rubbed at his temples, Sam began to wish he had called in sick or at least quit.

For the past hour they had been trying to practice, to come up with a sound and to create some sort of friendship between them—something Shelby wanted—and had failed miserably. It was as if no matter what he did, Mercedes would instantly defy him, argue with him, or completely ignore him, and he knew that had Shelby been there to watch it all, she would've had a migraine just like he did.

Hearing her scream in frustration, he lifted his head to see her a few feet away from him with her hand to her head. He narrowed his eyes in confusion before he it came to him: she had a massive headache too.

_If she knew that this wasn't going to end well then why doesn't she even try to work with me? She won't even try._ Huffing out a breath in frustration, Sam stood from the stool he had been sitting on and deposited his guitar into its case. In about two big steps he was a foot from her, and as soon as he had her attention—albeit reluctantly—he spoke, "I'm gonna go take a five minute break. If you think you can let go of whatever it is that's making you not want to work with me and actually grow up, you can come get me ahead of time."

* * *

This boy had to be kidding. _Did he seriously just have the nerve to say that to me?_

Narrowing her eyes, Mercedes scoffed and waved him off. While she didn't watch him leave, she heard him and dramatically rolled her eyes as he slammed the door to the auditorium they were in.

If he wanted her to grow up, then he needed to remember that he had to do the same. While he had attempted somewhat to do as Shelby asked of them, he still spent a lot of the time looking at her as if she had some sort of disease. Was he racist? No… He got along rather well with the black drummer they had and it was surprising that they already had plans to hang out given that they had just met. Was he sexist? Making a sound in his throat, Mercedes ran over all the times he had seen him around a woman and it just got more confusing. Sam was friendly with Dejan, the drummer, but when it came to other people in general, he was skittish. He never got within a foot of anyone, he'd never really look them in the eyes, and he'd always nod instead of shaking hands. _What is with him?_

"Well," Mercedes said to herself quietly as she looked at the door where he had left. "I'll just have to figure this out for myself."

"Did you say something?"

Turning her head to look at Dejan, she smiled sheepishly and shook her head before bolting out of there in an attempt to run from the embarrassment. As soon as she was a good distance away from the auditorium, she looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sam. After a few minutes of failure, Mercedes thought about turning back, but was pulled from her thoughts as she heard someone wince.

Pursing her lips, the diva tip toed around the nearest corner. She barely looked around the corner before she knew it was him, but it was what he was doing that had her confused. Attempting to see better by moving forward slightly, Mercedes soon covered her mouth in shock as she watched Sam put a needle in his arm.

_He's a druggie?! _Mercedes' eyes widened in shock at the revelation as she continued to hold her hand to her open mouth-immediately turning around and leaning against the wall in an attempt to hold it all in. Not only was he weird, but now this? _I have to tell Mrs. Shelby about this._ Reaching for her phone and scrambling to bring up the messaging app, a thought soon crossed her mind.

If she was going to do this and hopefully get him fired, then she'd need proof.

_A video! _Hitting the camera app and switching it to video, Mercedes quietly looked around the corner and attempted to catch what she could, only to fail when she noticed the hallway was empty. _Where did he go?!_

She pouted and put her phone back in her pocket—a part of her still mildly shocked at the possibility of him doing drugs. If Shelby knew, she wouldn't want him anywhere near them because it'd mess with her squeaky clean image—something of which Shelby was very protective of.

Mercedes pouted slightly and turned around, going back to the auditorium and sitting down in the nearest chair as she waited for Sam to come back.

_As long as he gets fired, _she thought. _Then I honestly don't even care._

* * *

Puck sat in his truck—a hand running through his short haired mohawk as he waited for Sam to appear.

It was five o'clock, the exact time he had been specified to pick up his roommate from his first day of practice. He had been sitting outside the large building for little over five minutes, and spent his time doing what the Puckasaurus normally did: picking up chicks. A few girls had turned their heads at his whistle and two even gave him their number, but that was about it. It was a slow day for the Puckmeister, but he wasn't going to let that deter him.

Hearing a knock on the passenger side window, Puck whipped his head in that direction and saw Sam looked tiredly as hell as he waited for him to open the door. Clicking the button that would let his roommate in, the mohawked man couldn't help but let his eyes follow the curve of a guy's ass as he passed on the sidewalk.

"Let's go."

"What?" Puck shook himself out of his haze and coughed quietly. "Oh... yeah."

Furrowing his brown, Sam sent Puck a concerned look. "You okay, dude? You're not getting sick are you?"

"No, no," his friend muttered. "I just had a tickle in my throat is all."

When Sam seemed to accept that answer, Puck sighed. He soon turned the truck on and merged into the ongoing traffic, not taking the usual way home. Sensing Sam's curiosity, Puck sent him a smirk. "I figured we could go get a drink. I'll buy. You look like you need it."

The blond haired twenty year-old groaned. "I need it more than you can even imagine. Today was a fucking nightmare."

"You still have the fake I.D. I gave you, right?"

Sam nodded. "I never leave the house without it."

A few quiet minutes passed as Puck drove them to their destination—the pub being one they had been to several times before. Puck knew one of the bartenders, and to everyone in there, Sam was twenty-one, no one having ever questioned it.

