That the Moon Elbowed the Stars 15/17
Title: That the Moon Elbowed the Stars
Chapter: 15/17
Rating: R
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Word Count: 7,650
Summary: And maybe it's an awful thing to think, but he wonders what's worse for her, losing New York or losing her dad.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Puck's schedule for the semester is kind of fucking ridiculous. Besides classes, he's spending about ten hours a week at a local architecture firm for an internship, and he's looking at grad schools. Not going to grad school isn't an option if he ever wants to actually be an architect, which also means that he needs to bust his ass to keep his GPA up and to make sure that some of his professors will write letters of recommendation and stuff. Ideally, he'll get a job at a firm where they're willing to pay for part of his grad school, and he'll spend a couple of years doing bullshit work while he finishes his degree.
He finds a rhythm pretty quickly though, because even though the shit is harder and way more important, he was actually busier in high school when he was juggling sports with school and glee, especially once he started like, actually going to class and turning in homework and shit. Besides, he likes being busy.
It makes it harder to find time to think about Rachel.
It's been nearly two months since they've really talked, though it isn't complete radio silence between them. They talk every couple of weeks, but it's entirely superficial, mostly just catching up on what they're doing. These conversations kind of remind him of when they first started talking through glee, sort of stilted and unsure. (At least, the conversations they had that weren't her babbling about music and Broadway or him trying to seduce her out of her skirt.)
He's tried putting himself in her shoes, but every time he does, all he can think about is his dad. If that fucker ever came around and told Puck that he was sorry and he wanted a chance to get to know his son, Puck would tell him to fuck himself. It isn't the same thing as Rachel and Shelby at all, but he can't be objective about any of it. He just doesn't get what Rachel thinks she needs from Shelby, especially after the manipulative shit the woman pulled with Jesse St. James.
(Looking back now, he can absolve Jesse of a lot of that. The guy was a kid. Shelby, however, knew exactly what she was doing, and should have known better than to do something like that to a teenaged girl.)
He gave Santana a Cliff's Notes version of what happened when she asked him why she wasn't overhearing all of his 'sappy ass conversations with Babs,' and she just stared at him for a minute after he finished talking.
"She told you she loves you," she'd said, setting her hands on her hips. It wasn't a question, so Puck didn't say anything, though he wasn't sure how she knew. Santana shook her head. "You can only use all of this as an excuse to stay away from her for so long, Puck, then you're going to have to deal with the fact that she's just as in love with you as you are with her."
She'd left him sitting there on the couch, gaping after her when she went out the front door saying something about staying with Finn.
He didn't talk to her for three days, because fuck her and her psychoanalysis bullshit. This is about the fact that Rachel lied, not because she said she loves him and he's running scared.
*
One afternoon near the end of February, Rachel gets a call from an unknown number. Most people don't answer calls from numbers they don't recognize, but she always does. It could be a casting director who saw her in a performance and wants to cast her in an exciting new musical, or a music producer who wants to sign her to a contract and turn her into a Grammy-winning recording artist.
You never know.
"Rachel, it's Shelby." Rachel feels herself deflate. However unrealistic her fantasies are, it's always a letdown when she's reminded that they're just that. "I've been worried about you."
Rachel hasn't spoken to Shelby since the party. She's ignored her calls and deleted her emails without reading them. If Rachel learned anything about herself through this experience with Shelby - especially combined with her last experience with her - it's that she doesn't need the woman. She doesn't exactly regret it though, because at least now she has the answer to her what if.
"Well, that's sweet, I suppose, but misguided," Rachel says, her tone polite.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You don't have to worry about me, Shelby. You don't need to feel any more obligated to worry about my well-being than you did for the first two decades of my life."
Shelby makes a strangled noise. "Rachel--"
"I'm sorry," she interrupts. "That was uncalled for. But the fact of the matter is, I don't need you in my life. I used to think that there were things I could only get from you, but now I know better, and both times that you've come back into my life, it's messed everything up," Rachel explains. It feels inelegant, but it's the truth, and she isn't going to hold back now.
"Rachel, I don't--"
"Last time, you told me that you didn't want me, so I know how much it hurts," she whispers. "I'm sorry, but please don't contact me again."
She doesn't ever actually say the words - of course, neither did Shelby, all those years ago - but she knows that the implication is clear.
Rachel is nervous when she decides to call Noah and tell him what happened. She's a little wary of bringing Shelby up at all, lest it drag out some unfinished business, but at the same time, she doesn't want him to think that she's hiding things again. She's not entirely sure of how to broach the subject.
In the end, she just blurts it out. "Shelby called me this afternoon."
Puck can feel himself tense up. "Oh, yeah?"
"I've been ignoring her calls, but she was at a number I didn't recognize. I told her I didn't want her to be a part of my life."
Puck takes a deep breath. "Are you okay?"
It's more sincere than anything she's heard him say in months, and she loves the way it sounds. "I really am."
It's the absolute truth, and it feels amazing.
"They announced the auditions for the musical today," she says, changing the subject. She doesn't want to talk about that woman any more.
"So is it West Side Story?" He knows that's what she wants to do. She heard a rumor forever ago, and she built this elaborate fantasy scenario that involved being discovered by a director or whoever on her first night as Maria. In her head, this guy is looking for the perfect girl to lead his Broadway revival of the show, and he's so impressed by Rachel that she's got her name on a marquee by September.
"Thoroughly Modern Millie, actually, but I can work with that." It could have been much worse, really, even if it isn't exactly what she was hoping for. She thinks she'll make a perfect Millie, and she's always loved the flapper look.
"You've never told me about that one," he tells her. He knows she'll understand that this is an invitation for her to tell him all about it. It's been a while since she's talked his ear off about a show, and he actually finds himself smiling as she launches into a description of a musical that, when you get right down to it, is about a girl who falls in love.
He's pretty sure she'll be perfect.
*
She'd be lying if she said she wasn't worried that she might not be cast as the lead in this show, no matter how well-prepared she is. There's no accounting for taste, as they say, and stranger things have happened, to throw another cliché into the mix.
Of course, Rachel Berry is an actress - a better one now than she was two years ago - and it's simply part of her job to push aside the nerves that she feels and show them what she's got.
The feeling that goes through her when she sees her name at the top of the cast list is the best thing that's happened to her all year.
*
When Puck starts thinking about grad school and where he wants to be, geographically speaking, New York is one of the first places that comes up. He knows that he wants to do two things with his career: design enormous houses for people with more money than brains and design affordable homes for people who have nothing. The easiest way to be able to do the second is to be in a place where he can be really good at the first. Big cities are a logical choice. He's been to New York and has professional ties there already, and there's an endless stream of rich fuckers.
And yeah, Rachel's there. Whatever.
He's looking at other cities though. Phoenix, Denver, Austin, D.C., Chicago, of course. Columbus is his fallback, only because he's already here and the firm where he's doing his internship this semester already said they would hire him if he was interested.
The firms in Denver, Phoenix, and D.C. all give him a polite 'fuck you,' which, when he considers the fact that he gets interviews with places in Chicago and Austin plus the firm he interned at in New York, is all right. He doesn't have the patience for political bullshit, so D.C. would piss him off, and he likes having seasons, so Phoenix would probably get old really fast. And he hates the fucking Broncos.
He drives to Chicago on a Tuesday to interview at a place that he hates the second he walks in. The building is sleek and modern and techy, which isn't Puck's aesthetic at all. He likes spaces that are cozy and meant to be lived in, and he just doesn't get that from modern. He has learned not to burn bridges though, so he gives them his best stuff; better to get his start somewhere radically different from what he wants to do than not to go anywhere at all.
"Does the way their offices look really matter?" Rachel asks when he calls her on his drive home. It's taken years, but she's finally stopped giving him shit for talking and driving at the same time.
"It's an architecture firm," he says flatly. Yeah, it matters.
