Making Our Way
Title: Making Our Way
Author: puppyloveclub
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Glee
Couple: Puck/Lauren
Notes: Here is the next chapter! I hope to finish Ch. 4 this week, too! I "heart" feedback! haha
Chapter 3
Lauren is pulled from a sound slumber by the sensation of fingertips pulling on her earlobe. She grumbles some noises and leans against the cold window to her right.
“Come on, Zizes!” Puck says to her, “Wake up! I’m so bored!”
“Sleeping. Will break balls,” she mumbles the minimum amount of words necessary to express her intentions without opening her eyes.
“Please?” he responds and tries to tickle her side with one of his hands. He hasn’t figured out yet that tickling doesn’t work on her. She mostly finds it annoying. She is also annoyed by the fact that Puck’s arms are long enough that he can reach her from the other side of the car, but she can’t reach him without moving a lot. Damn those perfectly chiseled arms.
“Help me stay awake,” Puck pleads.
Lauren reluctantly opens her eyes and starts to move. It’s just after four in the afternoon, but this rain is making it seem much later.
“One of us had to get up early today and wrestle all morning. And that one of us is not you, Puckerman.”
“I know, but I’ve been driving for hours now and the state of Ohio is boring as hell.” He yawns while he continues, “I’ve heard that CD three times.”
“Where are we?” Lauren asks him, looking out her window.
“Just crossed into Pennsylvania. We still have a long-ass way to go.”
“Geez, Grandma. Don’t be afraid of that gas pedal,” she teases.
“Let’s play a driving game,” he grins at her deviously, “How about ‘Truth or Dare’?”
“Are you a 12-year-old girl?” she asks bluntly. “Why not ‘Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board’?”
“I don’t know what those words mean…Wait, did you just say ‘stiff’?”
She glosses past that last comment and questions him, “Are you trying to find out all my darkest secrets?”
“Mostly, I’m hoping to get you to flash a trucker,” he admits.
She scoffs loudly. “What kind of girl do you think I am? I mean, maybe I’d moon a trucker, but this dreary weather doesn’t offer the best lighting for that.”
She expects him to laugh but he doesn’t. “Don’t even tease me like that, Zizes. I’ll never sleep again.” He sighs deeply then adds, “I’ll go first.”
“Alright,” she smiles, “truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he decides.
Lauren rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth in disapproval. She crosses her arms to think for a moment. “Who are the best and worst kissers in Glee Club?”
“Present company excluded?” he shoots her a crooked smirk.
“For the sake of the game,” she emphasizes to keep him from getting too cocky, “we will say yes. Present company excluded.”
“Well, I can only tell you about the girls,” he points about.
“HA!” she interjects so that he knows she doesn’t believe him.
“Best: Brittany. Being from another planet, she has no sense of shame or reality, really. It pretty much means she’s a freak. Worst is Santana. She was obsessed with turning all the lights off, blasting Ani DiFranco, and insisted I let her spray me with some fruity perfume.”
“Interesting choices…” Lauren ponders, trying to unweave the experiences Puck had lived but never paid attention.
“Speaking of the devil,” he emphasizes to make an easy joke, “Finn texted me a while ago. I guess Santana stole her sister’s ID and they used it at a liquor store while Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were out at the American Museum of Financial History. Seriously. That exists.”
“Sounds like a wild night is in store for everyone,” she mockingly responds. Puck just nods, not identifying her sarcasm. Sometimes she wonders how the Glee kids are able to constantly top their own bad decisions. God knows Mr. Schue won’t be running out of tear-filled song-lectures any time soon.
He interrupts her thoughts, almost yelling, “Your turn!”
Lauren unbuckles her seatbelt to readjust herself in the old truck’s seat.
“Hey there,” he playfully winks at her and stretches his arm out to put his hand on the headrest behind her, “You coming over by me?”
Lauren laughs hard and pushes his shoulder then refastens the belt. As much as she would love to, she knows this “unbuckling her seatbelt to get closer to him” game is a slippery slope.
“I’m just getting ready. Hit me with a dare,” she smirks.
“Ohh, baby wants a dare!” Puck moves his hand from the headrest to the back of her neck and gently scoops her hair off to one side. Trying to keep one eye on the road, he pauses for a moment to run his thumb over the soft, pale skin behind her ear.
Regaining his composure, he begins, “Okay, I dare you to-”
“Wait, before you even say it, anything involving truckers is off the table. I don’t want us getting followed for the next hundred miles by a 55-year-old bald man in overalls who wants to make me his ‘old lady.’”
“Wait, you’re not into that?” he feigns surprise. She swats his hand out of her hair.
