Ready Or Not
Originally posted by smc_27 at Ready Or Not
Title: Ready Or Not
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Puck is a college hockey player and Rachel goes to a game during a much-needed break from studying. For starfishdancer.
Word Count: 1,700
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Her small private college which specializes in the arts is also a small private college which specializes in hockey, which makes no sense to her. Not the game; that makes sense. Daddy's a big Detroit fan, even though Dad says Detroit represents all that is wrong with the league and major league sports in general. There's always a healthy debate in their house about it. She's never disliked the sport, even if her Daddy gloating about how many Stanley Cups the Red Wings have won does get tired after a while. And when she decided to come to this school, he was so thrilled she swears she saw a tear.
Anyway, she's been here four months and she hasn't been to a game.
She's busy, okay? She's got a full course load, plus private vocal lessons, and she volunteers at the local Jewish community center teaching dance every Saturday morning.
But she knows about the hockey team. She can name most of the players, and actually, one of them is in a few of her classes. He's little, and she doesn't know how someone so small can play such a brutal sport, but then she thinks of Martin St. Louis or Mike Cammalleri or Brian Gionta, and maybe Blaine Anderson isn't exactly in poor company. She's read about how fast he is, and how good his hands are. And then there's the goalie, Sam Evans, who is ridiculously attractive and seems to be very sweet. One of the few parties she's gone to this year was on his floor in the dorms and she remembers he held a door for her and then cleared a little space so she could walk when people were crowding her. And Finn Hudson, a defensive defenseman who, according to the local newspapers, is the best at shutting down skilled players and taking away any opportunity for them to be creative. She's heard about Noah Puckerman, too, and she's not opposed to fighting in hockey - it has its place, really - but she thinks he could stand to do less of it. He can score, too, when he muscles his way to the net and crowds the crease, and frankly she'd rather hear about him doing that than tallying up penalty minutes and game misconducts.
Anyway, she can't sing anymore today without putting strain on her voice, and her eyes are starting to cross rereading her theory notes and passages from her composition text. She's trying to stay focused, but she realizes she hasn't even left her room since classes let out yesterday, and that can't be healthy, can it?
She logs onto the school website to see what's going on tonight, and the first thing that shows up is a banner ad for tonight's hockey game against Boston College, and it tells here there are still tickets remaining. She can think of worse ways to spend an evening. She pulls on her burgundy blue school sweater, her skinny jeans and riding boots. She wraps a white scarf (school colours) around her neck and grabs her mittens on the way out the door. The 'best available' ticket at the box office is really quite fantastic. She's practically at ice level, sitting two rows back from the home penalty box. She loves being able to face the benches, too, because it means she gets a better view of line changes. That's one of the best things about going to see games live.
Three minutes into the first period, Puckerman takes a stupid tripping penalty that he knows is stupid as soon as it's called. He skates to the box and throws his stick once he's inside, and their eyes might meet. She can't really tell, since she's rolling hers. It's really not a great way to start a game, and he just seems so careless that it's hard not to be mad at him.
Blaine scores a shorthanded goal and Rachel jumps up out of her seat and throws her arms in the air, and she definitely hears Puckerman shout, "Fuck yes, Blainesy!" from the box.
The score is still 1-0 after one, and the jumbotron in the arena is playing silly things during intermission. One of them is a player profile on Noah 'Puck' Puckerman, during which he's asked his favourite song (Hey Jude), favourite post-game snack (nachos), the first job he ever had (cleaning pools), and what he'd be doing if he wasn't playing hockey (he has no clue). She won't say he's not attractive. She even sort of likes the scar on his chin that is no doubt a game-related injury.
She gets to see him close up again in the second when he gets called for goalie interference. It's a lame call, because the goalie was chopping Puck across the back of the legs with his goal stick, and Puck eventually turned around and tapped the guy's pad. Not even a penalty, but the ref was right there and seems to have it out for Puck. So he slams the door to the penalty box, but Rachel doesn't really notice; she's out of her seat and shouting at the ref for being a moron. Finn is called for holding, then scores a goal a few minutes after he's let out of the box.
Everything's going smoothly until one of the opposing players takes a complete cheap shot at Blaine that goes uncalled.
Rachel knows things are about to get ugly.
Puck gets five for fighting and narrowly escapes a ten minute misconduct. He still comes out on top though, in her eyes, because the other player's hand is bleeding and it doesn't look like Puck has even a mark on him.
That changes minutes later when someone takes a run at him and he fights back. He's not happy, nor should he be, because it's basically an unwritten rule that you don't fight an unwilling partner, and Puck seems to not want to put his team down a man any more for the night. He can't help but defend himself, though. They get offsetting roughing minors, which is just stupid, and Rachel is so mad she can't sit still.
Boston ties it up in the third and Rachel wants to leave before something awful happens, because this has been a chippy game and she doesn't trust the players not to do something stupid and end up having a bench-clearing brawl. She's just thinking about getting up to go when Puck starts up the ice carrying the puck, and while it isn't pretty, muscles his way past both defenders and ends up on a breakaway against the goalie who probably hates him.