She makes a face even though he can't see her. "I'm just trying to help."
"Mmhmm." He grins when she huffs. "How was rehearsal?"
"Long. We're working on a tap sequence that's killing me. So you should really be nice to me right now," she adds pointedly.
"I'm always nice to you, baby," he teases.
Rachel closes her eyes and takes a little breath. She never thought she'd be so relieved to hear a silly pet name, but after two months of Noah treating her like he barely knew her, hearing it now is everything. It's absurd, but she thinks she wouldn't mind if he never used her given name again as long as he didn't stop calling her baby like that. He hasn't actually said that he's ready to forgive her, but even if he isn't quite there, she knows he's getting closer.
His interview in Austin is during spring break, so Puck convinces Finn to come with him for the week. Neither of them has ever been able to have a 'real' spring break; Finn was always doing the football thing and Puck just never got around to it, so this is their last chance. They might as well take advantage of it. And there's something right about getting to do this with the guy who's been his best friend for fucking ever, especially after everything they've been through over the years.
Santana comes into Puck's room the night before they leave. "Don't let him do anything stupid."
"Don't be a bitch, San," he tells her mildly, barely glancing up from his laptop.
"I'm serious, Puck," she insists. "Look, we're actually dating now, and if you tell me that you aren't going to push him into bed with a skanky blonde, I won't have to worry about it at all."
He finally looks at her and sees the expression on her face. She's totally not kidding. "All right. Go fuck him or something," he suggests. He knows Finn's just passed out in her bed, which is dumb. He should be awake, so he can fuck his girl tonight, then sleep on the plane. Win-win.
Santana flips him off before she leaves the room.
It takes exactly three days in Austin for Puck to decide that he could definitely live here. It's a cool social scene, and the city's got that whole urban sprawl thing going on, which is basically bank for what he wants to do.
Being a college student on spring break in Austin doesn't suck either. It's kind of a bro-cation. Santana has Finn's balls in her pocket back in Columbus, so Puck agreed not to desert the dude every night to go get laid. It's all right though, because he and Finn haven't been able to hang out like this much in the last couple of years. (And, unless something crazy happens, they probably won't be living in the same city for much longer.)
"So what's up with you and Santana?" he asks at lunch one day. They're at this kick-ass Mexican place they found the night they got here; this is their third meal at this restaurant in as many days.
Finn shrugs. "I kind of love her," he says around a mouthful of chips and salsa.
Puck freezes with his beer halfway to his mouth. "Are you serious with that shit?"
"Yeah," he says, shrugging again. "She's awesome."
"She's a bitch," Puck counters seriously. He knows, okay? He's dated her and fucked her and lived with her for three years. If there's one thing in the world he knows for sure, it's that Santana Lopez is a bitch.
"Yeah, well." Finn eats another chip and takes his time chewing. "I like it."
Puck spends the rest of lunch razzing Finn about Santana dressing up as a dom and making Finn her bitch since the guy's obviously a masochist. To his credit, Finn takes it all in stride, ordering them both enough rounds of tequila shots that they're both half-wasted by the time they head out.
(And even though he's giving him shit, Puck gets it. They're too alike to ever work in a relationship, but Puck loves her bitchy ass, and Finn has always liked bossy women. As long as they're both happy, Puck's happy for them.)
His interview is awesome. Legit, they tell him that he has a job waiting there if he decides that he wants to move to Austin. He and Finn spend their night out toasting Puck's potential job - not that they need an excuse - and they get a little carried away. They're back at their hotel by midnight, and Finn's passed the hell out on his bed. (Puck rolls him onto his stomach and sets the trash can next to him just in case. Losing his best friend because the guy chokes on his own puke in a hotel room is not the way Puck wants to remember Austin, Texas.) He hits the vending machine with dollar bills that he steals out of Finn's wallet, then decides that calling Rachel is the best idea ever when he's halfway through a bag of Funyuns.
"Is something wrong?" That's how she answers the phone, her voice all full of sleep.
"Nope. 'S'up, baby?"
"You're drunk," she sighs, and he hears some rustling in the background. He figures she's in bed and wonders what she's wearing.
"Yeah I am," Puck agrees easily, crunching on another deep fried onion ring. Or whatever it is that Funyuns are made from. "I got offered a job today."
"That's wonderful, Noah, but did you have to wake me up to tell me that? I have a rehearsal in six hours," she says with a glance at her alarm clock. She knows that he's forgotten that he's in a different time zone, but also that it wouldn't matter either way, so she just pulls the covers up over her shoulders and snuggles further into her pillow.
"Sorry." He doesn't sound sorry at all, which just makes her roll her eyes. "I still have to interview at Hell to the No, though."
"What?" She's so tired that she can't be bothered to try to make sense of what he's saying.
"In New York City," he says, enunciating each word.
"Right."
Bringing up Helmsley and Monroe makes him think about this summer and spending time with her and how easy it is to be with her.
"Hey, Rach?"
"Mmm?"
"I forgive you."
Her eyes had been closed, and she was struggling not to drift off, wanting to be sure that Noah wasn't so drunk that he was going to be sick before she hung up and went back to sleep, but they pop open when he says those words, and she blinks into the darkness of her bedroom when he keeps talking.
"For the shit with Shelby. I get it, why you did what you did, and you asked me to tell you when I was ready to forgive you." He pauses, looking out over the hotel pool. "I forgive you." He's been thinking about it for a while, and he's tired of thinkings being weird between them. He wants it to be the way it was, and he thinks this is the quickest way to get there.
Rachel lets out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding. "Okay," she whispers. She doesn't know what else to say right now. Maybe if she wasn't half-asleep, she could form a more coherent response.
"So we're good," he states, shoving a Funyun in his mouth. It feels good. Not eating the Funyun. That doesn't feel like anything. Being good with Rachel feels good. Shit, he's right on the edge of too drunk, but he knows he's just sober enough that he'll remember all of this tomorrow, which is exactly what he tells her when she asks.
"Good." It's amazing, the relief she feels right now. She wants to talk to him, especially now, but she's exhausted, and she can feel sleep overtaking her. The last thing she hears before she drifts off with the phone in her hand is Noah crunching on something.
She dreams of Noah walking around her apartment in a black beaded dress like the one she was being fitted for that morning, eating potato chips, dropping crumbs everywhere while he directs Finn and Mike in the construction of a new house that juts out of the side of her apartment building, the front porch just beyond her closet.
She's still tired when she gets to rehearsal the next morning, but her mood is absolutely brilliant. It's a cliché to say that she feels that a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, but she truly does feel lighter, and it shows in her performance. The fact that her director tells her that she's just turned in her best performance yet of "Not for the Life of Me" is absolute proof.
It feels amazing.
*
When Puck gets off the plane in New York this time around, no one's waiting for him. Rachel has class and then rehearsal, so she told him to just go ahead to her place and she'd see him later. Neither of them realized it until she brought it up, but he still has keys to her apartment on his key ring.
He's not totally sure how this weekend is going to go, staying with her like this. Things are different between them since the last time he was here, and they haven't quite gotten back to where they were before. He doesn't even know whether he's going to be sleeping with her or on the sofabed. They haven't talked about it.
Honestly, they haven't talked about a lot lately, but just because Rachel is stupidly busy. She has classes and rehearsals, and apparently they have some senior recital thing in May - after the musical closes - that she's already getting ready for. He's a little bit worried about her pushing herself too hard, especially since she's fallen asleep on the phone with him more than once in the last few weeks, but it's not like he can really say anything about it. Rachel's an adult, and she knows how to take care of herself.
He's sitting on the couch watching Colbert when she comes in, setting her keys next to his on the table just inside the door and dropping her bag, stepping out of her shoes on her way to the couch. She sits herself across his lap without a word, setting one hand on his chest and pressing her face against his neck. "Hi," she murmurs, her breath warm on his skin.
