That the Moon Elbowed the Stars 16/17
Title: That the Moon Elbowed the Stars
Chapter: 16/17
Rating: R
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Word Count: 7,700
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.
Rachel insists on getting out of bed on Sunday morning because, despite what she thought earlier this week, she has far too much energy to lie around and do nothing, even if it isn't doing nothing with Noah in her bed. It's nervous energy, anxiety; it's making her a little crazy to think about the decision that Noah's making, knowing that there's quite a good chance that he'll be in the city with her by June, but there's just as good a chance that he'll be even further away in Austin than he already is back home.
They go to a Jewish deli a few blocks from her apartment that she found and likes because they not only have good coffee, but because the people behind the counter have never looked at her like she's crazy when she asks for soy milk for that coffee, a regular occurrence at other establishments throughout the city. (Honestly, soy milk is not a strange request.) Noah manages to get them a table near the door when another couple leaves, and he grins when Rachel crosses her legs and hooks one foot behind his calf beneath the table. She just wants to be touching him.
Puck knows that Rachel won't kiss him until he's brushed his teeth, but he really likes everything bagels with scallion cream cheese, and his first bite of this one proves that it's worth it. It's the best bagel he's ever eaten, and he put some effort into finding kick ass bagels last summer.
He knows that Rachel likes people-watching in places like this, where there are two kinds of customers: the ones who are in and out in just a few minutes and the ones who take their time and linger. It's one of her little habits that he's picked up over the years (not unlike the way that he yells things at sportscasters on TV exactly like Santana sometimes), and he finds himself gazing over her shoulder as she eats her fruit salad, watching a couple sitting there on the other side of the door, a guy and a girl just a few years older than Puck and Rachel are. They're totally wrapped up in each other, talking over the remains of their breakfast. The girl's telling a story, her face animated and her hands moving as she talks, and then the guy's laughing, shaking his head and taking her hand in his on top of the table. Puck recognizes the way he's looking at his girl, like she's half-crazy but he's totally nuts about her anyway, because Puck knows that he looks at Rachel like that at least once a day when they're actually in the same place at the same time.
Rachel nearly chokes on a raspberry when Noah looks at her and says, "I'm moving to New York," without preamble.
She finds that she doesn't care what his reason is, nor does she care about the horrible cream cheese that's lingering on his lips when she leans across the table to kiss him.
Later, when they're lying together in bed, Rachel has to stop herself from asking what it means for them that Noah is moving to the city. A million things could happen in the few months between now and then, and if there's anything that Rachel has learned in the past few years about life and having expectations for it, it's that things can change more quickly than you can keep up with.
She doesn't have time to worry about it. She has a musical to perfect and classes to get through and a recital at which she needs to perform more flawlessly than she ever has to get her name out there into the theater community. She doesn't have the time or energy to devote to worrying about things that could be happening in her personal life after graduation.
*
There's a moment on opening night, when she's singing with Charlotte and tap dancing across the stage, when Rachel feels the absolute perfection of being exactly where she's supposed to be. She's done shows since she came to New York, obviously, but she hasn't felt this certainty since New Directions' performance at Nationals senior year, side by side with her best friends, knowing that they were flawless together.
This though...it feels like she's just a hair's breadth from everything she's ever wanted. This is the last step, and maybe the most important.
It's everything.
Her father meets her backstage after the show, carrying a bouquet of pink tulips and looking at her like he's never seen her before.
"What?" she finally asks.
"You were perfect," he tells her quietly. "I always knew that you were good, but..." he trails off, shaking his head. "My God, Rachel, you're amazing. Your daddy would be so proud."
The tears start slipping down her cheeks almost immediately, and there isn't anything she can do to stop them. Part of becoming a star was always about making her fathers proud, about fulfilling her own dream and showing them that everything they sacrificed for her to pursue the stage was worth it. She doesn't say anything, just wraps her arms around her dad and hugs him tight, burying her face against his chest like a little girl.
Puck can't afford to just up and run to New York to see Rachel sing, financially or academically, but he calls in a favor to Mike (who tells him he's in Switzerland when he emails him back), who calls in a favor to one of his friends in the city, who gets into the theater (Puck doesn't care how) to record the show for him.
He should really be sleeping (he has to be at his internship at eight tomorrow morning), but when Puck gets the email just before eleven, he spends the next couple of hours sitting up in bed, watching Rachel be fucking amazing.
The whole thing kind of makes him feel like a pussy, so he keeps it to himself, just like he never told her that he snuck into the theater and watched rehearsal back in April. He doesn't tell Finn or Santana, and he sure as hell isn't going to tell Rachel. He knows that she'll get recordings of part of the performance that she'll keep to send to agents or directors or whoever, which means that she'll send him a copy that he can gush over without telling her about all the trouble that he went to.
As annoying as it was sometimes, listening to her talk about Broadway and her career and being a star, Puck doesn't know how she won't be exactly that. She's made him sit through a couple of YouTube videos of the chick who originated this role on Broadway, and Rachel is at least as good as she was. (He'd say she's better, but he knows he's biased.) It's all just a matter of time.
*
The day after the last performance of Thoroughly Modern Millie, Rachel gets a call from Lorelai Warner, the agent that she met at the wrap party for Kiss Me, Kate, the one who called her magnetic. Lorelai wants to represent Rachel, which has her jumping up and down even though she manages to keep her voice even and professional when she tells the woman that she's waiting to choose representation until after graduation, but she'll absolutely put Lorelai's name on the list. Graduation is just two weeks away, so asking for that time isn't unreasonable, and the woman agrees easily.
Lorelai Warner ends up being just the first name on a list of agents who think they can make Rachel Berry a star.
It's a heady feeling, a sense of validation for her talent after all this time, and she revels in it even as she feels anxious about making the right decision.
"Choose the one who represents the most famous people," Santana suggests when Rachel mentions it on the phone one night. It's utterly unhelpful, because the level of fame of someone's clients may or may not be related to their influence. Some people just are stars, no matter who's working on their behalf.
"You should be working with the person who is best able to get you to where you want to be, angelfish," Dad offers, which, again, helps her not at all. Of course she should, but the issue is choosing which person is that person. If it was that easy to tell, there wouldn't be anything more to it than telling that 'best' person that she wants to hire them.
"You know what I'd do?" Noah says when she talks to him about it. "I'd choose the one who's not a bastard. Or the one who's the least bastardly."
"That isn't a word," Rachel tells him, but she's smiling. She knows that really is how Noah would make such a decision; he'd choose the person that he liked best, regardless of credentials or clientele. And maybe he has a point; once all of the on-paper attributes are considered, maybe her gut instinct is the way to choose the person she wants to work with.
There's a reception after the senior recital that's designed to help students make exactly these sorts of connections, and Rachel uses the party as an opportunity to talk to as many people as she can, trying to gauge personalities and everything else, trying to find the person that her intellect and her intuition agree is the best choice. She's already done all the research she can do, reading online and talking to some of her professors, so now it's really about putting it all together and deciding.
She pulls a tiny notepad and a pen from her purse on the bus ride home, scrawling notes about each of the people she spoke with, and by the time she gets to her stop, she's narrowed the pool to three people: Lorelai, a gentleman named Patrick who just had a client pulled from the chorus of her show to replace the lead when she left, and a woman named Deborah who has been doing the job for years and has an incredibly impressive contact list.
She should probably sleep on a decision like this, the first big one of her career, but she's too energized and impatient to do that. Instead, she's up till nearly three, typing out her comments so she can really synthesize all of the information, even though she has to be up early to go to the airport and meet her father, who's flying in for graduation. The tipping point is the fact that Lorelai was the first person who approached her, way back in December, and used the word "magnetic" to describe Rachel's performance. Maybe it's a superficial reason to make such an important decision, but it feels right.
