mzminola: knees-down view of a kid in white stockings and black shoes who is standing on tiptoe. (Default)
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Title: Drummer Boy
Author: mzminola
Fandom: Glee!
Genre: Alternate Universe
Premise: What if Finn never sang in Glee club, because he was already in Jazz Band?
Rating: high as the show itself, plus extra for swearing.

Warnings for the fic as a whole: Anything the show has is likely to show up here, so pretty much all of the bullying and phobias and barfing and other issues. If you are worried about specific triggers please let me know and I can give you a heads up.

TIMING NOTE: The first scene takes place sometime before Chapter One, the last scene is in-between Chapter Eleven and Chapter Twelve, and the rest is sprinkled over gosh-knows-when.

There’s a party near the end of the summer, before they start Sophomore year, that Finn goes to with Puck, where someone brings the most beer he’s ever seen. Quinn isn’t there, and Finn spends half an hour in the backyard where almost everyone’s lost their shirts. But he doesn’t want to lose his shirt, it’s one of the really comfy ones, so he goes back inside to look for Puck, and finds a bunch of guys taking about shit they did in elementary school, and sort of falls into the conversation

“You did Scouts too?” Matt Rutherford asks, when Finn hands him a beer.

“Yeah, but I quit like back in seventh grade,” Finn says. He glances over at the corner were Puck has two Cheerio’s swaying along with the melody he’s strumming on his guitar. Finn nods towards him so Matt will look over too. “I mean, I couldn’t stay if my boy Puck wasn’t there.”

“Puck did Scouts?” Azimio asks in a loud voice, sitting down. Finn hadn’t noticed him walking in from outside. Azimio’s shirt is long gone, lost in the crowd, but he’s still got a red undershirt on.

“Puckzilla got thrown out of Scouts,” Puck says from his corner, pausing his strumming. The two Cheerios ooh at that comment. “They couldn’t handle my raw awesome.”

“What, was the Mohawk against dress code?” Azimio sneers.

“I burned down a campsite,” Puck says with a shrug. He picks up the melody on his guitar again, and winks at the Cheerio closer to him. “The fire started spontaneously from my sheer animal magnetism.”

The Cheerios laugh, and one asks something quietly, and Finn can tell Puck’s going into seduction mode. He won’t be paying attention to anything the guys say now, so Finn makes sure to keep Azimio distracted by discussing their first football games from last year, and how to fix the things that had made them lose. Matt Rutherford had looked surprised at the comment about the fire, but isn’t saying anything now.


“Broke a bitch-ass punk’s nose when he eyed my Smores,” is the story Puck tells a couple weeks later, when someone brings it up after they lose their first football game of the year. “I mean, those Smores were perfect, I wasn’t gonna let some little shit take them, was I Finn?”

“Didn’t he wind up getting blood all over the marshmallow bag?” Finn asks.

“All over that shit,” Puck agrees.

No. Finn’s blood had gotten all over the marshmallow bag when he walked into a tree on the way to the campfire. The one and only time Puck had punched someone in Scouts, it had been in the middle of the day, not a Smore in sight.


Jacob ben Isreal walks up to Finn one day with a microphone and asks “Is it true Noah Puckerman was kicked out of Scouts for sleeping with five different Den Mothers?”

“Well, we were in Seventh grade,” Finn says with a shrug. Then he shoves past Jacob and vanishes into the crowed. Okay, he can’t actually vanish because he’s taller than most of them, but he does wind up in the middle of a group of jocks who won’t break ranks to let Jacob follow him, so close enough.


“Went up like a- like a-” Finn pauses to think. “I guess exactly like a cheap tent that had been hit with a match.”

“Was it really the Scoutmaster’s tent?” Santana asks, looking impressed.

“I don’t really remember too well,” Finn says.


“Jacob ben Isreal just asked me a question about you,” Rachel said, storming up to Puck as he left the locker room after football practice.

“Guess that rumor we’re dating must be back in circulation,” Puck said with a shrug. Puck kind of liked that rumor. It always made Santana more possessive of him, which meant a lot more make-out sessions, usually in full view of the football team or the Cheerios.

“I informed him in no uncertain terms that I am not an expert in anything about you,” Rachel said with a huff. Puck shrugged again, and waited for her to leave. She didn’t.

“Something else I can help you with?” Puck asked sarcastically.

She glanced to the side, and then back towards him. “…did you know there are fifty different versions of why you quit Scouts?”

“Thrown out,” Puck corrected quickly. He started walking down the hall, heading for the door out, and Rachel followed. “I didn’t quit. They just couldn’t handle me.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Jacob had a list of all the versions he’d heard, and wanted me to tell him which one was true. I reminded him that the incident was in Seventh grade and I didn’t even meet you until autumn of our Freshman year.”

“When you rejected me,” Puck pointed out. They were almost outside, and it looked cold. Puck leaned against the wall to wait for this conversation to run its course.

“You were very crass,” Rachel said, with a toss of her head. Puck nodded and shrugged in acknowledgement. Freshmen year was a pretty steep learning curve on how to woo the ladies, and Rachel had been one of many in the fall semester to turn him down.

Spring had gone a lot better.

Rachel was still staring, and Puck sighed. “Are you asking to know the real reason why I got kicked out?”

Rachel shook her head. “No. I want to know how it is that there are as many rumors about you as there are about me, but all of yours benefit your desired reputation, while all of mine are dissatisfactory.”

“…how many of yours do you start?” Puck asked.

“None, that would be cheap,” Rachel said.

“Don’t you still post videos of yourself singing on Myspace?” Puck asked.

“That is simply a demonstration of my talents,” Rachel said.

Now it was Puck’s turn to roll his eyes. “Look, Rachel, whatever weird little publicity thing you’re doing now is, isn’t working.”

“That would be why I’m asking you how you built your reputation, yes,” Rachel said.

Puck gave Rachel a long, measuring look. Then he sighed “Whatever,” and walked out the door.


mzminola: knees-down view of a kid in white stockings and black shoes who is standing on tiptoe. (Default)

January 2013

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