She feels the, "Hey," rumble in his chest and presses herself closer. He's warm and solid and here, and it feels amazing to come home to him like this. She's almost able to forget how strained things have been between them in the last few months.
"This has been the longest day ever," she says, pulling back a bit to look at him. "How was your flight?"
"Fine. I got Chinese and ordered you some of those noodles," he tells her.
"Thanks, but I think I'm just going to go to bed." She says it, but instead of moving off his lap, she lays her head on his shoulder. "What time is your interview?"
"Ten." His hand slides up her back and tangles in the ends of her hair. "Do you have class?"
"No, but I have rehearsal at noon." He doesn't say anything, and after a moment she feels herself starting to drift off. She opens her eyes and blinks a few times. Honestly, it's ridiculous how tired she's been, but between classes and rehearsals, it's hard not to be. She's hoping that Noah isn't going to want to go do anything on Sunday, because it's her only day without a rehearsal in the next two weeks, being a holiday, and she'd really like to spend as much of it as possible relaxing.
She forces herself to get up out of his lap when her eyes start closing again. "I'm going to wash my face."
When she comes back a little later, she's wearing a tank top and a tiny pair of shorts. "You don't have to stay on the pull-out," she tells him, leaning against the doorway. "I don't mind sharing."
It's exactly what he was waiting for, if he's being honest. He and Rachel have spent as much time feeling weird around one another for various reasons as they have feeling normal, so they should probably be used to it. Sleeping in the same bed isn't a big deal for them, whatever else is going on. At least, it never was before. And yeah, he forgave her, but it feels a little like they're starting over again.
There's a star-shaped post-it note stuck to her bathroom mirror that reads, All the hard work is worth it when you're on top. It's so Rachel that he can't help smiling when he's in there.
She's already in bed when he finishes brushing his teeth, lying there with just the lamp on his bedside table burning. "I like your note," he says, unbuckling his belt after he's pulled his tee shirt over his head.
"It's an affirmation," she corrects sleepily, turning towards him when he crawls into bed beside her. "Will you wake me up before you leave tomorrow?"
"Sure," he lies, reaching over to turn off the lamp. As tired as she is right now, if she's still asleep when he leaves tomorrow, he's going to let her sleep. "C'mere." He tugs her closer, until she's curled into his side, her hand resting on his chest over his heart.
*
He never thought that getting a job would be the easy part. Aren't people supposed to struggle and grasp and go without for however long before they finally catch a break? It's not working that way for him. He never, ever thought that things would come easy for him, not when it seems like everything else in his life has been so hard.
Hell to the No offers him the job before he even finishes the interview, so now he has to decide where he wants to live for the next few years. (And if he does choose New York, he's going to have to start calling the firm by its real name all the time, or he's going to slip in front of someone important who won't get the joke at all.) He's already ruled out Chicago and Columbus, which means he's choosing between Austin and New York, two places that couldn't be more different if they tried.
He figures it's best to give himself a few days to think about it, so once he's told his mom (who squeals so loudly into the phone that his ear rings), he pushes it all out of his mind.
He finds Rachel's rehearsal schedule on the fridge when he goes back to her place to change. He's standing in the kitchen eating cold Chinese straight out of the carton, reading this piece of paper with dates and times and places on it - Rachel's highlighted all of the things that are pertinent to her in pink highlighter - and he figures that he might as well go see what this show's all about. He isn't doing anything else.
Rachel's up on stage when Puck slips into the theater and takes a seat all the way in the back. She's talking to someone sitting out in the audience, nodding her head while she pulls her hair up into a ponytail. She starts singing about a guy named Jimmy, and Puck realizes that it's been years since he's seen her up on stage, singing like this. He's not going to be able to be in the city when the show opens, so he's taking what he can get with this.
There's no way that she isn't going to blow away everyone who sees this show. Puck's kind of blown away, and this is just a rehearsal. Plus, it isn't like he hasn't seen what she can do; he's seen Rachel bring crowds to their feet with her voice before. He knows what it feels like to hear her for the first time, and he doesn't see how she can be anything but a star after all of this.
He leaves after about an hour. He knows that she'll just be annoyed (or disappointed, or whatever) that he saw part of the performance before it was 'perfect,' so he doesn't say anything when she gets home later, just asks her if she'd rather order pizza or Indian for dinner.
*
Puck goes out to Brooklyn to spend the day with Chang when Rachel goes to rehearsal on Saturday. The guy's leaving for Europe in a few weeks, going back on tour with Derulo like a boss, and it's been a long time since they've gotten a chance to hang out. Puck misses the guy.
They got to a restaurant that's been voted best chicken in the city for the last however many years for lunch, and Puck considers telling Mike that he loves him for it. He loves the girl to death, and he really doesn't care what Rachel eats, but there are just some restaurants that they can't go to together. There's no way this place has anything vegan on their menu.
(It's funny, but he catches himself looking for vegan options on the menu whenever he goes to a restaurant, no matter where he is. She's all up under his skin.)
He's practically up to his elbows in chicken grease (yeah, he eats fried chicken with his hands; how else are you supposed to do it?) when Mike wipes his hands on a napkin and look across the table at him seriously. "You know she's in love with you, dude." Puck struggles not to choke on his chicken. "She thought she was doing the right thing by not telling you about Shelby."
Puck reaches for his napkin, shaking his head. "Mike..."
"Man, if you aren't going to be with her when you get here, you gotta cut her loose," Mike says bluntly. "I fucking love that girl, and she's been through enough.
"Look, she told me that you two probably would have been together if it wasn't for the distance thing. And she doesn't tell me stuff, but I know her, okay? If you move here, she's going to think that means there's hope for you two being together."
Puck raises an eyebrow. "So are you saying that I shouldn't move here if I don't want to be with her?" When he told Chang about the two job offers this morning, this isn't exactly what he thought would happen. He was figuring he'd get a slap on the back and a 'congrats,' not a heart to heart about the girl they've both had in bed. (Jesus.)
Mike shakes his head. "No, you just need to make sure that she knows what's up." He watches Puck for a second, then nods his head and goes back to his drumstick like nothing happened at all, changing the subject completely and talking about the upcoming subway series games.
And look, it's not that Puck hasn't realized that being in the city would mean getting see what he and Rachel could be, but it's not like he can base his career decision around her. He's twenty-two; this is the time in his life when he's supposed to be making selfish decisions and doing what's right for him without considering the consequences for anyone else.
He spends his entire trip back into Manhattan thinking about what Mike said and where he wants to be. Puck knows better than to ask any of his friends for advice, and he already knows what most of them will say anyhow. Santana loves New York, and she thinks it's just a matter of time before he and Rachel are together. Finn will tell him to go to Austin because it has a smaller feel, and for all of his talk in high school about going wherever Rachel was going, the guy isn't made for a city as big as New York. Puck's mom would totally ignore the options and tell him to stay in Columbus or go to Chicago just because she wants him to be close. Honestly, what Mike said is probably the closest thing to helpful advice that he's going to get.
Rachel's sitting on the couch with her computer when he lets himself into the apartment, her bare legs stretched out across the cushions. She has music playing, something soft and piano-driven that's completely different than the music in her show, like she's taking a break from the jazzy thing. He lifts her legs to sit with her on the couch, sliding his hand along her shins when they're laying across his lap.
He feels her flex her calves when she looks at him. "How's Mike?"
Puck scoffs. "Kid's going to Europe. He's awesome," he answers, grinning when she laughs.
"Did he take you to the chicken place for lunch?" She laughs when Puck looks at her with raised eyebrows. "He's obsessed with that restaurant. I knew he'd love having someone new to take."
"That chicken is awesome," he admits, grinning when she shakes her head.