It should be hard to get out of bed at seven the next morning, but it isn't at all, and she doesn't even bother making a pot of coffee or stopping at the deli before heading to the airport to meet her dad. She doesn't need the caffeine, not when she feels like things are finally - finally - going the way they're supposed to in her life. She has plenty of natural energy.
She tells her father about her decision to hire Lorelai when they're in a cab on their way back into Manhattan to check into his hotel. He's told her over and over that it's her decision, but until she gets a role and starts making real money of her own, it's an expense that's going to be paid out of her nearly-empty college fund. (Two years at OSU combined with academic and music scholarships have helped to make it last a bit longer than they'd originally expected, but she can only rely on it for a very short while longer.) She explains her reasoning and is relieved to see that he's smiling as she finishes.
"That sounds very sensible," he says when she pauses. "She sounds like a fan of yours."
"Wouldn't she have to be, to want to represent me this way?"
"No," he says flatly. "She has to think that you're going to be successful and make her money, but she doesn't have to like you or what you do."
He has a point, she supposes, not that she likes it. She prefers to think of Lorelai as an ally, someone who would celebrate Rachel's success for what it is instead of just as a payday for herself. It's a bit delusional, perhaps, but Rachel's going to pretend that it's what she believes, keeping it to herself.
Commencement ceremonies are uneventful and far less personal than they felt in high school. Rachel wants to sit with Christina, but the girl's program is graduating at the 1:30 ceremony and Rachel's is at ten a.m., so she doesn't make any effort to sit with anyone particular. On her left is a boy with red hair and an awkward smile getting his degree in chemistry, and on her right is a girl wearing a Cartier trinity ring who can't be bothered to look away from her iPhone for long enough to let Rachel ask her what she's getting her degree in. (She finds out that the girl is getting her Bachelor of Arts in Psychology, which somehow makes sense.)
She poses for pictures in her cap and gown with her father, snapped by a perfectly lovely woman who is also a complete stranger, then peels off the uncomfortable and unflattering black polyester.
They go to a more extravagent restaurant than they normally would for lunch, one that Rachel has seen mentioned on some of the websites she's used to find some of her favorite places since she came to the city. Dad orders a bottle of champagne before she can stop him, despite the fact that it's just barely noon. "We're celebrating," he insists when she points out the time. "Your graduation, your recital, your musical, your new representation - we're celebrating all of it."
She can't deny that she likes celebrations, especially when they're for her, and it is quite a good time for one.
They're waiting for dessert (it's a celebration) when Dad reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out two envelopes and a little white jewelry box tied with a yellow ribbon. She takes them with a smile, nodding when he tells her to open the box first. Inside, she finds a pair of diamond stud earrings, martini-set in gold. "They're perfect," she breathes out, swallowing tears, because they are. She's always wanted diamond earrings, but Daddy thought that they were too extravagant for a teenager. He'd been telling her for years that he'd buy her diamonds when she graduated from college.
Dad is sitting across the table from her with tears in his eyes that match her own. As much as this is a gift from him, this is a gift from her Daddy, too. She knows that was the intention.
"The cards," he says when she finally looks up at him. "One is from your daddy." Rachel feels her jaw go slack. "He wrote it for you."
"I'm going to save them for later, then," she says when she feels like she can speak without a sob escaping from her throat.
They go to a matinee of a show, then to a quick dinner, and then he's leaving again, too soon, flying back to Ohio and work and all the things she left behind. She feels selfish, but she wishes that he was able to stay for more than two days at a time when he does come. She isn't lonely, exactly, in the city, but sometimes she does feel painfully alone, though they aren't the same thing.
She hopes that changes when Noah moves to the city. It's only a matter of weeks now.
She waits until later that night, when she's washed her face and brushed her teeth and is in bed in her pajamas, to read the cards that her dad gave her. She opens his first, and inside is a lovely if typical 'I'm so proud of you,' sentiment.
Rachel spends a moment looking at the other card, the envelope inscribed with her name in her daddy's precise, compact script. She takes a deep breath that she holds in when she slips her fingernail beneath the seal on the envelope, releasing it slowly when she slides out the heavy, creamy white card.
Rachel, she reads, and just the sight of his handwriting brings tears to her eyes. So many things you've done in your life have made me so incredibly proud of you, so proud to be your father. As much as I wish I could be there for your college graduation, I don't know that I could be any more proud of you than I already am. I love you, Daddy
It's just like her daddy, short and to the point and not particularly sentimental. She reads it twice, silent tears slipping down her cheeks, then tucks it back into the envelope and into the back of her quotations journal before turning out the light.
*
Puck's mom is the only person in his entire family who has ever gotten a degree, and she did that when they were growing up, after his dad left and she was trying anything she could to make sure that the three of them stayed afloat. She'd gotten her CNA in high school, and that was supposed to be enough; it was, he figures, until she realized what a deadbeat his dad was and how much she fucked up, getting knocked up and married the summer after graduation.
Anyhow, Puck is the first person born with the last name Puckerman to graduate from college, and since he wasn't always so sure that was going to happen (like when Quinn was pregnant and he was trying to convince her to keep it, or when he did that stint in juvie), it feels like a big fucking deal. His mom and his Nana Helen both agree, and they're all fired up about sending out announcements and coming to graduation.
As far as all that shit goes, Puck just hopes that he has some distant relatives who have more money than he realizes who want to reward him for doing something with his life. Santana's been pulling envelopes of money out of the mailbox just about every day for the last two weeks.
By some crazy stroke of luck, all four of their programs are graduating at the same ceremony, so Puck sits between Sam and Santana, with Finn on her other side, and they spend the bulk of the ceremony passing Santana's program back and forth, writing notes with a pen that Sam produced from his pocket just like they all used to - in one combination or another - in classes in high school, including during glee rehearsals when Schue or Rachel really got on the soapbox about something.
Graduation ceremonies are held in the arena, but Puck still hears his mom exclaim, "That's my boy!" when they read his name. He's grinning when he walks across the stage to get his diploma (diploma holder, actually), and he doesn't stop even when his mom presses a messy kiss to his cheek and insists on posing the four of them for endless photos. Actually, between their four families - who, of course, have gotten together for this - they spend nearly an hour taking photos.
Carole insists that they all go to dinner together, even though there are like twenty of them. It's a huge clusterfuck and basically the most fun Puck's had in Ohio in the last year. Stevie Evans obviously has his eye on Abby, who is at least not being a bitch to the kid about it, and all four moms start telling baby stories.
He and Santana throw a huge ass party at their house that night, even though they're working on packing the place up and the majority of Puck's shit, including the kitchen table and the couch, is loaded into the shipping pod that's sitting in the driveway. (He found his apartment in New York online, which might end up biting him in the ass, but whatever. The building is rent-controlled and it was a now-or-never sort of thing. It's the only way he's actually going to be able to afford to live in Manhattan in a half-decent neighborhood on his salary. He's willing to take the chance.)
Sometime after two, Santana leaves with Finn, so Puck kicks everybody else out of the house except for Sam, who's sleeping in Santana's bed. (She'll be pissed, but right now, Puck's drunk, and he doesn't give a fuck about tomorrow.) He does a walk through of the house, to make sure that nothing's going to burn or die or cause any other major damage before morning, then shuts himself in his room to call Rachel. She texted him this morning, before her own ceremony started (it's weird that they graduated on the same day, he thinks), and made him promise to call her when he got a chance. They don't make promises to each other as a rule, so he likes to make sure he keeps them when he does.
"Two weeks," she says when she answers, instead of hello. "You'll be here in two weeks."
Puck grins, flopping back onto his bed. The room spins, so he sets his foot on the floor to stop it. "Yeah, baby. Two weeks."
*
The end of school leaves an enormous vacuum in Rachel's life. Without classes and rehearsals and voice lessons and studying, she really doesn't know what to do with herself. She also doesn't want to commit herself to a bunch of things only to get a role and have spread herself too thin. Right now, she's just biding her time, waiting for someone to want her for something more than a part in a chorus. She knows she can only hold out for so long though; she can't make roles appear out of the ether, and being unwilling to take what she can get doesn't change that. Still, she can wait a bit, and she's sure that she can find things to occupy herself in the meantime.