He shoots a pretty wrister and the puck flips up over the goalie's pad and into the net, and she might be the first person in the entire place up and screaming.
She swears he winks at her when he's skating by during the celebration.
As she's leaving the arena, she bumps into some fellow music students. Joe and Artie say they're going to meet Tina and Santana at a party. They ask if she wants to come along, and she finds she's saying yes before she can tell herself it's silly and she should really get home before it gets too late.
She's on her second cup of warm beer when everyone starts cheering, and she looks to the door to see the hockey team walking in.
It takes Puck ten minutes to lock eyes with her across the room, and about thirty seconds before he's pushing his way through the crowd and walking towards her. She can't really find an accurate way to explain how hot he looks with his plain black tee shirt stretched across his chest and his jeans just tight enough on his thighs to make her consider how muscular they are. (How muscular the rest of him is, too.)
"Hey."
Her friends seem to be staring. "Hi."
He smirks at her and she refuses to show just how crazy he's making her already.
"You were getting a little mouthy up in the stands," he says, then sips from his red cup, never taking his eyes off her.
"I didn't think anyone noticed me."
The way he says, "I did," with a casual lift of his shoulder makes her like him even more. "Why haven't I seen you around?"
"I don't think we run in the same social circles."
She ignores the way Artie, under his breath, says she doesn't really have a social circle.
"Can I get you a drink?" he asks.
"I already have a drink."
He steps closer, so he's almost in her space, and then his hand comes out and rests on her waist, and for a second she seriously believes he's about to just kiss her. All she can do is look up at him, and then she's feeling bold enough to put her hand on his arm.
"Well," he says, then licks his bottom lip in a way that is probably subconscious, but she definitely takes note of it. "What else could I do for you?"
It's deliberate, the way she grabs onto the front of his shirt to pull him down to her, and his eyes are gorgeous as he watches her right before she kisses him. Someone in the room catcalls, and she doesn't know how she ends up with two free hands, or who took her beer from her, but she's got her other arm hooked around his neck as he grabs her hips, and god, he is so not her type, but it's hard to care. He's an amazing kisser, and if he doesn't want her as badly as she wants him, she can't honestly tell and he's good at pretending.
He's breathing hard and he kisses a line up her jaw to her ear, says, "What else?" and she laughs because she wants him, and it'd be so easy to say the words and be honest with him.
"Come home with me," she says, and he groans and flexes his fingers on her hips. "I'll let you figure it out."
Title: Ready Or Not
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Puck is a college hockey player and Rachel goes to a game during a much-needed break from studying. For starfishdancer.
Word Count: 1,700
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Her small private college which specializes in the arts is also a small private college which specializes in hockey, which makes no sense to her. Not the game; that makes sense. Daddy's a big Detroit fan, even though Dad says Detroit represents all that is wrong with the league and major league sports in general. There's always a healthy debate in their house about it. She's never disliked the sport, even if her Daddy gloating about how many Stanley Cups the Red Wings have won does get tired after a while. And when she decided to come to this school, he was so thrilled she swears she saw a tear.
Anyway, she's been here four months and she hasn't been to a game.
She's busy, okay? She's got a full course load, plus private vocal lessons, and she volunteers at the local Jewish community center teaching dance every Saturday morning.
But she knows about the hockey team. She can name most of the players, and actually, one of them is in a few of her classes. He's little, and she doesn't know how someone so small can play such a brutal sport, but then she thinks of Martin St. Louis or Mike Cammalleri or Brian Gionta, and maybe Blaine Anderson isn't exactly in poor company. She's read about how fast he is, and how good his hands are. And then there's the goalie, Sam Evans, who is ridiculously attractive and seems to be very sweet. One of the few parties she's gone to this year was on his floor in the dorms and she remembers he held a door for her and then cleared a little space so she could walk when people were crowding her. And Finn Hudson, a defensive defenseman who, according to the local newspapers, is the best at shutting down skilled players and taking away any opportunity for them to be creative. She's heard about Noah Puckerman, too, and she's not opposed to fighting in hockey - it has its place, really - but she thinks he could stand to do less of it. He can score, too, when he muscles his way to the net and crowds the crease, and frankly she'd rather hear about him doing that than tallying up penalty minutes and game misconducts.
Anyway, she can't sing anymore today without putting strain on her voice, and her eyes are starting to cross rereading her theory notes and passages from her composition text. She's trying to stay focused, but she realizes she hasn't even left her room since classes let out yesterday, and that can't be healthy, can it?
She logs onto the school website to see what's going on tonight, and the first thing that shows up is a banner ad for tonight's hockey game against Boston College, and it tells here there are still tickets remaining. She can think of worse ways to spend an evening. She pulls on her burgundy blue school sweater, her skinny jeans and riding boots. She wraps a white scarf (school colours) around her neck and grabs her mittens on the way out the door. The 'best available' ticket at the box office is really quite fantastic. She's practically at ice level, sitting two rows back from the home penalty box. She loves being able to face the benches, too, because it means she gets a better view of line changes. That's one of the best things about going to see games live.