She goes back to what she was doing, the sound of her rapid typing reminding him that despite how relaxed she looks right this second, the girl almost never slows the hell down. He likes it though; it makes those moments when she does relax and take a break that much better, special even, because it's almost a novelty. He thinks about the day they spent in Battery Park last summer, quiet and relaxed, and the night they spent in her bed after that. It's special that he's gotten to see her that way. God, he's seen her differently than almost anyone has in the last few years, seen her fall apart and put herself back together. He's seen her slow down and breathe, and now he's seeing that crazy drive to be on top coming out again.
And he's pretty sure he's still just scratched the surface with her.
"I have to choose between moving here or moving to Austin," he says suddenly.
Rachel looks past her computer screen at him and blinks. She didn't even know that he'd been offered the job here in the city. "That's a big decision," she says after a moment, calmly, trying to be diplomatic. She loves the idea of having him here in the city with her, of maybe having a chance to be with him, but that isn't for her to say. This is his decision, and he doesn't need her muddling things up.
Puck traces his fingertips over the fine bones of her ankles and the tops of her feet. "What do you think I should do?"
"Noah." She shakes her head slowly, pushing the lid of her laptop closed. "You have to do what's right for you." However much she wants him here, it isn't her place to say that, to make the decision more complicated for him.
He takes the computer from her lap and leans forward, setting it on the coffee table. "What do you think?" he repeats. He wants her opinion. He doesn't know what, exactly he wants her to say, but Rachel's always been good at saying the right thing at the right time. He's hoping she can do that now.
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, then sighs softly. "You have a head start on building a reputation here, and you know the city a little. In Austin, you'd be starting from scratch. It can be nice not to have any expectations on your shoulders when you're starting out somewhere," she offers, trying to be as practical and unbiased as possible.
He watches her carefully for a moment. Sometimes, she thinks so much, so hard, that he can practically hear it. Now is one of those times. "What do you want me to do?"
She shakes her head quickly. "What I want doesn't matter. You have to decide for you."
"Rachel."
"Noah, no." He knows what she wants, and she doesn't understand why he's trying to get her to say it. She doesn't want him to be able to look back and say that he did it for her and resent her for it.
He reaches for her hand and squeezes it gently. "Do you want me to be in New York?"
"Oh, Noah," she sighs, looking away from him and swallowing hard. "Of course I want you here, but you can't come to New York for me."
And as soon as she says it, he realizes that it's exactly what he needed to hear her say, however stupid that is. He knows that Rachel doesn't need anyone - she can take care of herself better than almost anyone he knows. But the thing is, he needs to know that she wants him around.
That's kind of what the Shelby thing was about for him; not the idea that she needs him there to help her deal with shit, but that she wants to tell him things, that she wants him to be there for her when things aren't easy, when they get hard and make her crazy.
Hearing her say that she wants him here isn't the be all, end all for his decision, but he's not going to lie and pretend that it doesn't make a difference.
Noah wraps his free hand around her thigh and pulls, tugging her until she's straddling his thighs. Her heart starts to beat a little faster when he slips his hand into her hair, his thumb brushing along her hairline slowly. "I fucking miss you," he murmurs, watching her eyes.
She kisses him because she has to.
She sighs against his mouth after a moment because it seems like it's been so long since she's been here with him like this, had him like this. It feels amazing, but not just the the way the hair at the nape of his neck is soft between her fingers or how solid he is in front of her; emotionally, it feels like they're back to where they were before Rachel let herself let Shelby mess things up for her again.
Puck wants her. He's always wanted her in one way or another, even when he had someone else, and that probably isn't going to change any time soon. The thing is, he has her now, and he doesn't want to rush it. He takes his time kissing her, letting his fingers slip through her hair, pushing his free hand beneath the back of her shirt to rest against her skin, smooth and hot at the small of her back.
He can tell when she starts to get impatient, tightening her fingers in his hair and grinding her hips down against his. She whimpers when he nips at her bottom lip with his teeth. "Noah."
Noah just hums against her mouth, and while she can usually appreciate a slow and steady sort of approach, right now, she doesn't understand where he's getting this self-restraint.
He's only kissed her, and Rachel feels like she's burning up from the inside out.
When she pushes herself out of his lap, he blinks up at her, his hair a mess from her hands running through it. She watches him for a moment, then unzips her hoodie, peeling it off and dropping it on the couch beside him before turning to walk into her bedroom.
Puck's up off the couch before she's out of the room, wrapping an arm around her waist and leaning down to kiss along her shoulder next to the strap of her tank top. Her head rolls to the side a little as he moves his lips up the side of her neck, even as she manages to keep her feet moving forward.
"I missed this," she admits quietly when they're in her room, standing beside her bed.
"Yeah." He doesn't mean to sound disinterested in what she's saying, because he missed it, too, but he's pushing her tank top up over her head, working to get her naked, and she's trying to have a conversation.
She lets him push her back onto the bed, laughing breathlessly when he hooks his fingers in the sides of the cotton shorts she's wearing and tugs them down her legs before pulling off his shirt. His body look amazing
There's a moment, when she's lying on her bed in her bra and panties and he's looking down at her, where she feels a surge of anxiety, a prickle of fear that comes from having been in almost this exact situation with him before when he walked away. She should be past it, yes, but the way things have been between them for the last few months doesn't really inspire confidence.
"Fucking gorgeous," he mutters, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans off his hips with his boxers, and when he gets onto her bed and hovers over her, her anxiety melts away.
Puck doesn't care how impatient she is - and she is - he takes his time, kissing along her collarbone and across her chest before he slips a hand beneath her to unhook her bra. She's all whimpers and sighs as he touches her, and the way she breathes his name when he tugs her panties down her legs might be the sexiest thing he's ever heard. Or, it's the sexiest thing he's ever heard until he hears the moan she lets out when he sinks into her, her leg coming up to wrap around his hip.
"Oh, god," she whimpers, bringing her hand to back of his neck. "God, you feel good."
He kisses her instead of answering, curling his tongue around hers while he thrusts slowly, pushing as deep as he can go and grinding against her before pulling back out again. It makes her crazy, and when she has to tear her mouth from his to moan, he smirks down at her. "Good, baby?"
She moans again when he snaps his hips, digging her heel into the small of his back in an effort to keep him closer. "Yes."
He slips his hand between them when she brings her other leg up around his hip, a sure sign that she's close, and she comes with a low moan after just a few sure strokes of his thumb against her nerves.
Rachel falls asleep just after, her leg draped over his and her breath warm against his chest where she's curled against him. It isn't normal for her, but it makes sense given how tired Puck knows she's been. He doesn't hate it at all, having her close like this.
It gets him thinking about what happens in a couple of months when he graduates. He's moving across the country, in one direction or the other, and now he just has to decide where he wants to go.
Rachel made some good points; Puck has a reputation here at Helmsley and Monroe, which could be a blessing or a curse (and he knows all about being cursed by his reputation), but there's something to be said for going somewhere that no one knows a thing about him. He can totally get behind the Texas thing, and Austin's a cool city, the kind of place he's pretty sure he could make his own. Having spent time here though, Puck can see why people think of New York as the center of the world. There isn't much that a guy could want that he couldn't find here.
Including Rachel.
He knows it's a bad idea to come to New York because of Rachel, to base his decision on the fact that she's here. He could wind up resenting her, or worse. But then...well, is it wrong to factor her in? Not coming to New York because she's here, but considering the fact that she is as part of the overall appeal of the city.
Fuck, he's spending more energy trying to say that Rachel isn't part of the reason he wants to be in New York than he is actually thinking about where he wants to work and go to school.
Rachel sighs in her sleep, pressing herself a little closer to him, and he's gotta stop thinking about this right now. His brain's all muddled by sex and the fact that she's naked and all up on him, and he's going to end up letting all that convince him that he should be in New York.
(He's pretty sure that he's going to choose New York anyhow, but he's enough of an adult to know that deciding like this is a terrible idea.)