The very first thing she does is make a list of all the things that she's been letting slide for the last six months, too caught up in school and everything else to worry about. Then, she starts working through that list. She rotates her wardrobe, putting away winter things and pulling out sundresses; she cleans the refrigerator, taking everything out and scrubbing out the shelves and crisper drawers with bleach water; she positively attacks her bathroom, bleaching the grout between the tiles before sorting through the entire contents of the medicine cabinet; she dusts and mops and scrubs and purges, and it feels wonderfully cathartic.
It takes just a day and a half.
It's one of the few times in her life when she wishes that she wasn't so tidy, because if she was a true slob, she could have spent a day and a half on the kitchen alone. As it stands, she has to find something new to occupy her time.
She spends a day in Brooklyn, meaning to explore a new neighborhood but getting swept away in a used bookstore. It's perfect, filled with everything from novels to biographies to sheet music, and she gets a little carried away, buying both things to read and things she thinks she might be able to deconstruct for craft projects. Then, of course, she has to lug her huge, heavy bag all the way back to Manhattan and it feels a little less perfect.
She spends a day in Battery Park, reading and people watching, and another browsing at the Guggenheim (because she hasn't been in the two years since she moved here) before doing a bit of Fifth Avenue window shopping.
She needs something to do.
What's more, she knows that she needs to find something to occupy her time before Noah gets to the city, or she's going to end up smothering him. She knows herself, and she knows him pretty well, too, and the last thing their relationship, such as it is, needs is her being clingy and obsessive. It won't last.
She's more than a little hopeful when she sees Lorelai's message on her phone when she leaves the yoga class she's started going to a few days a week in an effort to keep herself relaxed and centered.
"Hear me out," Lorelai says when Rachel announces herself, which takes down her hopefulness a notch. "I found a part that I think will be good for you, but it isn't exactly what you want."
Rachel glances both ways, then cuts across the street in the middle of the block. "What is it?"
"It's a chorus part in Sunset Boulevard." No, it isn't exactly what Rachel wants. It's actually exactly what she doesn't want, but Lorelai obviously isn't finished, so she keeps her mouth shut. "You know the show, right?"
Of course. "Of course."
"I represent the girl playing Betty. She just got married, and she's trying to get pregnant, which means she could be leaving the show. I'd be surprised if she's there at the end of summer," Lorelai says candidly. "This director is known for pulling actors out of the chorus and putting them in larger roles, and you could be perfect as Betty."
"So it would be like paying my dues," Rachel says.
"Something like that. Listen, there isn't anyone in that chorus as talented as you. If you go in there and show them who you are and what you've got, there's no way they won't offer you the part when Jessica gets knocked up. Her understudy is a twit."
Rachel has to suppress her laugh. She isn't entirely sure that Lorelai is right; it can take a long time to get pregnant, and even if the girl does leave the show, there's always the chance that Lorelai's wrong about the rest of the chorus, or that the director could find someone from outside the show to bring in, and then what was the point? Well, contacts in the industry, certainly, and a credit to her name, and experience in a real Broadway show. That was part of the reason Rachel went to school at all, to make the necessary contacts so that her first job would be on Broadway instead of off-off-Broadway in a production of The Fantasticks.
And just like that, she's talked herself into saying yes.
Puck's standing in his bedroom in Lima when Rachel calls him, sorting through the stuff in his closet and boxing up the things he wants to take with him when he moves. "Did you get the part?" he asks instead of answering. She told him all about the part that could lead to a part, and he knows that she was supposed to hear about it today.
"I am officially a member of the chorus of the Broadway revival of Sunset Boulevard," she confirms, speaking very precisely.
He sits on the edge of his bed, grinning. "That's awesome, baby."
"It really is, isn't it?" There's the excited girl he was expecting.
"When's your first show?"
Rachel glances at the papers strewn across her coffee table, sheet music and stage notes and the script. "A week from Tuesday."
"So I'll be able to go."
"No," she says quickly. She doesn't want him to sit through the show to watch her in the chorus. She wants him to wait until her performance is really worth watching. "Not until I'm Betty," she insists, pleading a little. It's important.
"All right," he agrees. He gets it, why she doesn't want him there before she's playing the part she really wants; it's the control freak coming out, and more. So he'll agree to stay away, then buy his own ticket and see it without telling her.
It wouldn't be the first time.
*
Finn and Sam drive with him from Columbus to New York so Puck doesn't have to hire movers to get his shit into his apartment. Neither of the guys have been to the city since high school, but neither of them has time to hang out; they both have work at part-time jobs on Monday, so they're literally driving out and then turning around to head home the same day. Puck thinks that sounds like a terrible idea, but they've both insisted that they can make the drive and that they'll stop at a hotel if they need to. Honestly, if they think they'll be fine, Puck isn't going to worry about it; Rachel's doing that enough for all three of them.
It only takes a couple of hours to get his shit moved into his new place, another hour to annihilate a couple of pizzas while they work together to get the entertainment center hooked up, and then they're gone.
That part kind of sucks.
Finn has always lived just a few minutes away, and it's going to be weird not to have his boy always on call, so to speak. They've always been there for each other whenever they needed it, and it's going to be weird not to be able to hang out whenever, to have a drink just because or whatever. As long as Mike's in Europe or Asia or wherever the hell being Michael Jackson, Puck doesn't have a bro in the city, which is a new thing, too. Right now, New York is all Rachel, and even though he's always made friends easily and he knows that hasn't changed, it is nice to know that she's there.
He realizes how alone she was when she first came here. He knew, of course, but things were still weird between them when she first moved. Everyone that she knew in the city was someone she was in competition with up until she found Mike again. He doesn't know how she didn't go crazy like that.
He does, actually. It's because Rachel's always been stronger than anyone gives her credit for, especially when it comes to being on her own and taking care of herself. That girl could handle anything you threw at her, and she'd make it look good when she did it.
He's trimming shelf liner to fit in the kitchen when she buzzes up, which makes him add 'get keys for Rachel' to his mental list of shit to do before he starts work on Wednesday. He's had keys to her place since they were both in Columbus; it's probably time that he reciprocate.
Rachel wraps her arms around him as soon as he opens the door, pressing her cheek to his chest and inhaling the scent of his skin, clean from the shower he must have taken after Finn and Sam left. "Hi."
Noah doesn't say anything, just slips his hand into her hair and tugs a little until she tips her head back and lets him kiss her gently. She loves the way he does that, moving her just the way he like with his fingers massaging her scalp, not quite pulling her hair. He kicks the door shut, and she giggles when he pushes her against it, his hand fumbling for the deadbolt. "Noah."
"Shh." He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and starts walking backwards to his bedroom. "Missed you," he mumbles, his lips skating up her jaw.
"Noah, you have to show me your place," she protests, even as he turns them around in his bedroom and pushes her to sit at the edge of his bed.
He slips his hands beneath the hem of her blouse and tugs it up over her head, pushing her hair back out of her face after he's dropped the shirt on the floor. "Later."
Rachel stops arguing when he pulls his own shirt off before peeling her jeans down her legs, moaning when he moves her to the middle of the bed and lays on top of her. It feels so good to be with him like this, especially knowing that he isn't going to be leaving any time soon.
"Show me your place," she insists after she's caught her breath, pulling his tee shirt over her head. Puck watches her crawl out of the bed (and yes, of course he put his bed together and put sheets on it first thing; he knew she was coming) and slip on her panties, hot pink with white polka dots. He kind of loves the way that they look under his Disturbed tee shirt, so he forces himself up and into his boxers to walk her through the apartment.