They pulled up at the pub only a few minutes later and Sam jumped out of the car like his ass was on fire while Puck distractedly walked around his truck. The blond didn't know what had gotten into his friend, but he knew a beer or two would loosen him up. Apparently they both needed this more than they thought they would.

"Jingles and Jango!" shouted someone from behind the bar as soon as Sam and Puck entered the dimly lit establishment.

Sam shook his head at the nickname and laughed—quickly going over to his favorite stool and sitting down. Like the perfect bartender he was, Dylan immediately began to get out their favorite drinks, having them set down before them and ready by the time Puck sat at the bar. Taking a swig of his preferred beer, Sam hummed.

"I needed this."

"Damn straight," Dylan chuckled. "You look like you got hit by a truck. You look like shit."

Sam sent him a look. "Thanks. There goes your tip by the way."

Pretending to look hurt for a second, the burly, bald headed man soon barked with laughter as he stopped whipping the counter from where Puck's beer had accidentally fizzed over. "You know I'm just playin' man. Where's the fun gone today?"

"He's been in a bad mood all day," Puck grumbled after taking a sip of his beer. Glaring at his best friend, he jerked his head in his direction. "I think he's PMS-ing."

Dylan's eyes widened comically. "Sam has a vagina? Since when?"

"Since ever," Puck replied.

Rolling his eyes, Sam elbowed Puck—earning a laugh. "You're one to talk Puckerman. What about the other day when you ended up eating an entire chocolate bar for no apparent reason?"

"I was hungry."

"Out of all the things you could've bought at the store, you bought that."

"Back off, dude," Puck retorted with a pout. "Chocolate has no gender."

For the first time in a long time, Sam actually felt at peace. Continuing to tease his roommate and laughing when Dylan joined in, he thought that he could actually go a day without a single attack. It had become so common within the past few months, that it had started to wear on him. He didn't know how much longer he could take it if it continued like it had been—this one day even with its frustrations thanks to Mercedes not being enough of a restful break.

Chuckling at a joke he heard Dylan say as he tended to another customer, Sam turned his head to watch as Dylan messed with the guy.

_Wait..._ Sam's green eyes widened in horror as the man turned, letting him get a better look at the man before him. The long nose, shaggy brown hair_... It can't be him. No... It __**can't**__ be._

Anger welled inside him to the point he was shaking—his hand gripping onto his beer so hard it could break in half. No one around him noticed, everyone too busy getting drunk, but the more Sam looked at him, the more the terror and anger racked through him.

Just one day of rest, that's all he wanted, and alas the solace he had found today so far was shattered as the guy a couple of stools down turned and looked at him. Laughing one second and on the floor the next, the poor man didn't know what hit him.

"Sam!"

Blood throbbed in his ears as he sent another punch to the man's face below him. He sat on his stomach and wailed away, not even stopping when Puck attempted to peel him off. It was as if as soon as he had seen the man laugh in his direction, Sam had jumped out of his chair and knocked the guy to the floor—grinning manically as he heard the guy hit the floor with a loud thump.

Feeling Puck drag him off of the man as Dylan jumped over the bar, Sam thrashed and growled against the powerful hold. "Let me at him, damn it. Let me at him!"

"What t-the fuck..." The man coughed out in reply from his place at the floor.

Sam heard his voice, and just like that all of his anger was gone. _...It's not him._

Puck continued to drag him until they were outside of the bar and on the sidewalk—Sam completely motionless as he realized what he had done. The harshness of Puck's next words had him flinching.

"What the shit just happened? Are you fucking insane?" The mohawked man yelled. Slapping Sam's face to make sure he was sure he was coherent, Puck soon crouched down until he was almost eye level with his friend. "What the hell is going on with you? You've almost punched me twice for no reason, you don't sleep, you always look like you're going through some kind of panic attack… What's going on?"

Sam shook his as he closed his eyes—his body leaning heavily against the brick wall behind him as he sat on the sidewalk. "Nothing's wrong-" Eyes wide in shock, the blond soon held a hand to his already reddening cheek. "You just…"

"Damn right, I did," Puck growled. "I want the fucking truth or you're walking home."

_B-But I… _Swallowing against the large knot in his throat, Sam shook his head. "I can't."

It was quiet—the two roommates simply staring at one another as if they were waiting for the other to break. Searching Sam's green eyes, Puck soon sighed and hung his head. He ran a hand through his mohawk before standing to his full height. "Come on," he muttered. "I'll take you home."

"What about the guy I punched?"

"Dylan's taking care of it. As I was dragging you away he told me he was going to give whatever the guy wanted so he wouldn't press charges."

Sam's eyes narrowed as he stood. "He said all of that within a span of a minute?"

Turning his head to regard Sam with a pensive look, Puck replied, "Sam, you had been wailing on him for a good three minutes before I could finally get you off. Whatever the hell took over you had a good fucking grip."

* * *

**A/N: **Hi! I'm sorry it took so long. Working retail during Christmas is really time consuming. LOL. Now I know there are things that you're very confused about, but trust me, all will be revealed in due time.

Did you like it? Tell me so in your review!


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