Chapter: 15/17
Rating: R
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Word Count: 7,650
Summary: And maybe it's an awful thing to think, but he wonders what's worse for her, losing New York or losing her dad.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Puck's schedule for the semester is kind of fucking ridiculous. Besides classes, he's spending about ten hours a week at a local architecture firm for an internship, and he's looking at grad schools. Not going to grad school isn't an option if he ever wants to actually be an architect, which also means that he needs to bust his ass to keep his GPA up and to make sure that some of his professors will write letters of recommendation and stuff. Ideally, he'll get a job at a firm where they're willing to pay for part of his grad school, and he'll spend a couple of years doing bullshit work while he finishes his degree.
He finds a rhythm pretty quickly though, because even though the shit is harder and way more important, he was actually busier in high school when he was juggling sports with school and glee, especially once he started like, actually going to class and turning in homework and shit. Besides, he likes being busy.
It makes it harder to find time to think about Rachel.
It's been nearly two months since they've really talked, though it isn't complete radio silence between them. They talk every couple of weeks, but it's entirely superficial, mostly just catching up on what they're doing. These conversations kind of remind him of when they first started talking through glee, sort of stilted and unsure. (At least, the conversations they had that weren't her babbling about music and Broadway or him trying to seduce her out of her skirt.)
He's tried putting himself in her shoes, but every time he does, all he can think about is his dad. If that fucker ever came around and told Puck that he was sorry and he wanted a chance to get to know his son, Puck would tell him to fuck himself. It isn't the same thing as Rachel and Shelby at all, but he can't be objective about any of it. He just doesn't get what Rachel thinks she needs from Shelby, especially after the manipulative shit the woman pulled with Jesse St. James.
(Looking back now, he can absolve Jesse of a lot of that. The guy was a kid. Shelby, however, knew exactly what she was doing, and should have known better than to do something like that to a teenaged girl.)
He gave Santana a Cliff's Notes version of what happened when she asked him why she wasn't overhearing all of his 'sappy ass conversations with Babs,' and she just stared at him for a minute after he finished talking.
"She told you she loves you," she'd said, setting her hands on her hips. It wasn't a question, so Puck didn't say anything, though he wasn't sure how she knew. Santana shook her head. "You can only use all of this as an excuse to stay away from her for so long, Puck, then you're going to have to deal with the fact that she's just as in love with you as you are with her."
She'd left him sitting there on the couch, gaping after her when she went out the front door saying something about staying with Finn.
He didn't talk to her for three days, because fuck her and her psychoanalysis bullshit. This is about the fact that Rachel lied, not because she said she loves him and he's running scared.
*
One afternoon near the end of February, Rachel gets a call from an unknown number. Most people don't answer calls from numbers they don't recognize, but she always does. It could be a casting director who saw her in a performance and wants to cast her in an exciting new musical, or a music producer who wants to sign her to a contract and turn her into a Grammy-winning recording artist.
You never know.
"Rachel, it's Shelby." Rachel feels herself deflate. However unrealistic her fantasies are, it's always a letdown when she's reminded that they're just that. "I've been worried about you."
Rachel hasn't spoken to Shelby since the party. She's ignored her calls and deleted her emails without reading them. If Rachel learned anything about herself through this experience with Shelby - especially combined with her last experience with her - it's that she doesn't need the woman. She doesn't exactly regret it though, because at least now she has the answer to her what if.
"Well, that's sweet, I suppose, but misguided," Rachel says, her tone polite.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You don't have to worry about me, Shelby. You don't need to feel any more obligated to worry about my well-being than you did for the first two decades of my life."
Shelby makes a strangled noise. "Rachel--"
"I'm sorry," she interrupts. "That was uncalled for. But the fact of the matter is, I don't need you in my life. I used to think that there were things I could only get from you, but now I know better, and both times that you've come back into my life, it's messed everything up," Rachel explains. It feels inelegant, but it's the truth, and she isn't going to hold back now.
"Rachel, I don't--"
"Last time, you told me that you didn't want me, so I know how much it hurts," she whispers. "I'm sorry, but please don't contact me again."
She doesn't ever actually say the words - of course, neither did Shelby, all those years ago - but she knows that the implication is clear.
Rachel is nervous when she decides to call Noah and tell him what happened. She's a little wary of bringing Shelby up at all, lest it drag out some unfinished business, but at the same time, she doesn't want him to think that she's hiding things again. She's not entirely sure of how to broach the subject.
In the end, she just blurts it out. "Shelby called me this afternoon."
Puck can feel himself tense up. "Oh, yeah?"
"I've been ignoring her calls, but she was at a number I didn't recognize. I told her I didn't want her to be a part of my life."
Puck takes a deep breath. "Are you okay?"
It's more sincere than anything she's heard him say in months, and she loves the way it sounds. "I really am."
It's the absolute truth, and it feels amazing.
"They announced the auditions for the musical today," she says, changing the subject. She doesn't want to talk about that woman any more.
"So is it West Side Story?" He knows that's what she wants to do. She heard a rumor forever ago, and she built this elaborate fantasy scenario that involved being discovered by a director or whoever on her first night as Maria. In her head, this guy is looking for the perfect girl to lead his Broadway revival of the show, and he's so impressed by Rachel that she's got her name on a marquee by September.
"Thoroughly Modern Millie, actually, but I can work with that." It could have been much worse, really, even if it isn't exactly what she was hoping for. She thinks she'll make a perfect Millie, and she's always loved the flapper look.
"You've never told me about that one," he tells her. He knows she'll understand that this is an invitation for her to tell him all about it. It's been a while since she's talked his ear off about a show, and he actually finds himself smiling as she launches into a description of a musical that, when you get right down to it, is about a girl who falls in love.
He's pretty sure she'll be perfect.
*
She'd be lying if she said she wasn't worried that she might not be cast as the lead in this show, no matter how well-prepared she is. There's no accounting for taste, as they say, and stranger things have happened, to throw another cliché into the mix.
Of course, Rachel Berry is an actress - a better one now than she was two years ago - and it's simply part of her job to push aside the nerves that she feels and show them what she's got.
The feeling that goes through her when she sees her name at the top of the cast list is the best thing that's happened to her all year.
*
When Puck starts thinking about grad school and where he wants to be, geographically speaking, New York is one of the first places that comes up. He knows that he wants to do two things with his career: design enormous houses for people with more money than brains and design affordable homes for people who have nothing. The easiest way to be able to do the second is to be in a place where he can be really good at the first. Big cities are a logical choice. He's been to New York and has professional ties there already, and there's an endless stream of rich fuckers.
And yeah, Rachel's there. Whatever.
He's looking at other cities though. Phoenix, Denver, Austin, D.C., Chicago, of course. Columbus is his fallback, only because he's already here and the firm where he's doing his internship this semester already said they would hire him if he was interested.
The firms in Denver, Phoenix, and D.C. all give him a polite 'fuck you,' which, when he considers the fact that he gets interviews with places in Chicago and Austin plus the firm he interned at in New York, is all right. He doesn't have the patience for political bullshit, so D.C. would piss him off, and he likes having seasons, so Phoenix would probably get old really fast. And he hates the fucking Broncos.
He drives to Chicago on a Tuesday to interview at a place that he hates the second he walks in. The building is sleek and modern and techy, which isn't Puck's aesthetic at all. He likes spaces that are cozy and meant to be lived in, and he just doesn't get that from modern. He has learned not to burn bridges though, so he gives them his best stuff; better to get his start somewhere radically different from what he wants to do than not to go anywhere at all.
"Does the way their offices look really matter?" Rachel asks when he calls her on his drive home. It's taken years, but she's finally stopped giving him shit for talking and driving at the same time.
"It's an architecture firm," he says flatly. Yeah, it matters.
She makes a face even though he can't see her. "I'm just trying to help."