Noah's apartment is bigger than hers, and a bit nicer, with crown moldings and hardwood floors that were clearly refinished more recently than her own. Of course, given that he already has a job with a salary and she moved into hers as a college student, it makes sense, even if she is a bit jealous.
It occurs to her for the first time, standing in his breakfast nook in her bare feet and looking down at the street, that they're each pursuing careers that could make them substantial amounts of money. She knows what she has with her talent, and she's seen digital models of the some of the houses that Noah has designed, and it's clear to her that he has a gift for what he does. Sure, he has a few more years of school, and it takes time to build a reputation, and she hasn't gotten her big break yet, but the potential is there for each of them.
She suddenly feels very, very grown up.
*
Puck does go see the show on Rachel's first night, though he doesn't tell her.
She looks like she belongs on stage, and maybe it's just him, but he's pretty sure that she outshines everyone else up there.
*
Lorelai calls Rachel to invite her to a cocktail event. "It's an opportunity to make some new connections," she says, "but I think you'll have fun. Dress up, bring your boyfriend."
Honestly, Rachel likes the idea of dressing up and going out, even if the party is on the one night a week that she and Noah are able to spent a substantial amount of time together. They can sacrifice one night alone for a night together with other people, especially if it could help Rachel make some new contacts.
Rachel's standing in her bedroom when Puck gets to her apartment to meet her for this cocktail thing, and as soon as he sees her, all of his annoyance at having to go home from work to shower and put on a suit and tie (when eh just took off a tie) melts away. She's wearing a fitted white dress, to the knee with little cap sleeves and a scoop neck, barefoot in front of the mirror and fastening a necklace. She isn't showing a ton of it, but her skin looks amazing against the white of the dress, tanned and smooth, and her hair is in these loose waves that he wants to run his fingers through and wreck.
She looks fucking amazing.
Her cheeks blush a pretty pink when he tells her. "Help me?" she asks quietly, holding out a delicate little gold bracelet that he knows full well she can fasten onto her own wrist.
They've never been to an event like this together - not that Rachel has been to too many of these events herself - and she's a little anxious about it. She knows that he knows how to behave appropriately in social situations, but being appropriate and being comfortable are two different things.
As it turns out, she didn't need to worry about him at all.
Puck like watching her charm the hell out of people. Fuck, that's probably part of why he started watching her in the first place all those years ago, and he thinks it's going to be the thing that gets the right person to notice her at the right time. Maybe right now, this arty looking woman she's talking to, smiling and gesturing with the hand that isn't holding her gin and tonic.
Rachel has to make an effort to keep her inner fan girl in check when Lorelai introduces her to Sutton Foster. She's far from the best voice on Broadway for Rachel's money, but she originated the role of Millie in Thoroughly Modern Millie, and as such, Rachel has studied the nuances of her performance carefully. It's the standout moment of the evening for her, even though she's met a handful of producers and a director who mentioned having seen Rachel on YouTube in a short film that she helped one of Mike's friends with back when she first moved to the city, something she quite forgot about.
Her stomach is growling by the time they leave, and her feet ache from standing in heels that look fantastic but were really made for sitting. "Are you starving too?" she asks as soon as they're in a cab on their way back to his apartment. If she's hungry, he has to be.
"Oh, my God, yes."
"I'd cut a bitch for some pizza," she states conversationally, grinning when he cracks up. She nursed the same drink all night, so he knows she isn't drunk, but he loves her like this, all relaxed and a little silly.
It isn't until they get back to his place, when they're sitting in the living room eating pizza straight from their respective boxes (dating a vegan means ordering separate everything, but whatever) that it all crystallizes. She's wearing one of of his white v-neck tee shirts that she stole out of the laundry basket with her pale pink lace panties, giggling around a mouthful of pizza at the story he just told about something stupid one of the secretaries at work did, the kind of shit that he thought only happened on The Office. Her face is bare, washed clean of makeup when they were waiting for the pizza delivery, and her hair is in a ponytail.
She's fucking beautiful, and he thinks she's even more beautiful like this, all relaxed and easy, than she is when she's all dolled up.
"I love you," he says, watching her take a bite of her crust. She blinks. "I just...fuck, Rach, I really do."
Rachel finishes chewing her bite and swallows, setting the rest of her crust in the lid of the pizza box. She doesn't know exactly when she fell in love with Noah, though it's begun to feel like she's been in love with him forever. He's just been there for her like no one else in her entire life, and she can't do anything but love him for that.
"I love you, too," she says after a moment, almost whispering. "So much."
It feels amazing to say the words aloud again and know that he feels the same way.
It's even better the next time, when he's inside her and she murmurs it against his lips, her hair making a curtain around their faces as she moves over him.
*
Puck's title at Helmsley and Monroe is 'junior associate,' which he very quickly learns puts him just a step above the unpaid intern that he was last summer. At first, a lot of what he's doing is bullshit paper pushing and busy work. Just a few years ago, he would have said fuck it and blown it all off, but he's grown up, and he gets that he needs to pay his dues if he wants to get anywhere. Plus, keeping these guys happy is what's going to ensure that he gets his school paid for; if that means kissing ass and doing bullshit for a couple of years, that's what he'll do.
He and Rachel fall into a routine pretty easily, even though their schedules aren't the most compatible. Puck's at work by nine every morning, and she doesn't get out of the theater until nearly eleven each night. They don't live together, but they still sleep in the same bed most nights, sort of alternating between their apartments. Puck stays up until she gets home, and she gets up before he leaves each morning. No, he doesn't really see enough of her, but it is what it is, and they're making it work.
About the middle of August, one of the junior partners taps Puck to work on a project, remodeling a massive house for some movie producer out in Connecticut. It's the same junior partner who took an interest in Puck last summer, which he thinks means he must be doing something right.
"That's amazing," Rachel says when he tells her the news. She knows how big this is for him, and she can sense the change in his demeanor almost immediately, the difference between going to work each day and going through the motions and going to work each day and doing what makes you happy.
She knows exactly what going through the motions looks like, because she's doing it herself.
Rachel thinks that the only person more eager for Jessica to get pregnant than Jessica herself is Rachel, and she's considering the woman's very enthusiastic husband. At first, being a part of the chorus was lovely. She was honored just to be a part of the show, and it afforded her an opportunity to watch the other actors, to learn the other parts, even the ones that she couldn't dream of playing for another twenty years.
It's still a rush, being on stage eight times a week, but it's less, somehow, when she knows that no one is looking at her, no one is listening to her. Maybe it's selfish, but Rachel still firmly believes that she's meant to be a star. She can be a part of a group, but she's a leader, not a follower, and it's hard to lead from the back of the stage.
She's still giving it everything she has, and she knows that the director has been impressed with her; he told her so. That doesn't matter though, not while Jessica is still around, not to mention her understudy. (Admittedly, the understudy is a flake and could easily be passed over for the role if Jessica left. Still.)
Noah meets her outside the theater after her last Sunday show on Labor Day weekend. Both of the day's shows were sold out, but Rachel doesn't feel the same exhilaration about that as she did even when she was performing with New Directions at a show choir competition in middle-of-nowhere, Ohio. This is Broadway, and she feels nothing.
He drapes his arm over her shoulder, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "How'd it go?" he asks, his standard question when he sees her after a show. She thinks it's endearing.
Her answer is a noncommital, "Fine," which Puck hates. She doesn't talk about it much, but he knows that she's feeling dejected about the show. He gets it, sort of, because he knows her and how she is, but he thinks that she needs to chill a little. It can't happen all at once, and she's only been out of school for three months.
"I have a bottle of that red wine that you like," he tells her instead of saying anything else about the show. "I don't have to work tomorrow, so I think we should get drunk and fuck all night."
"Noah!" she hisses, looking around fervently to see if anyone else on the street overheard his vulgarity, but she can't help the laughter that bubbles up.
He just shakes his head. "Tell me that doesn't sound fucking amazing."