Three minutes into the first period, Puckerman takes a stupid tripping penalty that he knows is stupid as soon as it's called. He skates to the box and throws his stick once he's inside, and their eyes might meet. She can't really tell, since she's rolling hers. It's really not a great way to start a game, and he just seems so careless that it's hard not to be mad at him.
Blaine scores a shorthanded goal and Rachel jumps up out of her seat and throws her arms in the air, and she definitely hears Puckerman shout, "Fuck yes, Blainesy!" from the box.
The score is still 1-0 after one, and the jumbotron in the arena is playing silly things during intermission. One of them is a player profile on Noah 'Puck' Puckerman, during which he's asked his favourite song (Hey Jude), favourite post-game snack (nachos), the first job he ever had (cleaning pools), and what he'd be doing if he wasn't playing hockey (he has no clue). She won't say he's not attractive. She even sort of likes the scar on his chin that is no doubt a game-related injury.
She gets to see him close up again in the second when he gets called for goalie interference. It's a lame call, because the goalie was chopping Puck across the back of the legs with his goal stick, and Puck eventually turned around and tapped the guy's pad. Not even a penalty, but the ref was right there and seems to have it out for Puck. So he slams the door to the penalty box, but Rachel doesn't really notice; she's out of her seat and shouting at the ref for being a moron. Finn is called for holding, then scores a goal a few minutes after he's let out of the box.
Everything's going smoothly until one of the opposing players takes a complete cheap shot at Blaine that goes uncalled.
Rachel knows things are about to get ugly.
Puck gets five for fighting and narrowly escapes a ten minute misconduct. He still comes out on top though, in her eyes, because the other player's hand is bleeding and it doesn't look like Puck has even a mark on him.
That changes minutes later when someone takes a run at him and he fights back. He's not happy, nor should he be, because it's basically an unwritten rule that you don't fight an unwilling partner, and Puck seems to not want to put his team down a man any more for the night. He can't help but defend himself, though. They get offsetting roughing minors, which is just stupid, and Rachel is so mad she can't sit still.
Boston ties it up in the third and Rachel wants to leave before something awful happens, because this has been a chippy game and she doesn't trust the players not to do something stupid and end up having a bench-clearing brawl. She's just thinking about getting up to go when Puck starts up the ice carrying the puck, and while it isn't pretty, muscles his way past both defenders and ends up on a breakaway against the goalie who probably hates him.
He shoots a pretty wrister and the puck flips up over the goalie's pad and into the net, and she might be the first person in the entire place up and screaming.
She swears he winks at her when he's skating by during the celebration.
As she's leaving the arena, she bumps into some fellow music students. Joe and Artie say they're going to meet Tina and Santana at a party. They ask if she wants to come along, and she finds she's saying yes before she can tell herself it's silly and she should really get home before it gets too late.
She's on her second cup of warm beer when everyone starts cheering, and she looks to the door to see the hockey team walking in.
It takes Puck ten minutes to lock eyes with her across the room, and about thirty seconds before he's pushing his way through the crowd and walking towards her. She can't really find an accurate way to explain how hot he looks with his plain black tee shirt stretched across his chest and his jeans just tight enough on his thighs to make her consider how muscular they are. (How muscular the rest of him is, too.)
"Hey."
Her friends seem to be staring. "Hi."
He smirks at her and she refuses to show just how crazy he's making her already.
"You were getting a little mouthy up in the stands," he says, then sips from his red cup, never taking his eyes off her.
"I didn't think anyone noticed me."
The way he says, "I did," with a casual lift of his shoulder makes her like him even more. "Why haven't I seen you around?"
"I don't think we run in the same social circles."
She ignores the way Artie, under his breath, says she doesn't really have a social circle.
"Can I get you a drink?" he asks.
"I already have a drink."
He steps closer, so he's almost in her space, and then his hand comes out and rests on her waist, and for a second she seriously believes he's about to just kiss her. All she can do is look up at him, and then she's feeling bold enough to put her hand on his arm.
"Well," he says, then licks his bottom lip in a way that is probably subconscious, but she definitely takes note of it. "What else could I do for you?"
It's deliberate, the way she grabs onto the front of his shirt to pull him down to her, and his eyes are gorgeous as he watches her right before she kisses him. Someone in the room catcalls, and she doesn't know how she ends up with two free hands, or who took her beer from her, but she's got her other arm hooked around his neck as he grabs her hips, and god, he is so not her type, but it's hard to care. He's an amazing kisser, and if he doesn't want her as badly as she wants him, she can't honestly tell and he's good at pretending.
He's breathing hard and he kisses a line up her jaw to her ear, says, "What else?" and she laughs because she wants him, and it'd be so easy to say the words and be honest with him.
"Come home with me," she says, and he groans and flexes his fingers on her hips. "I'll let you figure it out."