"Mmhmm." He grins when she huffs. "How was rehearsal?"
"Long. We're working on a tap sequence that's killing me. So you should really be nice to me right now," she adds pointedly.
"I'm always nice to you, baby," he teases.
Rachel closes her eyes and takes a little breath. She never thought she'd be so relieved to hear a silly pet name, but after two months of Noah treating her like he barely knew her, hearing it now is everything. It's absurd, but she thinks she wouldn't mind if he never used her given name again as long as he didn't stop calling her baby like that. He hasn't actually said that he's ready to forgive her, but even if he isn't quite there, she knows he's getting closer.
His interview in Austin is during spring break, so Puck convinces Finn to come with him for the week. Neither of them has ever been able to have a 'real' spring break; Finn was always doing the football thing and Puck just never got around to it, so this is their last chance. They might as well take advantage of it. And there's something right about getting to do this with the guy who's been his best friend for fucking ever, especially after everything they've been through over the years.
Santana comes into Puck's room the night before they leave. "Don't let him do anything stupid."
"Don't be a bitch, San," he tells her mildly, barely glancing up from his laptop.
"I'm serious, Puck," she insists. "Look, we're actually dating now, and if you tell me that you aren't going to push him into bed with a skanky blonde, I won't have to worry about it at all."
He finally looks at her and sees the expression on her face. She's totally not kidding. "All right. Go fuck him or something," he suggests. He knows Finn's just passed out in her bed, which is dumb. He should be awake, so he can fuck his girl tonight, then sleep on the plane. Win-win.
Santana flips him off before she leaves the room.
It takes exactly three days in Austin for Puck to decide that he could definitely live here. It's a cool social scene, and the city's got that whole urban sprawl thing going on, which is basically bank for what he wants to do.
Being a college student on spring break in Austin doesn't suck either. It's kind of a bro-cation. Santana has Finn's balls in her pocket back in Columbus, so Puck agreed not to desert the dude every night to go get laid. It's all right though, because he and Finn haven't been able to hang out like this much in the last couple of years. (And, unless something crazy happens, they probably won't be living in the same city for much longer.)
"So what's up with you and Santana?" he asks at lunch one day. They're at this kick-ass Mexican place they found the night they got here; this is their third meal at this restaurant in as many days.
Finn shrugs. "I kind of love her," he says around a mouthful of chips and salsa.
Puck freezes with his beer halfway to his mouth. "Are you serious with that shit?"
"Yeah," he says, shrugging again. "She's awesome."
"She's a bitch," Puck counters seriously. He knows, okay? He's dated her and fucked her and lived with her for three years. If there's one thing in the world he knows for sure, it's that Santana Lopez is a bitch.
"Yeah, well." Finn eats another chip and takes his time chewing. "I like it."
Puck spends the rest of lunch razzing Finn about Santana dressing up as a dom and making Finn her bitch since the guy's obviously a masochist. To his credit, Finn takes it all in stride, ordering them both enough rounds of tequila shots that they're both half-wasted by the time they head out.
(And even though he's giving him shit, Puck gets it. They're too alike to ever work in a relationship, but Puck loves her bitchy ass, and Finn has always liked bossy women. As long as they're both happy, Puck's happy for them.)
His interview is awesome. Legit, they tell him that he has a job waiting there if he decides that he wants to move to Austin. He and Finn spend their night out toasting Puck's potential job - not that they need an excuse - and they get a little carried away. They're back at their hotel by midnight, and Finn's passed the hell out on his bed. (Puck rolls him onto his stomach and sets the trash can next to him just in case. Losing his best friend because the guy chokes on his own puke in a hotel room is not the way Puck wants to remember Austin, Texas.) He hits the vending machine with dollar bills that he steals out of Finn's wallet, then decides that calling Rachel is the best idea ever when he's halfway through a bag of Funyuns.
"Is something wrong?" That's how she answers the phone, her voice all full of sleep.
"Nope. 'S'up, baby?"
"You're drunk," she sighs, and he hears some rustling in the background. He figures she's in bed and wonders what she's wearing.
"Yeah I am," Puck agrees easily, crunching on another deep fried onion ring. Or whatever it is that Funyuns are made from. "I got offered a job today."
"That's wonderful, Noah, but did you have to wake me up to tell me that? I have a rehearsal in six hours," she says with a glance at her alarm clock. She knows that he's forgotten that he's in a different time zone, but also that it wouldn't matter either way, so she just pulls the covers up over her shoulders and snuggles further into her pillow.
"Sorry." He doesn't sound sorry at all, which just makes her roll her eyes. "I still have to interview at Hell to the No, though."
"What?" She's so tired that she can't be bothered to try to make sense of what he's saying.
"In New York City," he says, enunciating each word.
"Right."
Bringing up Helmsley and Monroe makes him think about this summer and spending time with her and how easy it is to be with her.
"Hey, Rach?"
"Mmm?"
"I forgive you."
Her eyes had been closed, and she was struggling not to drift off, wanting to be sure that Noah wasn't so drunk that he was going to be sick before she hung up and went back to sleep, but they pop open when he says those words, and she blinks into the darkness of her bedroom when he keeps talking.
"For the shit with Shelby. I get it, why you did what you did, and you asked me to tell you when I was ready to forgive you." He pauses, looking out over the hotel pool. "I forgive you." He's been thinking about it for a while, and he's tired of thinkings being weird between them. He wants it to be the way it was, and he thinks this is the quickest way to get there.
Rachel lets out a breath that she didn't realize she was holding. "Okay," she whispers. She doesn't know what else to say right now. Maybe if she wasn't half-asleep, she could form a more coherent response.
"So we're good," he states, shoving a Funyun in his mouth. It feels good. Not eating the Funyun. That doesn't feel like anything. Being good with Rachel feels good. Shit, he's right on the edge of too drunk, but he knows he's just sober enough that he'll remember all of this tomorrow, which is exactly what he tells her when she asks.
"Good." It's amazing, the relief she feels right now. She wants to talk to him, especially now, but she's exhausted, and she can feel sleep overtaking her. The last thing she hears before she drifts off with the phone in her hand is Noah crunching on something.
She dreams of Noah walking around her apartment in a black beaded dress like the one she was being fitted for that morning, eating potato chips, dropping crumbs everywhere while he directs Finn and Mike in the construction of a new house that juts out of the side of her apartment building, the front porch just beyond her closet.
She's still tired when she gets to rehearsal the next morning, but her mood is absolutely brilliant. It's a cliché to say that she feels that a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, but she truly does feel lighter, and it shows in her performance. The fact that her director tells her that she's just turned in her best performance yet of "Not for the Life of Me" is absolute proof.
It feels amazing.
*
When Puck gets off the plane in New York this time around, no one's waiting for him. Rachel has class and then rehearsal, so she told him to just go ahead to her place and she'd see him later. Neither of them realized it until she brought it up, but he still has keys to her apartment on his key ring.
He's not totally sure how this weekend is going to go, staying with her like this. Things are different between them since the last time he was here, and they haven't quite gotten back to where they were before. He doesn't even know whether he's going to be sleeping with her or on the sofabed. They haven't talked about it.
Honestly, they haven't talked about a lot lately, but just because Rachel is stupidly busy. She has classes and rehearsals, and apparently they have some senior recital thing in May - after the musical closes - that she's already getting ready for. He's a little bit worried about her pushing herself too hard, especially since she's fallen asleep on the phone with him more than once in the last few weeks, but it's not like he can really say anything about it. Rachel's an adult, and she knows how to take care of herself.
He's sitting on the couch watching Colbert when she comes in, setting her keys next to his on the table just inside the door and dropping her bag, stepping out of her shoes on her way to the couch. She sits herself across his lap without a word, setting one hand on his chest and pressing her face against his neck. "Hi," she murmurs, her breath warm on his skin.