"Well, of course it does," she concedes, biting her lip when he smirks down at her.
Chapter: 16/17
Rating: R
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Word Count: 7,700
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.
Rachel insists on getting out of bed on Sunday morning because, despite what she thought earlier this week, she has far too much energy to lie around and do nothing, even if it isn't doing nothing with Noah in her bed. It's nervous energy, anxiety; it's making her a little crazy to think about the decision that Noah's making, knowing that there's quite a good chance that he'll be in the city with her by June, but there's just as good a chance that he'll be even further away in Austin than he already is back home.
They go to a Jewish deli a few blocks from her apartment that she found and likes because they not only have good coffee, but because the people behind the counter have never looked at her like she's crazy when she asks for soy milk for that coffee, a regular occurrence at other establishments throughout the city. (Honestly, soy milk is not a strange request.) Noah manages to get them a table near the door when another couple leaves, and he grins when Rachel crosses her legs and hooks one foot behind his calf beneath the table. She just wants to be touching him.
Puck knows that Rachel won't kiss him until he's brushed his teeth, but he really likes everything bagels with scallion cream cheese, and his first bite of this one proves that it's worth it. It's the best bagel he's ever eaten, and he put some effort into finding kick ass bagels last summer.
He knows that Rachel likes people-watching in places like this, where there are two kinds of customers: the ones who are in and out in just a few minutes and the ones who take their time and linger. It's one of her little habits that he's picked up over the years (not unlike the way that he yells things at sportscasters on TV exactly like Santana sometimes), and he finds himself gazing over her shoulder as she eats her fruit salad, watching a couple sitting there on the other side of the door, a guy and a girl just a few years older than Puck and Rachel are. They're totally wrapped up in each other, talking over the remains of their breakfast. The girl's telling a story, her face animated and her hands moving as she talks, and then the guy's laughing, shaking his head and taking her hand in his on top of the table. Puck recognizes the way he's looking at his girl, like she's half-crazy but he's totally nuts about her anyway, because Puck knows that he looks at Rachel like that at least once a day when they're actually in the same place at the same time.
Rachel nearly chokes on a raspberry when Noah looks at her and says, "I'm moving to New York," without preamble.
She finds that she doesn't care what his reason is, nor does she care about the horrible cream cheese that's lingering on his lips when she leans across the table to kiss him.
Later, when they're lying together in bed, Rachel has to stop herself from asking what it means for them that Noah is moving to the city. A million things could happen in the few months between now and then, and if there's anything that Rachel has learned in the past few years about life and having expectations for it, it's that things can change more quickly than you can keep up with.
She doesn't have time to worry about it. She has a musical to perfect and classes to get through and a recital at which she needs to perform more flawlessly than she ever has to get her name out there into the theater community. She doesn't have the time or energy to devote to worrying about things that could be happening in her personal life after graduation.
*
There's a moment on opening night, when she's singing with Charlotte and tap dancing across the stage, when Rachel feels the absolute perfection of being exactly where she's supposed to be. She's done shows since she came to New York, obviously, but she hasn't felt this certainty since New Directions' performance at Nationals senior year, side by side with her best friends, knowing that they were flawless together.
This though...it feels like she's just a hair's breadth from everything she's ever wanted. This is the last step, and maybe the most important.
It's everything.
Her father meets her backstage after the show, carrying a bouquet of pink tulips and looking at her like he's never seen her before.
"What?" she finally asks.
"You were perfect," he tells her quietly. "I always knew that you were good, but..." he trails off, shaking his head. "My God, Rachel, you're amazing. Your daddy would be so proud."
The tears start slipping down her cheeks almost immediately, and there isn't anything she can do to stop them. Part of becoming a star was always about making her fathers proud, about fulfilling her own dream and showing them that everything they sacrificed for her to pursue the stage was worth it. She doesn't say anything, just wraps her arms around her dad and hugs him tight, burying her face against his chest like a little girl.
Puck can't afford to just up and run to New York to see Rachel sing, financially or academically, but he calls in a favor to Mike (who tells him he's in Switzerland when he emails him back), who calls in a favor to one of his friends in the city, who gets into the theater (Puck doesn't care how) to record the show for him.
He should really be sleeping (he has to be at his internship at eight tomorrow morning), but when Puck gets the email just before eleven, he spends the next couple of hours sitting up in bed, watching Rachel be fucking amazing.
The whole thing kind of makes him feel like a pussy, so he keeps it to himself, just like he never told her that he snuck into the theater and watched rehearsal back in April. He doesn't tell Finn or Santana, and he sure as hell isn't going to tell Rachel. He knows that she'll get recordings of part of the performance that she'll keep to send to agents or directors or whoever, which means that she'll send him a copy that he can gush over without telling her about all the trouble that he went to.
As annoying as it was sometimes, listening to her talk about Broadway and her career and being a star, Puck doesn't know how she won't be exactly that. She's made him sit through a couple of YouTube videos of the chick who originated this role on Broadway, and Rachel is at least as good as she was. (He'd say she's better, but he knows he's biased.) It's all just a matter of time.
*
The day after the last performance of Thoroughly Modern Millie, Rachel gets a call from Lorelai Warner, the agent that she met at the wrap party for Kiss Me, Kate, the one who called her magnetic. Lorelai wants to represent Rachel, which has her jumping up and down even though she manages to keep her voice even and professional when she tells the woman that she's waiting to choose representation until after graduation, but she'll absolutely put Lorelai's name on the list. Graduation is just two weeks away, so asking for that time isn't unreasonable, and the woman agrees easily.
Lorelai Warner ends up being just the first name on a list of agents who think they can make Rachel Berry a star.
It's a heady feeling, a sense of validation for her talent after all this time, and she revels in it even as she feels anxious about making the right decision.
"Choose the one who represents the most famous people," Santana suggests when Rachel mentions it on the phone one night. It's utterly unhelpful, because the level of fame of someone's clients may or may not be related to their influence. Some people just are stars, no matter who's working on their behalf.
"You should be working with the person who is best able to get you to where you want to be, angelfish," Dad offers, which, again, helps her not at all. Of course she should, but the issue is choosing which person is that person. If it was that easy to tell, there wouldn't be anything more to it than telling that 'best' person that she wants to hire them.
"You know what I'd do?" Noah says when she talks to him about it. "I'd choose the one who's not a bastard. Or the one who's the least bastardly."
"That isn't a word," Rachel tells him, but she's smiling. She knows that really is how Noah would make such a decision; he'd choose the person that he liked best, regardless of credentials or clientele. And maybe he has a point; once all of the on-paper attributes are considered, maybe her gut instinct is the way to choose the person she wants to work with.
There's a reception after the senior recital that's designed to help students make exactly these sorts of connections, and Rachel uses the party as an opportunity to talk to as many people as she can, trying to gauge personalities and everything else, trying to find the person that her intellect and her intuition agree is the best choice. She's already done all the research she can do, reading online and talking to some of her professors, so now it's really about putting it all together and deciding.
She pulls a tiny notepad and a pen from her purse on the bus ride home, scrawling notes about each of the people she spoke with, and by the time she gets to her stop, she's narrowed the pool to three people: Lorelai, a gentleman named Patrick who just had a client pulled from the chorus of her show to replace the lead when she left, and a woman named Deborah who has been doing the job for years and has an incredibly impressive contact list.
She should probably sleep on a decision like this, the first big one of her career, but she's too energized and impatient to do that. Instead, she's up till nearly three, typing out her comments so she can really synthesize all of the information, even though she has to be up early to go to the airport and meet her father, who's flying in for graduation. The tipping point is the fact that Lorelai was the first person who approached her, way back in December, and used the word "magnetic" to describe Rachel's performance. Maybe it's a superficial reason to make such an important decision, but it feels right.
