if I could tell you 12/13
Title: If I could tell you
Chapter: 12/13
Rating: M
Characters: Puck, Rachel, OC
Word Count: 3300
Summary: Puck and Rachel get another chance when unexpected events bring her to his doorstep years after graduation.*****
Being in the studio is amazing on all sorts of different levels. For one thing, she's very excited to see Noah's workplace. Chances are she would have come in at some point anyway, met him there after work or stopped by with lunch on a weekend when he had to go in, but being behind the scenes is like getting a sneak peek a part of him she doesn't know all that well. She has to admit that she's definitely curious about what he does and has been for a while. Aviva and Sarah let a lot of little tidbits fall at Temple over the years and she has an excellent memory.
One thing that absolutely never shocked her was how well he's done for himself. He was always willing to put time and effort into something he was passionate about, whether it was a song arrangement, football or even pursuing a girl. So this, working with musicians, helping them develop their artistic vision, mastering the complex skills that go into creating the finished product, it seems perfect for him and frankly, there's something very sexy about a man who's good at what he does.
Not to mention that scanning the office doors over to the left and trying to guess which one belongs to him is an excellent distraction. She wasn't lying when she told him she was nervous.
She shouldn't be because in the great scheme of things this isn't a big deal. Well, not musically speaking anyway. To be quite honest, this is the kind of swaying-in-the-back harmonizing that she might very well have thrown a fit about being assigned back in high school. Now? Back-ground singers are a dime a dozen, although from what she gathers this artist has some very specific ideas about what he's looking for. With or without her contributions, Noah will find someone and the new album will come out.
But.
She's had Jared's first album on replay for days, and it may not be Broadway but it's imaginative, well thought out, well constructed music with influences borrowed from dozens of different genres.
And being part of something special makes you special. (She remembers.)
Josh, who gives her a tour of the sound booth and explains every step, is sweet, as is the accompanist, who for some reason reminds her of Brad. And it feels really good to sing again outside of providing instruction or trying to put a small person to sleep. She does three takes, with Josh asking her to make small changes between each one and then she's done. Everyone smiles and tells her that she's done a wonderful job, but for all she knows, they say that to everyone.
She leaves in time to make it back to her afternoon classes and has a perfectly normal day. Teaching and students and picking up Connor and making dinner and it's almost like the morning's interlude didn't happen. She tells herself it's not a let-down.
*****
She manages, barely, to refrain from grilling Noah about it on the nights he's able to get away over the next few days. Mostly, of course, she doesn't want to put him in an awkward position, but also his workload is starting to pick up quite a bit and she wants to save their alone time for the important things. Dinner together, even if it has to warmed up after Connor has gone to sleep and laughing over some ridiculous movie on late-night television, or even just talking. And yes, also lots of orgasms. Luckily, Connor sleeps very soundly.
(Noah breathing out 'baby' softly against her collarbone, pulling one of her thighs higher up along his hip and thrusting sharply while she arches up to meet him. Her pebbled nipples dragging along his chest, and the sound he makes when she licks a stripe along his neck and scrapes her teeth along his earlobe. Tightening around him, his thumb circling her clit, but never quite enough to until she moans and guides his hand to where she needs it. Finally falling over the edge with him, the weight of him pressing into her the mattress feeling like the only real thing in the world.)
It's almost enough to distract her from the fact that its been a week and she still hasn't heard anything.
*****
Friday is an absolutely hellacious day.
There's a rip in her favorite pair of tights, she has to comb through the small apartment twice to find her shoes and Connor is so excited to get to school he runs off through the classroom door without a backward glance. (That last one is a good thing of course, but still, there's a definite pang there.)
Her students are all over the place, mostly running on at length about tonight's dance and every time she tries to pull their attention back to tempo, key and meter, it invariably slips back into dresses, dating and after-parties. Not for the first time since she started teaching, she understands what Mr. Schuester went through with all of them.
"Come on, Ms. B. It's the first dance of the year," Henry Finch (decent bari-tenor but needs work on his articulation) says coaxingly. "You must remember what it was like. I mean for a teacher, you're...."
She give him a look and he flushes and trails off in confusion, but Emma Davies (mid-range alto, good breath control) picks up where he left off.
"Henry's right. Everyone thinks you're really pretty, Ms. B. You must have gone to loads of dances when you were our age."
One or two. Not particularly experiences she wants to re-live.
"I went to a few," she says dampeningly, "But none of them are likely to help with the pop quiz on musical notation that I may feel like giving next week."
That certainly ends the conversation, only, ugh, now she's remembering Junior Prom and Jessie and Finn shoving each other like a pair of children fighting over a shiny new toy.