She feels the, "Hey," rumble in his chest and presses herself closer. He's warm and solid and here, and it feels amazing to come home to him like this. She's almost able to forget how strained things have been between them in the last few months.
"This has been the longest day ever," she says, pulling back a bit to look at him. "How was your flight?"
"Fine. I got Chinese and ordered you some of those noodles," he tells her.
"Thanks, but I think I'm just going to go to bed." She says it, but instead of moving off his lap, she lays her head on his shoulder. "What time is your interview?"
"Ten." His hand slides up her back and tangles in the ends of her hair. "Do you have class?"
"No, but I have rehearsal at noon." He doesn't say anything, and after a moment she feels herself starting to drift off. She opens her eyes and blinks a few times. Honestly, it's ridiculous how tired she's been, but between classes and rehearsals, it's hard not to be. She's hoping that Noah isn't going to want to go do anything on Sunday, because it's her only day without a rehearsal in the next two weeks, being a holiday, and she'd really like to spend as much of it as possible relaxing.
She forces herself to get up out of his lap when her eyes start closing again. "I'm going to wash my face."
When she comes back a little later, she's wearing a tank top and a tiny pair of shorts. "You don't have to stay on the pull-out," she tells him, leaning against the doorway. "I don't mind sharing."
It's exactly what he was waiting for, if he's being honest. He and Rachel have spent as much time feeling weird around one another for various reasons as they have feeling normal, so they should probably be used to it. Sleeping in the same bed isn't a big deal for them, whatever else is going on. At least, it never was before. And yeah, he forgave her, but it feels a little like they're starting over again.
There's a star-shaped post-it note stuck to her bathroom mirror that reads, All the hard work is worth it when you're on top. It's so Rachel that he can't help smiling when he's in there.
She's already in bed when he finishes brushing his teeth, lying there with just the lamp on his bedside table burning. "I like your note," he says, unbuckling his belt after he's pulled his tee shirt over his head.
"It's an affirmation," she corrects sleepily, turning towards him when he crawls into bed beside her. "Will you wake me up before you leave tomorrow?"
"Sure," he lies, reaching over to turn off the lamp. As tired as she is right now, if she's still asleep when he leaves tomorrow, he's going to let her sleep. "C'mere." He tugs her closer, until she's curled into his side, her hand resting on his chest over his heart.
*
He never thought that getting a job would be the easy part. Aren't people supposed to struggle and grasp and go without for however long before they finally catch a break? It's not working that way for him. He never, ever thought that things would come easy for him, not when it seems like everything else in his life has been so hard.
Hell to the No offers him the job before he even finishes the interview, so now he has to decide where he wants to live for the next few years. (And if he does choose New York, he's going to have to start calling the firm by its real name all the time, or he's going to slip in front of someone important who won't get the joke at all.) He's already ruled out Chicago and Columbus, which means he's choosing between Austin and New York, two places that couldn't be more different if they tried.
He figures it's best to give himself a few days to think about it, so once he's told his mom (who squeals so loudly into the phone that his ear rings), he pushes it all out of his mind.
He finds Rachel's rehearsal schedule on the fridge when he goes back to her place to change. He's standing in the kitchen eating cold Chinese straight out of the carton, reading this piece of paper with dates and times and places on it - Rachel's highlighted all of the things that are pertinent to her in pink highlighter - and he figures that he might as well go see what this show's all about. He isn't doing anything else.
Rachel's up on stage when Puck slips into the theater and takes a seat all the way in the back. She's talking to someone sitting out in the audience, nodding her head while she pulls her hair up into a ponytail. She starts singing about a guy named Jimmy, and Puck realizes that it's been years since he's seen her up on stage, singing like this. He's not going to be able to be in the city when the show opens, so he's taking what he can get with this.
There's no way that she isn't going to blow away everyone who sees this show. Puck's kind of blown away, and this is just a rehearsal. Plus, it isn't like he hasn't seen what she can do; he's seen Rachel bring crowds to their feet with her voice before. He knows what it feels like to hear her for the first time, and he doesn't see how she can be anything but a star after all of this.
He leaves after about an hour. He knows that she'll just be annoyed (or disappointed, or whatever) that he saw part of the performance before it was 'perfect,' so he doesn't say anything when she gets home later, just asks her if she'd rather order pizza or Indian for dinner.
*
Puck goes out to Brooklyn to spend the day with Chang when Rachel goes to rehearsal on Saturday. The guy's leaving for Europe in a few weeks, going back on tour with Derulo like a boss, and it's been a long time since they've gotten a chance to hang out. Puck misses the guy.
They got to a restaurant that's been voted best chicken in the city for the last however many years for lunch, and Puck considers telling Mike that he loves him for it. He loves the girl to death, and he really doesn't care what Rachel eats, but there are just some restaurants that they can't go to together. There's no way this place has anything vegan on their menu.
(It's funny, but he catches himself looking for vegan options on the menu whenever he goes to a restaurant, no matter where he is. She's all up under his skin.)
He's practically up to his elbows in chicken grease (yeah, he eats fried chicken with his hands; how else are you supposed to do it?) when Mike wipes his hands on a napkin and look across the table at him seriously. "You know she's in love with you, dude." Puck struggles not to choke on his chicken. "She thought she was doing the right thing by not telling you about Shelby."
Puck reaches for his napkin, shaking his head. "Mike..."
"Man, if you aren't going to be with her when you get here, you gotta cut her loose," Mike says bluntly. "I fucking love that girl, and she's been through enough.
"Look, she told me that you two probably would have been together if it wasn't for the distance thing. And she doesn't tell me stuff, but I know her, okay? If you move here, she's going to think that means there's hope for you two being together."
Puck raises an eyebrow. "So are you saying that I shouldn't move here if I don't want to be with her?" When he told Chang about the two job offers this morning, this isn't exactly what he thought would happen. He was figuring he'd get a slap on the back and a 'congrats,' not a heart to heart about the girl they've both had in bed. (Jesus.)
Mike shakes his head. "No, you just need to make sure that she knows what's up." He watches Puck for a second, then nods his head and goes back to his drumstick like nothing happened at all, changing the subject completely and talking about the upcoming subway series games.
And look, it's not that Puck hasn't realized that being in the city would mean getting see what he and Rachel could be, but it's not like he can base his career decision around her. He's twenty-two; this is the time in his life when he's supposed to be making selfish decisions and doing what's right for him without considering the consequences for anyone else.
He spends his entire trip back into Manhattan thinking about what Mike said and where he wants to be. Puck knows better than to ask any of his friends for advice, and he already knows what most of them will say anyhow. Santana loves New York, and she thinks it's just a matter of time before he and Rachel are together. Finn will tell him to go to Austin because it has a smaller feel, and for all of his talk in high school about going wherever Rachel was going, the guy isn't made for a city as big as New York. Puck's mom would totally ignore the options and tell him to stay in Columbus or go to Chicago just because she wants him to be close. Honestly, what Mike said is probably the closest thing to helpful advice that he's going to get.
Rachel's sitting on the couch with her computer when he lets himself into the apartment, her bare legs stretched out across the cushions. She has music playing, something soft and piano-driven that's completely different than the music in her show, like she's taking a break from the jazzy thing. He lifts her legs to sit with her on the couch, sliding his hand along her shins when they're laying across his lap.
He feels her flex her calves when she looks at him. "How's Mike?"
Puck scoffs. "Kid's going to Europe. He's awesome," he answers, grinning when she laughs.
"Did he take you to the chicken place for lunch?" She laughs when Puck looks at her with raised eyebrows. "He's obsessed with that restaurant. I knew he'd love having someone new to take."
"That chicken is awesome," he admits, grinning when she shakes her head.