“Okay, okay,” he grins, “Here it is. I dare you to prank call Rachel. Pretend you are Barbra Streisand’s personal assistant or something and that Barbra saw Rachel on the street in New York singing with her friends and she insists Rachel come into her studio and lay down some tracks with her.”
“That is just conniving enough for me to be entirely on board.” Lauren picks up her phone and starts to dial. “Wait, won’t she know my number?”
“*67 that shit!” he exclaims. She kind of loves when they work together to do bad things.
Puck just stares in amazement as Lauren pulls off the prank call flawlessly.
Snapping the phone shut, she laughs, “She totally bought it! She told me that she always sings extra loud when she is in Manhattan because ‘you never know who is listening.’ She didn’t even ask how I found out who she is or how to contact her.”
Lauren shakes her head in disgust then continues, “I guess Berry really thinks everyone knows her. Ms. Streisand is supposed to call her later tonight to set up a meeting. The biggest flaw to this scheme is that we will have to deal with her massive depression when that call never comes through.”
Puck nods seriously then breaks into a smile again, “Still worth it!” They both giggle and he says, “My turn again. Dare!” She watches him release another big yawn.
“Why don’t you let me drive for a while?” she offers.
“No, no, I’m totally fine,” he replies, squeezing her knee a little. “I don’t think you could handle Bertha. She is a fine piece of American automobile.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Puckerman. I’ve driven big heaps of metal before, and Bertha will be no different,” she says then adds, cunningly, “Really. I dare you to let me drive.”
“Sneaky move, Zizes,” he admits, but, clearly tired, he changes lanes to make a right at the next exit.
Lauren makes a quick trip to freshen up in the restroom while Puck pumps some gas. When she emerges, he has disappeared into the gas station. She shuffles quickly through the rain, avoiding large puddles. It is really starting to come down hard.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, she takes off her glasses and wipes them dry with the bottom of her shirt. She watches as Puck comes through the gas station door, the back of his shirt pulled up over his head as he runs through the rain. He opens the passenger side door and jumps in, his right hand held behind his back.
“Presents for the driver,” he grins and brings his arm back around to the front. In his lap, he holds a large bag of Skittles and a shockingly neon green carnation. He hands the flower to Lauren and lies, “I picked it myself.”
“Oh yeah?” she laughs, “Somewhere off of the Yellow Brick Road?” He just gawks at her, not understanding the reference. She leans in and kisses his pink lips softly.
“Oh, you just wait. There’s one more thing,” he says, grinning at her and leans forward to reach into the back pocket of his jeans.
She can smell it before she can see it. Puck hands her a pink, cherry-scented car air freshener with the words “Truckers Turn My Engine” in big black letters, surrounded by glittery hearts.
She stares at him for almost half a minute, driving him crazy with suspense. Finally, she says, “Three things. One, if you’re planning to display that in here, I am walking. Two: Have you considered the impact that thing could have on this ‘bad boy of the road’ thing you have going on here? And three,” she smirks and points to the tacky item, “Would you look at those perfectly drawn hearts?”
Lauren reaches for the ignition and turns the key forcefully. Bertha produces a series of shrill noises before falling silent.
“Whoa, what the hell?” he howls, “You can’t just. You gotta turn it like--” he reaches across her leg to push her hand out of the way and turn the engine on.
She glowers at him, “I could have figured it out, Puck.”
They look at each other tensely for a moment, the old truck purring loudly as rain pounds against the hood and roof.
She breaks the stare-down and pulls the vehicle into gear. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”
They both jerk slightly in their seats as Lauren clumsily tries to get a handle of the old brakes. Puck sits back in his seat and sighs, buckling his own seatbelt.
Lauren’s leg of the trip begins with about five minutes of complete silence. At one point, Puck’s phone vibrates with a text message. As he reads it to himself, a big grin crosses his face and he chuckles as he puts the phone back in his pocket.
After another drawn out period of silence, Puck leans forward to turn some music on. He places the “Puck hearts Lauren” mix into the CD player and hurriedly skips through the first several songs, obviously seeking one in particular.
When he lets it play, she knows right away what song it is. There is a guitar then some folksy fiddle, and she groans. The bastard knows just how to get to her.
“Really? ‘Wagon Wheel’?” she asks him, “Trying to make me forget that you’re an ass by playing my favorite song?”
He doesn’t respond or even look at her. He just starts softly singing along and leans back to relax against the headrest, watching the scenery out the window.
So rock me mama like a wagon wheel
Rock me mama anyway you feel
Hey mama rock me
Rock me mama like the wind and the rain
Rock me mama like a south-bound train
Hey mama rock me
Unable to help herself, Lauren starts to sing, too. Within a couple verses, she realizes she is the only one. Puck’s voice has faded into soft, breathy snoring. She lowers her voice just slightly and continues onto the refrain.