It should be hard to get out of bed at seven the next morning, but it isn't at all, and she doesn't even bother making a pot of coffee or stopping at the deli before heading to the airport to meet her dad. She doesn't need the caffeine, not when she feels like things are finally - finally - going the way they're supposed to in her life. She has plenty of natural energy.
She tells her father about her decision to hire Lorelai when they're in a cab on their way back into Manhattan to check into his hotel. He's told her over and over that it's her decision, but until she gets a role and starts making real money of her own, it's an expense that's going to be paid out of her nearly-empty college fund. (Two years at OSU combined with academic and music scholarships have helped to make it last a bit longer than they'd originally expected, but she can only rely on it for a very short while longer.) She explains her reasoning and is relieved to see that he's smiling as she finishes.
"That sounds very sensible," he says when she pauses. "She sounds like a fan of yours."
"Wouldn't she have to be, to want to represent me this way?"
"No," he says flatly. "She has to think that you're going to be successful and make her money, but she doesn't have to like you or what you do."
He has a point, she supposes, not that she likes it. She prefers to think of Lorelai as an ally, someone who would celebrate Rachel's success for what it is instead of just as a payday for herself. It's a bit delusional, perhaps, but Rachel's going to pretend that it's what she believes, keeping it to herself.
Commencement ceremonies are uneventful and far less personal than they felt in high school. Rachel wants to sit with Christina, but the girl's program is graduating at the 1:30 ceremony and Rachel's is at ten a.m., so she doesn't make any effort to sit with anyone particular. On her left is a boy with red hair and an awkward smile getting his degree in chemistry, and on her right is a girl wearing a Cartier trinity ring who can't be bothered to look away from her iPhone for long enough to let Rachel ask her what she's getting her degree in. (She finds out that the girl is getting her Bachelor of Arts in Psychology, which somehow makes sense.)
She poses for pictures in her cap and gown with her father, snapped by a perfectly lovely woman who is also a complete stranger, then peels off the uncomfortable and unflattering black polyester.
They go to a more extravagent restaurant than they normally would for lunch, one that Rachel has seen mentioned on some of the websites she's used to find some of her favorite places since she came to the city. Dad orders a bottle of champagne before she can stop him, despite the fact that it's just barely noon. "We're celebrating," he insists when she points out the time. "Your graduation, your recital, your musical, your new representation - we're celebrating all of it."
She can't deny that she likes celebrations, especially when they're for her, and it is quite a good time for one.
They're waiting for dessert (it's a celebration) when Dad reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out two envelopes and a little white jewelry box tied with a yellow ribbon. She takes them with a smile, nodding when he tells her to open the box first. Inside, she finds a pair of diamond stud earrings, martini-set in gold. "They're perfect," she breathes out, swallowing tears, because they are. She's always wanted diamond earrings, but Daddy thought that they were too extravagant for a teenager. He'd been telling her for years that he'd buy her diamonds when she graduated from college.
Dad is sitting across the table from her with tears in his eyes that match her own. As much as this is a gift from him, this is a gift from her Daddy, too. She knows that was the intention.
"The cards," he says when she finally looks up at him. "One is from your daddy." Rachel feels her jaw go slack. "He wrote it for you."
"I'm going to save them for later, then," she says when she feels like she can speak without a sob escaping from her throat.
They go to a matinee of a show, then to a quick dinner, and then he's leaving again, too soon, flying back to Ohio and work and all the things she left behind. She feels selfish, but she wishes that he was able to stay for more than two days at a time when he does come. She isn't lonely, exactly, in the city, but sometimes she does feel painfully alone, though they aren't the same thing.
She hopes that changes when Noah moves to the city. It's only a matter of weeks now.
She waits until later that night, when she's washed her face and brushed her teeth and is in bed in her pajamas, to read the cards that her dad gave her. She opens his first, and inside is a lovely if typical 'I'm so proud of you,' sentiment.
Rachel spends a moment looking at the other card, the envelope inscribed with her name in her daddy's precise, compact script. She takes a deep breath that she holds in when she slips her fingernail beneath the seal on the envelope, releasing it slowly when she slides out the heavy, creamy white card.
Rachel, she reads, and just the sight of his handwriting brings tears to her eyes. So many things you've done in your life have made me so incredibly proud of you, so proud to be your father. As much as I wish I could be there for your college graduation, I don't know that I could be any more proud of you than I already am. I love you, Daddy
It's just like her daddy, short and to the point and not particularly sentimental. She reads it twice, silent tears slipping down her cheeks, then tucks it back into the envelope and into the back of her quotations journal before turning out the light.
*
Puck's mom is the only person in his entire family who has ever gotten a degree, and she did that when they were growing up, after his dad left and she was trying anything she could to make sure that the three of them stayed afloat. She'd gotten her CNA in high school, and that was supposed to be enough; it was, he figures, until she realized what a deadbeat his dad was and how much she fucked up, getting knocked up and married the summer after graduation.
Anyhow, Puck is the first person born with the last name Puckerman to graduate from college, and since he wasn't always so sure that was going to happen (like when Quinn was pregnant and he was trying to convince her to keep it, or when he did that stint in juvie), it feels like a big fucking deal. His mom and his Nana Helen both agree, and they're all fired up about sending out announcements and coming to graduation.
As far as all that shit goes, Puck just hopes that he has some distant relatives who have more money than he realizes who want to reward him for doing something with his life. Santana's been pulling envelopes of money out of the mailbox just about every day for the last two weeks.
By some crazy stroke of luck, all four of their programs are graduating at the same ceremony, so Puck sits between Sam and Santana, with Finn on her other side, and they spend the bulk of the ceremony passing Santana's program back and forth, writing notes with a pen that Sam produced from his pocket just like they all used to - in one combination or another - in classes in high school, including during glee rehearsals when Schue or Rachel really got on the soapbox about something.
Graduation ceremonies are held in the arena, but Puck still hears his mom exclaim, "That's my boy!" when they read his name. He's grinning when he walks across the stage to get his diploma (diploma holder, actually), and he doesn't stop even when his mom presses a messy kiss to his cheek and insists on posing the four of them for endless photos. Actually, between their four families - who, of course, have gotten together for this - they spend nearly an hour taking photos.
Carole insists that they all go to dinner together, even though there are like twenty of them. It's a huge clusterfuck and basically the most fun Puck's had in Ohio in the last year. Stevie Evans obviously has his eye on Abby, who is at least not being a bitch to the kid about it, and all four moms start telling baby stories.
He and Santana throw a huge ass party at their house that night, even though they're working on packing the place up and the majority of Puck's shit, including the kitchen table and the couch, is loaded into the shipping pod that's sitting in the driveway. (He found his apartment in New York online, which might end up biting him in the ass, but whatever. The building is rent-controlled and it was a now-or-never sort of thing. It's the only way he's actually going to be able to afford to live in Manhattan in a half-decent neighborhood on his salary. He's willing to take the chance.)
Sometime after two, Santana leaves with Finn, so Puck kicks everybody else out of the house except for Sam, who's sleeping in Santana's bed. (She'll be pissed, but right now, Puck's drunk, and he doesn't give a fuck about tomorrow.) He does a walk through of the house, to make sure that nothing's going to burn or die or cause any other major damage before morning, then shuts himself in his room to call Rachel. She texted him this morning, before her own ceremony started (it's weird that they graduated on the same day, he thinks), and made him promise to call her when he got a chance. They don't make promises to each other as a rule, so he likes to make sure he keeps them when he does.
"Two weeks," she says when she answers, instead of hello. "You'll be here in two weeks."
Puck grins, flopping back onto his bed. The room spins, so he sets his foot on the floor to stop it. "Yeah, baby. Two weeks."
*
The end of school leaves an enormous vacuum in Rachel's life. Without classes and rehearsals and voice lessons and studying, she really doesn't know what to do with herself. She also doesn't want to commit herself to a bunch of things only to get a role and have spread herself too thin. Right now, she's just biding her time, waiting for someone to want her for something more than a part in a chorus. She knows she can only hold out for so long though; she can't make roles appear out of the ether, and being unwilling to take what she can get doesn't change that. Still, she can wait a bit, and she's sure that she can find things to occupy herself in the meantime.