Finn. Oh crap.
There's an immediate sinking feeling in her stomach because he's called her three times in the last four days and she either hasn't had a chance to return any of his calls or when she has had a chance, she's been preoccupied. She doesn't even have the excuse of distance: he's back in the States as of last week, which presumably should have made the time differences easier to navigate. Even if he's just calling to confirm the holiday plans again (Burt and Carole purchased airline tickets for Connor and herself back in July) she has a responsibility to her son to return calls in a timely manner. What makes it even worse is that there's no question in her mind that she would be livid if the situation was reversed.
She can't get away until her lunch break, but when she tries him, his phone is off and of course she's thinking about it the rest of the day, which doesn't improve her mood.
By the time she's picked up Connor and the two of them head over to Noah's place, she's left several messages of her own and even considered calling Burt and Carole, just to make sure it's not an emergency, but she doesn't want to put them in the middle of it.
Fine. There's nothing she can do about it now, so clearly the best thing to do is put it out of her mind and enjoy her evening with Noah.
*****
"Those peppers do anything to offend you, Rach?" Noah asks in her ear.
She looks guiltily down at the cutting board where she's gone quite a bit beyond coarsely chopped. All right, so maybe completely forgetting about it was a tad unrealistic.
"It's been a rough day," she admits. "I guess I'm taking out my aggressions on our dinner."
He glances back to the living-room where Connor is engrossed in coloring and then slides his warm palm along her stomach. "Rough day, huh? I can help you with that," he rumbles and she smiles. She loves how careful he is around Connor both with his language and his, well, physical affection, for lack of a better term, even if she's already had the g-rated discussion with her son about what constitutes dating. Connor's reaction? To ask for another date with Gracie, which then prompts further explanation about the difference between a play-date and a date-date. She's still not sure if he's convinced.
"I know you can," she says, leaning back into him slightly when his other hand comes to rest on her hip. "But for now, maybe you should finish setting the table, otherwise we'll never eat. You're much too distracting." She twists in his arms, plants a quick kiss on his lips and lightly pushes him back.
"Spoilsport," he teases, grabbing the stack of plates on the counter as he goes. "Anyway, I wasn't talking about that." She definitely catches him mumbling 'not yet anyway,' under his breath as he turns towards the table. "How come your day sucked? Kids getting out of hand? I could stop by and strike a little terror into their little high school hearts if you need me to. Pretty sure I've still got it," he grins.
She snorts. (But honestly, he still does). "That won't be necessary and besides, I don't have any interest in peeling the female half of the student body off the floor off the floor the minute you walk by." Not to mention the female staff: he is ridiculously handsome.
"You're right, it probably wouldn't be fair," he says thoughtfully, ducking with a laugh as she throws a dish-towel at his head. "I know, I know, enough about how hot I am. Now spill."
So she tells him about all the petty annoyances of the day while she throws the ingredients for the stir-fry into the hot pan. She pauses for a moment when she finally gets to Finn. He's not a sore point between them, in fact, they rarely talk about him at all, and maybe that's why it feels so strange right now. But now it feels even stranger to be hesitating so she just launches right into the whole story.
"Oh yeah?" he says neutrally when she trails off, and it's stupid, but she immediately feels defensive.
"I know! I feel awful about it, but I've been incredibly busy with school and getting Connor settled in at school and...and...."
"And me," he suggests.
"Yes, and you," she almost snaps, stirring the vegetables and tofu vigorously. "Why not you? You are my boyfriend after all and a big part of my life. You take up a lot of my time but that doesn't mean it's necessarily unwelcome." She turns off the stove and turns to find him with his hands dug in his pockets and a curious expression on his face.
"Boyfriend, huh?" he says.
She nibbles on her bottom lip. "Is that a problem?"
"No," he says quickly. "Not at all. Definitely not a problem." He rubs a hand nervously along the back of his scalp. "I guess I've just been wondering what you've told people about us."
People? Where is he going with this? "I told you what Connor's response was, right?" she asks.
His face brightens for a second. "You said. I'm telling you Rach, you're going to have to look out for those two in another ten years or so."
Hmmph. She doesn't want to think about that. "And Daddy knows." Noah doesn't need to know exactly how much Daddy knows. She really needs to stop over-sharing. "Are you asking about...Finn?"
He shrugs and turns away, grabbing the glasses from the cupboard above the sink. "Never mind, it's not a big deal. S'none of my business anyway."
"I told him," she says quietly, checking to make sure that Connor is still engaged in the living room. "I told him we were together."
(The pause is so long she thinks she's lost the call until finally Finn asks, 'Together? Together as in boyfriend-girlfriend or just in the same room together? Because 'together' can have a lot of different meanings, Rachel.')