She goes back to what she was doing, the sound of her rapid typing reminding him that despite how relaxed she looks right this second, the girl almost never slows the hell down. He likes it though; it makes those moments when she does relax and take a break that much better, special even, because it's almost a novelty. He thinks about the day they spent in Battery Park last summer, quiet and relaxed, and the night they spent in her bed after that. It's special that he's gotten to see her that way. God, he's seen her differently than almost anyone has in the last few years, seen her fall apart and put herself back together. He's seen her slow down and breathe, and now he's seeing that crazy drive to be on top coming out again.
And he's pretty sure he's still just scratched the surface with her.
"I have to choose between moving here or moving to Austin," he says suddenly.
Rachel looks past her computer screen at him and blinks. She didn't even know that he'd been offered the job here in the city. "That's a big decision," she says after a moment, calmly, trying to be diplomatic. She loves the idea of having him here in the city with her, of maybe having a chance to be with him, but that isn't for her to say. This is his decision, and he doesn't need her muddling things up.
Puck traces his fingertips over the fine bones of her ankles and the tops of her feet. "What do you think I should do?"
"Noah." She shakes her head slowly, pushing the lid of her laptop closed. "You have to do what's right for you." However much she wants him here, it isn't her place to say that, to make the decision more complicated for him.
He takes the computer from her lap and leans forward, setting it on the coffee table. "What do you think?" he repeats. He wants her opinion. He doesn't know what, exactly he wants her to say, but Rachel's always been good at saying the right thing at the right time. He's hoping she can do that now.
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, then sighs softly. "You have a head start on building a reputation here, and you know the city a little. In Austin, you'd be starting from scratch. It can be nice not to have any expectations on your shoulders when you're starting out somewhere," she offers, trying to be as practical and unbiased as possible.
He watches her carefully for a moment. Sometimes, she thinks so much, so hard, that he can practically hear it. Now is one of those times. "What do you want me to do?"
She shakes her head quickly. "What I want doesn't matter. You have to decide for you."
"Rachel."
"Noah, no." He knows what she wants, and she doesn't understand why he's trying to get her to say it. She doesn't want him to be able to look back and say that he did it for her and resent her for it.
He reaches for her hand and squeezes it gently. "Do you want me to be in New York?"
"Oh, Noah," she sighs, looking away from him and swallowing hard. "Of course I want you here, but you can't come to New York for me."
And as soon as she says it, he realizes that it's exactly what he needed to hear her say, however stupid that is. He knows that Rachel doesn't need anyone - she can take care of herself better than almost anyone he knows. But the thing is, he needs to know that she wants him around.
That's kind of what the Shelby thing was about for him; not the idea that she needs him there to help her deal with shit, but that she wants to tell him things, that she wants him to be there for her when things aren't easy, when they get hard and make her crazy.
Hearing her say that she wants him here isn't the be all, end all for his decision, but he's not going to lie and pretend that it doesn't make a difference.
Noah wraps his free hand around her thigh and pulls, tugging her until she's straddling his thighs. Her heart starts to beat a little faster when he slips his hand into her hair, his thumb brushing along her hairline slowly. "I fucking miss you," he murmurs, watching her eyes.
She kisses him because she has to.
She sighs against his mouth after a moment because it seems like it's been so long since she's been here with him like this, had him like this. It feels amazing, but not just the the way the hair at the nape of his neck is soft between her fingers or how solid he is in front of her; emotionally, it feels like they're back to where they were before Rachel let herself let Shelby mess things up for her again.
Puck wants her. He's always wanted her in one way or another, even when he had someone else, and that probably isn't going to change any time soon. The thing is, he has her now, and he doesn't want to rush it. He takes his time kissing her, letting his fingers slip through her hair, pushing his free hand beneath the back of her shirt to rest against her skin, smooth and hot at the small of her back.
He can tell when she starts to get impatient, tightening her fingers in his hair and grinding her hips down against his. She whimpers when he nips at her bottom lip with his teeth. "Noah."
Noah just hums against her mouth, and while she can usually appreciate a slow and steady sort of approach, right now, she doesn't understand where he's getting this self-restraint.
He's only kissed her, and Rachel feels like she's burning up from the inside out.
When she pushes herself out of his lap, he blinks up at her, his hair a mess from her hands running through it. She watches him for a moment, then unzips her hoodie, peeling it off and dropping it on the couch beside him before turning to walk into her bedroom.
Puck's up off the couch before she's out of the room, wrapping an arm around her waist and leaning down to kiss along her shoulder next to the strap of her tank top. Her head rolls to the side a little as he moves his lips up the side of her neck, even as she manages to keep her feet moving forward.
"I missed this," she admits quietly when they're in her room, standing beside her bed.
"Yeah." He doesn't mean to sound disinterested in what she's saying, because he missed it, too, but he's pushing her tank top up over her head, working to get her naked, and she's trying to have a conversation.
She lets him push her back onto the bed, laughing breathlessly when he hooks his fingers in the sides of the cotton shorts she's wearing and tugs them down her legs before pulling off his shirt. His body look amazing
There's a moment, when she's lying on her bed in her bra and panties and he's looking down at her, where she feels a surge of anxiety, a prickle of fear that comes from having been in almost this exact situation with him before when he walked away. She should be past it, yes, but the way things have been between them for the last few months doesn't really inspire confidence.
"Fucking gorgeous," he mutters, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans off his hips with his boxers, and when he gets onto her bed and hovers over her, her anxiety melts away.
Puck doesn't care how impatient she is - and she is - he takes his time, kissing along her collarbone and across her chest before he slips a hand beneath her to unhook her bra. She's all whimpers and sighs as he touches her, and the way she breathes his name when he tugs her panties down her legs might be the sexiest thing he's ever heard. Or, it's the sexiest thing he's ever heard until he hears the moan she lets out when he sinks into her, her leg coming up to wrap around his hip.
"Oh, god," she whimpers, bringing her hand to back of his neck. "God, you feel good."
He kisses her instead of answering, curling his tongue around hers while he thrusts slowly, pushing as deep as he can go and grinding against her before pulling back out again. It makes her crazy, and when she has to tear her mouth from his to moan, he smirks down at her. "Good, baby?"
She moans again when he snaps his hips, digging her heel into the small of his back in an effort to keep him closer. "Yes."
He slips his hand between them when she brings her other leg up around his hip, a sure sign that she's close, and she comes with a low moan after just a few sure strokes of his thumb against her nerves.
Rachel falls asleep just after, her leg draped over his and her breath warm against his chest where she's curled against him. It isn't normal for her, but it makes sense given how tired Puck knows she's been. He doesn't hate it at all, having her close like this.
It gets him thinking about what happens in a couple of months when he graduates. He's moving across the country, in one direction or the other, and now he just has to decide where he wants to go.
Rachel made some good points; Puck has a reputation here at Helmsley and Monroe, which could be a blessing or a curse (and he knows all about being cursed by his reputation), but there's something to be said for going somewhere that no one knows a thing about him. He can totally get behind the Texas thing, and Austin's a cool city, the kind of place he's pretty sure he could make his own. Having spent time here though, Puck can see why people think of New York as the center of the world. There isn't much that a guy could want that he couldn't find here.
Including Rachel.
He knows it's a bad idea to come to New York because of Rachel, to base his decision on the fact that she's here. He could wind up resenting her, or worse. But then...well, is it wrong to factor her in? Not coming to New York because she's here, but considering the fact that she is as part of the overall appeal of the city.
Fuck, he's spending more energy trying to say that Rachel isn't part of the reason he wants to be in New York than he is actually thinking about where he wants to work and go to school.
Rachel sighs in her sleep, pressing herself a little closer to him, and he's gotta stop thinking about this right now. His brain's all muddled by sex and the fact that she's naked and all up on him, and he's going to end up letting all that convince him that he should be in New York.
(He's pretty sure that he's going to choose New York anyhow, but he's enough of an adult to know that deciding like this is a terrible idea.)