The very first thing she does is make a list of all the things that she's been letting slide for the last six months, too caught up in school and everything else to worry about. Then, she starts working through that list. She rotates her wardrobe, putting away winter things and pulling out sundresses; she cleans the refrigerator, taking everything out and scrubbing out the shelves and crisper drawers with bleach water; she positively attacks her bathroom, bleaching the grout between the tiles before sorting through the entire contents of the medicine cabinet; she dusts and mops and scrubs and purges, and it feels wonderfully cathartic.
It takes just a day and a half.
It's one of the few times in her life when she wishes that she wasn't so tidy, because if she was a true slob, she could have spent a day and a half on the kitchen alone. As it stands, she has to find something new to occupy her time.
She spends a day in Brooklyn, meaning to explore a new neighborhood but getting swept away in a used bookstore. It's perfect, filled with everything from novels to biographies to sheet music, and she gets a little carried away, buying both things to read and things she thinks she might be able to deconstruct for craft projects. Then, of course, she has to lug her huge, heavy bag all the way back to Manhattan and it feels a little less perfect.
She spends a day in Battery Park, reading and people watching, and another browsing at the Guggenheim (because she hasn't been in the two years since she moved here) before doing a bit of Fifth Avenue window shopping.
She needs something to do.
What's more, she knows that she needs to find something to occupy her time before Noah gets to the city, or she's going to end up smothering him. She knows herself, and she knows him pretty well, too, and the last thing their relationship, such as it is, needs is her being clingy and obsessive. It won't last.
She's more than a little hopeful when she sees Lorelai's message on her phone when she leaves the yoga class she's started going to a few days a week in an effort to keep herself relaxed and centered.
"Hear me out," Lorelai says when Rachel announces herself, which takes down her hopefulness a notch. "I found a part that I think will be good for you, but it isn't exactly what you want."
Rachel glances both ways, then cuts across the street in the middle of the block. "What is it?"
"It's a chorus part in Sunset Boulevard." No, it isn't exactly what Rachel wants. It's actually exactly what she doesn't want, but Lorelai obviously isn't finished, so she keeps her mouth shut. "You know the show, right?"
Of course. "Of course."
"I represent the girl playing Betty. She just got married, and she's trying to get pregnant, which means she could be leaving the show. I'd be surprised if she's there at the end of summer," Lorelai says candidly. "This director is known for pulling actors out of the chorus and putting them in larger roles, and you could be perfect as Betty."
"So it would be like paying my dues," Rachel says.
"Something like that. Listen, there isn't anyone in that chorus as talented as you. If you go in there and show them who you are and what you've got, there's no way they won't offer you the part when Jessica gets knocked up. Her understudy is a twit."
Rachel has to suppress her laugh. She isn't entirely sure that Lorelai is right; it can take a long time to get pregnant, and even if the girl does leave the show, there's always the chance that Lorelai's wrong about the rest of the chorus, or that the director could find someone from outside the show to bring in, and then what was the point? Well, contacts in the industry, certainly, and a credit to her name, and experience in a real Broadway show. That was part of the reason Rachel went to school at all, to make the necessary contacts so that her first job would be on Broadway instead of off-off-Broadway in a production of The Fantasticks.
And just like that, she's talked herself into saying yes.
Puck's standing in his bedroom in Lima when Rachel calls him, sorting through the stuff in his closet and boxing up the things he wants to take with him when he moves. "Did you get the part?" he asks instead of answering. She told him all about the part that could lead to a part, and he knows that she was supposed to hear about it today.
"I am officially a member of the chorus of the Broadway revival of Sunset Boulevard," she confirms, speaking very precisely.
He sits on the edge of his bed, grinning. "That's awesome, baby."
"It really is, isn't it?" There's the excited girl he was expecting.
"When's your first show?"
Rachel glances at the papers strewn across her coffee table, sheet music and stage notes and the script. "A week from Tuesday."
"So I'll be able to go."
"No," she says quickly. She doesn't want him to sit through the show to watch her in the chorus. She wants him to wait until her performance is really worth watching. "Not until I'm Betty," she insists, pleading a little. It's important.
"All right," he agrees. He gets it, why she doesn't want him there before she's playing the part she really wants; it's the control freak coming out, and more. So he'll agree to stay away, then buy his own ticket and see it without telling her.
It wouldn't be the first time.
*
Finn and Sam drive with him from Columbus to New York so Puck doesn't have to hire movers to get his shit into his apartment. Neither of the guys have been to the city since high school, but neither of them has time to hang out; they both have work at part-time jobs on Monday, so they're literally driving out and then turning around to head home the same day. Puck thinks that sounds like a terrible idea, but they've both insisted that they can make the drive and that they'll stop at a hotel if they need to. Honestly, if they think they'll be fine, Puck isn't going to worry about it; Rachel's doing that enough for all three of them.
It only takes a couple of hours to get his shit moved into his new place, another hour to annihilate a couple of pizzas while they work together to get the entertainment center hooked up, and then they're gone.
That part kind of sucks.
Finn has always lived just a few minutes away, and it's going to be weird not to have his boy always on call, so to speak. They've always been there for each other whenever they needed it, and it's going to be weird not to be able to hang out whenever, to have a drink just because or whatever. As long as Mike's in Europe or Asia or wherever the hell being Michael Jackson, Puck doesn't have a bro in the city, which is a new thing, too. Right now, New York is all Rachel, and even though he's always made friends easily and he knows that hasn't changed, it is nice to know that she's there.
He realizes how alone she was when she first came here. He knew, of course, but things were still weird between them when she first moved. Everyone that she knew in the city was someone she was in competition with up until she found Mike again. He doesn't know how she didn't go crazy like that.
He does, actually. It's because Rachel's always been stronger than anyone gives her credit for, especially when it comes to being on her own and taking care of herself. That girl could handle anything you threw at her, and she'd make it look good when she did it.
He's trimming shelf liner to fit in the kitchen when she buzzes up, which makes him add 'get keys for Rachel' to his mental list of shit to do before he starts work on Wednesday. He's had keys to her place since they were both in Columbus; it's probably time that he reciprocate.
Rachel wraps her arms around him as soon as he opens the door, pressing her cheek to his chest and inhaling the scent of his skin, clean from the shower he must have taken after Finn and Sam left. "Hi."
Noah doesn't say anything, just slips his hand into her hair and tugs a little until she tips her head back and lets him kiss her gently. She loves the way he does that, moving her just the way he like with his fingers massaging her scalp, not quite pulling her hair. He kicks the door shut, and she giggles when he pushes her against it, his hand fumbling for the deadbolt. "Noah."
"Shh." He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and starts walking backwards to his bedroom. "Missed you," he mumbles, his lips skating up her jaw.
"Noah, you have to show me your place," she protests, even as he turns them around in his bedroom and pushes her to sit at the edge of his bed.
He slips his hands beneath the hem of her blouse and tugs it up over her head, pushing her hair back out of her face after he's dropped the shirt on the floor. "Later."
Rachel stops arguing when he pulls his own shirt off before peeling her jeans down her legs, moaning when he moves her to the middle of the bed and lays on top of her. It feels so good to be with him like this, especially knowing that he isn't going to be leaving any time soon.
"Show me your place," she insists after she's caught her breath, pulling his tee shirt over her head. Puck watches her crawl out of the bed (and yes, of course he put his bed together and put sheets on it first thing; he knew she was coming) and slip on her panties, hot pink with white polka dots. He kind of loves the way that they look under his Disturbed tee shirt, so he forces himself up and into his boxers to walk her through the apartment.