Author: puppyloveclub
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Glee
Couple: Puck/Lauren
Notes: Here is the next chapter! I hope to finish Ch. 4 this week, too! I "heart" feedback! haha
Chapter 3
Lauren is pulled from a sound slumber by the sensation of fingertips pulling on her earlobe. She grumbles some noises and leans against the cold window to her right.
“Come on, Zizes!” Puck says to her, “Wake up! I’m so bored!”
“Sleeping. Will break balls,” she mumbles the minimum amount of words necessary to express her intentions without opening her eyes.
“Please?” he responds and tries to tickle her side with one of his hands. He hasn’t figured out yet that tickling doesn’t work on her. She mostly finds it annoying. She is also annoyed by the fact that Puck’s arms are long enough that he can reach her from the other side of the car, but she can’t reach him without moving a lot. Damn those perfectly chiseled arms.
“Help me stay awake,” Puck pleads.
Lauren reluctantly opens her eyes and starts to move. It’s just after four in the afternoon, but this rain is making it seem much later.
“One of us had to get up early today and wrestle all morning. And that one of us is not you, Puckerman.”
“I know, but I’ve been driving for hours now and the state of Ohio is boring as hell.” He yawns while he continues, “I’ve heard that CD three times.”
“Where are we?” Lauren asks him, looking out her window.
“Just crossed into Pennsylvania. We still have a long-ass way to go.”
“Geez, Grandma. Don’t be afraid of that gas pedal,” she teases.
“Let’s play a driving game,” he grins at her deviously, “How about ‘Truth or Dare’?”
“Are you a 12-year-old girl?” she asks bluntly. “Why not ‘Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board’?”
“I don’t know what those words mean…Wait, did you just say ‘stiff’?”
She glosses past that last comment and questions him, “Are you trying to find out all my darkest secrets?”
“Mostly, I’m hoping to get you to flash a trucker,” he admits.
She scoffs loudly. “What kind of girl do you think I am? I mean, maybe I’d moon a trucker, but this dreary weather doesn’t offer the best lighting for that.”
She expects him to laugh but he doesn’t. “Don’t even tease me like that, Zizes. I’ll never sleep again.” He sighs deeply then adds, “I’ll go first.”
“Alright,” she smiles, “truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he decides.
Lauren rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth in disapproval. She crosses her arms to think for a moment. “Who are the best and worst kissers in Glee Club?”
“Present company excluded?” he shoots her a crooked smirk.
“For the sake of the game,” she emphasizes to keep him from getting too cocky, “we will say yes. Present company excluded.”
“Well, I can only tell you about the girls,” he points about.
“HA!” she interjects so that he knows she doesn’t believe him.
“Best: Brittany. Being from another planet, she has no sense of shame or reality, really. It pretty much means she’s a freak. Worst is Santana. She was obsessed with turning all the lights off, blasting Ani DiFranco, and insisted I let her spray me with some fruity perfume.”
“Interesting choices…” Lauren ponders, trying to unweave the experiences Puck had lived but never paid attention.
“Speaking of the devil,” he emphasizes to make an easy joke, “Finn texted me a while ago. I guess Santana stole her sister’s ID and they used it at a liquor store while Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were out at the American Museum of Financial History. Seriously. That exists.”
“Sounds like a wild night is in store for everyone,” she mockingly responds. Puck just nods, not identifying her sarcasm. Sometimes she wonders how the Glee kids are able to constantly top their own bad decisions. God knows Mr. Schue won’t be running out of tear-filled song-lectures any time soon.
He interrupts her thoughts, almost yelling, “Your turn!”
Lauren unbuckles her seatbelt to readjust herself in the old truck’s seat.
“Hey there,” he playfully winks at her and stretches his arm out to put his hand on the headrest behind her, “You coming over by me?”
Lauren laughs hard and pushes his shoulder then refastens the belt. As much as she would love to, she knows this “unbuckling her seatbelt to get closer to him” game is a slippery slope.
“I’m just getting ready. Hit me with a dare,” she smirks.
“Ohh, baby wants a dare!” Puck moves his hand from the headrest to the back of her neck and gently scoops her hair off to one side. Trying to keep one eye on the road, he pauses for a moment to run his thumb over the soft, pale skin behind her ear.
Regaining his composure, he begins, “Okay, I dare you to-”
“Wait, before you even say it, anything involving truckers is off the table. I don’t want us getting followed for the next hundred miles by a 55-year-old bald man in overalls who wants to make me his ‘old lady.’”
“Wait, you’re not into that?” he feigns surprise. She swats his hand out of her hair.