"Bet that went over big," Noah says evenly.
(Good lord, does he really need a definition? "We're dating," she grits out.)
"Truthfully, I think he was more confused than anything else," she replies.
('So let me get this straight. You're dating Puck? Noah Puckerman from Lima, Ohio? That Puck?')
"I'll bet," Noah snorts.
('Finn Hudson if you don't stop saying 'Puck' in that singularly stupid tone of voice, we're going to have words!')
"Noah, It's not like he gets a vote or anything, but since the three of us are spending a lot of time together as a...." She barely catches herself before she finishes that sentence with 'family' and she can feel a flush start to rise on her cheeks. "...as a group..." A group? Ugh, that was awkward. "...I thought he should know about us."
"Oh," he replies just as quietly and when she moves to grab a serving bowl, he snags her around the waist and kisses her softly, one hand sliding up her back and brushing the ends of her hair and she's breathless by the time he pulls back.
"What was that all about?" she asks, even if she's not sure if she means the game of twenty questions or the kiss or both. He looks like he's about to say something, only Connor is suddenly bouncing around the kitchen singing a song about carrots and complaining that he's hungry right now and Bunny is too and between that, helping Noah bring the food to the table and locating two cold beers and a juice box from the refrigerator, she gets distracted. (Again. She should totally go back to her post-it note system no matter how silly it looks to have tiny slips of paper fluttering around everywhere.)
And maybe she was imagining it because later, when Connor has jumped and played and sang himself into an exhausted heap on the couch and she and Noah are sharing the chair (it's a little crowded with her perched on his lap, but neither of them seem to mind) he doesn't have anything to say. Instead he's got one arm snagged around her waist while he traces tiny patterns along her bare knee with his other hand.
"Noah!" she says with half a laugh, stilling his hand because it tickles.
"There's another one," he says with satisfaction, sliding his fingertips up her side to rest just below her rib cage.
"Another what?" she asks, giggling and swatting him.
"I'm figuring out all your spots," he says, grinning wickedly. "It'll probably take a while."
She really likes the sound of that and she's about to tell him exactly how much when his phone rings.
"Sorry baby," he says, sliding out from under her, with an apologetic pat on her bottom. "I've really got to take that one." He grabs his phone and heads out into the kitchen where she can hear him say, 'Jared! I haven't heard from you all week. What's up?'
Luckily for her integrity before she's tempted to listen in, her son begins to stir. She crosses over to him and rubs his back gently while tucking Bunny into his side. Still mostly asleep, he sighs and settles back into the couch cushion and he's right on the edge of deep sleep again when her own phone rings. Groaning inwardly, she yanks it out of her handbag and answers as quickly and quietly as she can, hoping it doesn't disturb Connor.
"Hello?"
"Rachel? It's me. I've got a favor to ask."
It takes her a minute to understand him. In fact, he has to repeat his request twice and she's still dumbfounded, even as she automatically writes the address down. She's staring down at her phone, trying to force her brain to start moving again when Noah rushes back into the room, too excited to be quiet.
"Rach! That was Jared! He heard the demos and you're the one he wants! And wait, it gets better! The reason he hasn't been returning calls is because he spent all week writing three new songs. And yeah, that basically means I'm totally screwed because we're supposed to be in the studio next week, but never mind that. He wants to feature you. That means album credit and not just a line on the notes. It means an audience, a national audience if this album goes over half as well as I think it's going to. It may not be Broadway, but this could be the start of something, Rachel!"
"Me?" she gasps, half incredulous and half exhilarated.
"Of course, you!" he laughs. "I told you California would be good for you. Hey do you think you can make some time this weekend to come in for introductions and maybe a quick run-through? And after that we can work around your schedule as much as possible. Connor's too." He grinds to a halt and a faintly queasy expression crosses his face. "I mean, you are going to do it, aren't you? Because if not, I've got a lot of organic farms near Portland to start combing through. No pressure, though."
"Am I going to do it? Just try to stop me!" she blurts out. She knows she can do this and judging by his expression, Noah does too.
"We should celebrate!" he says, "I haven't got any champagne but we could split the last beer and hey! You should call your dad!" He looks down at the phone and the little notebook still clutched in her hand. "Was that him on the phone?"
For the second time that day, her stomach is doing a swan-dive and she blinks. "No. No, that was Finn. He lost his wallet and he needs me to pick him up at the bus station."
On the couch beside her, Connor pushes himself up. "Daddy's here?" he squeaks excitedly. "I want Daddy!"
Would now be a good time for a (strictly internal) curse word?
Chapter 13