Noah's apartment is bigger than hers, and a bit nicer, with crown moldings and hardwood floors that were clearly refinished more recently than her own. Of course, given that he already has a job with a salary and she moved into hers as a college student, it makes sense, even if she is a bit jealous.
It occurs to her for the first time, standing in his breakfast nook in her bare feet and looking down at the street, that they're each pursuing careers that could make them substantial amounts of money. She knows what she has with her talent, and she's seen digital models of the some of the houses that Noah has designed, and it's clear to her that he has a gift for what he does. Sure, he has a few more years of school, and it takes time to build a reputation, and she hasn't gotten her big break yet, but the potential is there for each of them.
She suddenly feels very, very grown up.
*
Puck does go see the show on Rachel's first night, though he doesn't tell her.
She looks like she belongs on stage, and maybe it's just him, but he's pretty sure that she outshines everyone else up there.
*
Lorelai calls Rachel to invite her to a cocktail event. "It's an opportunity to make some new connections," she says, "but I think you'll have fun. Dress up, bring your boyfriend."
Honestly, Rachel likes the idea of dressing up and going out, even if the party is on the one night a week that she and Noah are able to spent a substantial amount of time together. They can sacrifice one night alone for a night together with other people, especially if it could help Rachel make some new contacts.
Rachel's standing in her bedroom when Puck gets to her apartment to meet her for this cocktail thing, and as soon as he sees her, all of his annoyance at having to go home from work to shower and put on a suit and tie (when eh just took off a tie) melts away. She's wearing a fitted white dress, to the knee with little cap sleeves and a scoop neck, barefoot in front of the mirror and fastening a necklace. She isn't showing a ton of it, but her skin looks amazing against the white of the dress, tanned and smooth, and her hair is in these loose waves that he wants to run his fingers through and wreck.
She looks fucking amazing.
Her cheeks blush a pretty pink when he tells her. "Help me?" she asks quietly, holding out a delicate little gold bracelet that he knows full well she can fasten onto her own wrist.
They've never been to an event like this together - not that Rachel has been to too many of these events herself - and she's a little anxious about it. She knows that he knows how to behave appropriately in social situations, but being appropriate and being comfortable are two different things.
As it turns out, she didn't need to worry about him at all.
Puck like watching her charm the hell out of people. Fuck, that's probably part of why he started watching her in the first place all those years ago, and he thinks it's going to be the thing that gets the right person to notice her at the right time. Maybe right now, this arty looking woman she's talking to, smiling and gesturing with the hand that isn't holding her gin and tonic.
Rachel has to make an effort to keep her inner fan girl in check when Lorelai introduces her to Sutton Foster. She's far from the best voice on Broadway for Rachel's money, but she originated the role of Millie in Thoroughly Modern Millie, and as such, Rachel has studied the nuances of her performance carefully. It's the standout moment of the evening for her, even though she's met a handful of producers and a director who mentioned having seen Rachel on YouTube in a short film that she helped one of Mike's friends with back when she first moved to the city, something she quite forgot about.
Her stomach is growling by the time they leave, and her feet ache from standing in heels that look fantastic but were really made for sitting. "Are you starving too?" she asks as soon as they're in a cab on their way back to his apartment. If she's hungry, he has to be.
"Oh, my God, yes."
"I'd cut a bitch for some pizza," she states conversationally, grinning when he cracks up. She nursed the same drink all night, so he knows she isn't drunk, but he loves her like this, all relaxed and a little silly.
It isn't until they get back to his place, when they're sitting in the living room eating pizza straight from their respective boxes (dating a vegan means ordering separate everything, but whatever) that it all crystallizes. She's wearing one of of his white v-neck tee shirts that she stole out of the laundry basket with her pale pink lace panties, giggling around a mouthful of pizza at the story he just told about something stupid one of the secretaries at work did, the kind of shit that he thought only happened on The Office. Her face is bare, washed clean of makeup when they were waiting for the pizza delivery, and her hair is in a ponytail.
She's fucking beautiful, and he thinks she's even more beautiful like this, all relaxed and easy, than she is when she's all dolled up.
"I love you," he says, watching her take a bite of her crust. She blinks. "I just...fuck, Rach, I really do."
Rachel finishes chewing her bite and swallows, setting the rest of her crust in the lid of the pizza box. She doesn't know exactly when she fell in love with Noah, though it's begun to feel like she's been in love with him forever. He's just been there for her like no one else in her entire life, and she can't do anything but love him for that.
"I love you, too," she says after a moment, almost whispering. "So much."
It feels amazing to say the words aloud again and know that he feels the same way.
It's even better the next time, when he's inside her and she murmurs it against his lips, her hair making a curtain around their faces as she moves over him.
*
Puck's title at Helmsley and Monroe is 'junior associate,' which he very quickly learns puts him just a step above the unpaid intern that he was last summer. At first, a lot of what he's doing is bullshit paper pushing and busy work. Just a few years ago, he would have said fuck it and blown it all off, but he's grown up, and he gets that he needs to pay his dues if he wants to get anywhere. Plus, keeping these guys happy is what's going to ensure that he gets his school paid for; if that means kissing ass and doing bullshit for a couple of years, that's what he'll do.
He and Rachel fall into a routine pretty easily, even though their schedules aren't the most compatible. Puck's at work by nine every morning, and she doesn't get out of the theater until nearly eleven each night. They don't live together, but they still sleep in the same bed most nights, sort of alternating between their apartments. Puck stays up until she gets home, and she gets up before he leaves each morning. No, he doesn't really see enough of her, but it is what it is, and they're making it work.
About the middle of August, one of the junior partners taps Puck to work on a project, remodeling a massive house for some movie producer out in Connecticut. It's the same junior partner who took an interest in Puck last summer, which he thinks means he must be doing something right.
"That's amazing," Rachel says when he tells her the news. She knows how big this is for him, and she can sense the change in his demeanor almost immediately, the difference between going to work each day and going through the motions and going to work each day and doing what makes you happy.
She knows exactly what going through the motions looks like, because she's doing it herself.
Rachel thinks that the only person more eager for Jessica to get pregnant than Jessica herself is Rachel, and she's considering the woman's very enthusiastic husband. At first, being a part of the chorus was lovely. She was honored just to be a part of the show, and it afforded her an opportunity to watch the other actors, to learn the other parts, even the ones that she couldn't dream of playing for another twenty years.
It's still a rush, being on stage eight times a week, but it's less, somehow, when she knows that no one is looking at her, no one is listening to her. Maybe it's selfish, but Rachel still firmly believes that she's meant to be a star. She can be a part of a group, but she's a leader, not a follower, and it's hard to lead from the back of the stage.
She's still giving it everything she has, and she knows that the director has been impressed with her; he told her so. That doesn't matter though, not while Jessica is still around, not to mention her understudy. (Admittedly, the understudy is a flake and could easily be passed over for the role if Jessica left. Still.)
Noah meets her outside the theater after her last Sunday show on Labor Day weekend. Both of the day's shows were sold out, but Rachel doesn't feel the same exhilaration about that as she did even when she was performing with New Directions at a show choir competition in middle-of-nowhere, Ohio. This is Broadway, and she feels nothing.
He drapes his arm over her shoulder, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "How'd it go?" he asks, his standard question when he sees her after a show. She thinks it's endearing.
Her answer is a noncommital, "Fine," which Puck hates. She doesn't talk about it much, but he knows that she's feeling dejected about the show. He gets it, sort of, because he knows her and how she is, but he thinks that she needs to chill a little. It can't happen all at once, and she's only been out of school for three months.
"I have a bottle of that red wine that you like," he tells her instead of saying anything else about the show. "I don't have to work tomorrow, so I think we should get drunk and fuck all night."
"Noah!" she hisses, looking around fervently to see if anyone else on the street overheard his vulgarity, but she can't help the laughter that bubbles up.
He just shakes his head. "Tell me that doesn't sound fucking amazing."
"Well, of course it does," she concedes, biting her lip when he smirks down at her.