“Okay, okay,” he grins, “Here it is. I dare you to prank call Rachel. Pretend you are Barbra Streisand’s personal assistant or something and that Barbra saw Rachel on the street in New York singing with her friends and she insists Rachel come into her studio and lay down some tracks with her.”
“That is just conniving enough for me to be entirely on board.” Lauren picks up her phone and starts to dial. “Wait, won’t she know my number?”
“*67 that shit!” he exclaims. She kind of loves when they work together to do bad things.
Puck just stares in amazement as Lauren pulls off the prank call flawlessly.
Snapping the phone shut, she laughs, “She totally bought it! She told me that she always sings extra loud when she is in Manhattan because ‘you never know who is listening.’ She didn’t even ask how I found out who she is or how to contact her.”
Lauren shakes her head in disgust then continues, “I guess Berry really thinks everyone knows her. Ms. Streisand is supposed to call her later tonight to set up a meeting. The biggest flaw to this scheme is that we will have to deal with her massive depression when that call never comes through.”
Puck nods seriously then breaks into a smile again, “Still worth it!” They both giggle and he says, “My turn again. Dare!” She watches him release another big yawn.
“Why don’t you let me drive for a while?” she offers.
“No, no, I’m totally fine,” he replies, squeezing her knee a little. “I don’t think you could handle Bertha. She is a fine piece of American automobile.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Puckerman. I’ve driven big heaps of metal before, and Bertha will be no different,” she says then adds, cunningly, “Really. I dare you to let me drive.”
“Sneaky move, Zizes,” he admits, but, clearly tired, he changes lanes to make a right at the next exit.
Lauren makes a quick trip to freshen up in the restroom while Puck pumps some gas. When she emerges, he has disappeared into the gas station. She shuffles quickly through the rain, avoiding large puddles. It is really starting to come down hard.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, she takes off her glasses and wipes them dry with the bottom of her shirt. She watches as Puck comes through the gas station door, the back of his shirt pulled up over his head as he runs through the rain. He opens the passenger side door and jumps in, his right hand held behind his back.
“Presents for the driver,” he grins and brings his arm back around to the front. In his lap, he holds a large bag of Skittles and a shockingly neon green carnation. He hands the flower to Lauren and lies, “I picked it myself.”
“Oh yeah?” she laughs, “Somewhere off of the Yellow Brick Road?” He just gawks at her, not understanding the reference. She leans in and kisses his pink lips softly.
“Oh, you just wait. There’s one more thing,” he says, grinning at her and leans forward to reach into the back pocket of his jeans.
She can smell it before she can see it. Puck hands her a pink, cherry-scented car air freshener with the words “Truckers Turn My Engine” in big black letters, surrounded by glittery hearts.
She stares at him for almost half a minute, driving him crazy with suspense. Finally, she says, “Three things. One, if you’re planning to display that in here, I am walking. Two: Have you considered the impact that thing could have on this ‘bad boy of the road’ thing you have going on here? And three,” she smirks and points to the tacky item, “Would you look at those perfectly drawn hearts?”
Lauren reaches for the ignition and turns the key forcefully. Bertha produces a series of shrill noises before falling silent.
“Whoa, what the hell?” he howls, “You can’t just. You gotta turn it like--” he reaches across her leg to push her hand out of the way and turn the engine on.
She glowers at him, “I could have figured it out, Puck.”
They look at each other tensely for a moment, the old truck purring loudly as rain pounds against the hood and roof.
She breaks the stare-down and pulls the vehicle into gear. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”
They both jerk slightly in their seats as Lauren clumsily tries to get a handle of the old brakes. Puck sits back in his seat and sighs, buckling his own seatbelt.
Lauren’s leg of the trip begins with about five minutes of complete silence. At one point, Puck’s phone vibrates with a text message. As he reads it to himself, a big grin crosses his face and he chuckles as he puts the phone back in his pocket.
After another drawn out period of silence, Puck leans forward to turn some music on. He places the “Puck hearts Lauren” mix into the CD player and hurriedly skips through the first several songs, obviously seeking one in particular.
When he lets it play, she knows right away what song it is. There is a guitar then some folksy fiddle, and she groans. The bastard knows just how to get to her.
“Really? ‘Wagon Wheel’?” she asks him, “Trying to make me forget that you’re an ass by playing my favorite song?”
He doesn’t respond or even look at her. He just starts softly singing along and leans back to relax against the headrest, watching the scenery out the window.
So rock me mama like a wagon wheel
Rock me mama anyway you feel
Hey mama rock me
Rock me mama like the wind and the rain
Rock me mama like a south-bound train
Hey mama rock me
Unable to help herself, Lauren starts to sing, too. Within a couple verses, she realizes she is the only one. Puck’s voice has faded into soft, breathy snoring. She lowers her voice just slightly and continues onto the refrain.