Fic: It's just a moment of change, 2/?
Title: It's just a moment of change, 2/?
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,658
Warnings: Puck's sailor talk, etc.
Spoilers: 1x13, Sectionals, future-fic
Summary: It cost McKinley’s golden couple, a baby, devastated dreams, and several broken-hearted girls to get there. Title taken from OneRepublic's All We Are.
iii.
Prom is a sad affair for just about everybody.
Puck doesn’t go because seriously? Fuck bow ties. He did his deal for the Acafellas and that turned out lame since not one of his pool cleaning “clients” were brave enough to acknowledge him at a PTA meeting. What a waste of time.
It’s the night of senior prom. He’s finishing out his shift when he sees Brittany wander into the hardware aisle like she has a clue. She doesn’t.
Roughly shoving the last god damn drill set onto the shelf (he swears if he has to touch another one, he’s using it… on himself), he catches her attention.
“Puck?”
She’s got a basketful of random crap and a glazed look to her eyes. He does not miss the light up bouncy ball from the toy section sitting on top of a box of douches in her basket. It makes him shudder.
“Yes, I’m real and no, I’m not a figment of your imagination,” he deadpans.
“Okay,” she responds brightly. “But, what are you doing here?”
“Making that mon-mon.”
“Why aren’t you at prom?”
“The Puckerone doesn’t do prom or dances or socials or any of that other bullshit. Shit’s wack.”
“Santana said you used to break dance at homecoming.”
“Santana needs to shut the fuck up.”
She looks like she might cry, so he thinks about apologizing, which is fine because she won’t remember long enough to tell another soul. But then she does it for him.
“Sorry. It’s just… I’m mad at her too,” she explains with a long sigh.
He doesn’t respond because emotional girls + Puck = ?
He usually walks away from situations like these; correction, the girls usually walk away pissed off, retracting any sort of responsibility on his part. They’re better off without his help.
But he’ll amuse her, since she’s one of the very few people actively talking to him right now.
“What’d the chola do?”
She smiles a little because that is a word that she understands.
“She took Finn to the prom.”
His eyebrows nix in confusion. Because he swears up and down that just last week, dude was manhandling Berry. They would’ve been dating for almost two months by now. No, he’s not counting, he’s just awesome at math.
But now that he thinks about it he’s never witnessed their relationship in public. No one has.
God. He wonders when Finn Hudson became just as much of an asshole as him.
It’s more of a one-sided conversation as Brittany continues yammering on and he knows it’s because Santana took Finn and not her. He also knows that Mike Chang totally asked her and got dissed in the process. Britt and Santana were always making out at parties pretending like it was for everyone else. When it happened the second time, he and every other dude at that party were stoked, but after the third time he just realized they were gay or bi or whatever.
Not to mention (because he will never mention it), one of the last few times he and San hooked up, she tried to convince him to put on her Cheerios skirt while straddling him in nothing but his jersey. And he’s kinky, but fuck that.
“So, I don’t think I’m going to talk to her until she apologizes.”
He nods in agreement because what the fuck else can he do.
“When do you get off of work?”
“Soon.”
“Well, I’d invite you to hang out with me, but Quinn’s over at my house. She’s upset about prom too, so she probably doesn’t want you there.”
He feels a little hollow not because Quinn doesn’t want to hang out with him (what else is new) but because of the stupid, petty high school dreams that eat away at people like her. And him. And everyone else.
The thought of some plastic tiara hoisted on Santana’s head makes him a little sick. Mostly because it cost McKinley’s golden couple, a baby, devastated dreams, and several broken-hearted girls to get there.
“Actually, I was supposed to just get some ice cream.” Brittany gasps in realization.
“Just make sure you get her that cookie dough shit. Or else she might kill you.”
She looks down at the cookies n’ cream in her basket. “Oh, yeah…”
He waits for her to fully digest her thoughts because it looks like she has more to say.
“Don’t tell Santana anything. Promise?”
“Seriously Brittany, I don’t give a shit.”
She seems pleased by that as she hugs him briefly but fiercely and skips off to the frozen food aisle.
--
He hates that he remembers how to get to Berry’s house and how he feels like a stalker parked at the end of her street with his headlights turned off.
“What are you doing here?”
“HOLY SHIT!”
He forgets that his windows are rolled down because his AC unit is busted and nearly cracks his skull on the roof of his truck from jumping at the sight of Berry standing on the sidewalk. Glaring at her, he clutches his chest as he tries to calm his heart down.
“What are you doing here, Puck?”
“WHAT the hell are you doing out here? It’s like 9:30 at night.”
“Running.”
First of fucking all, he’s amazed at her one-worded response.
And then he’s a little thrown when he finally notices her little shorts, little tank top and little iPod strapped to her little arm. Her face reads that she’s pissed and her hands sit on her hips making more than just a statement. He also notices the sheen of sweat on the exposed areas of her skin. And for lack of a better word, it’s distracting.
“Look, I don’t know and I don’t care why you’re here, but you should go home.”
She starts walking in the direction of her house and he snaps out of it quick enough to hop out of his truck and catch up to her.
“Wait,”
Her arms are wrapped around herself and as she turns around he sees exhaustion in her eyes.
“I didn’t mean what I said the other day,” he admits.
Rachel scoffs. “It’s quite obvious that most of what you say or do is neither well thought-out nor purposeful.”
He can’t help it because the accusation is kind of on target and it stings. “Yeah well, not everyone can rehearse their fucking life out on myspace,”
But this doesn’t phase her.
“And not everyone has to point out the flaws of others to distract from his own.”
They fall silent at the cutting words. And Puck realizes how much has evolved, how people change. Because at the beginning of this year, Rachel Berry was a lowly sophomore theatre freak. He had proudly slushied her (over and over again) because overachievement outshines everybody. And as good an actress as she was, her obsession with Finn Hudson was just a known fact. So automatically, she became shark bait for the Cheerios.
And now here she is bashing him. Him. She carries with herself a reputation of sorts. People still think she’s crazy (Hello? She totally is) but, she kind of messed up the whole school hierarchy with the glee club of all things. And she was the only one with balls to actually inform Finn that you can’t actually impregnate a girl by jizzing in the hot tub. So, there’s this unspoken respect for the nut job.
He even had this weird week long… thing with her. He still wonders how the hell that happened.
“Look, I’m sorry for that crap I said. Cause it’s not true.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not mad anymore.” She smiles wistfully and he thinks that either she really is a great performer, or that she’s pretending just so that she can climb into his bedroom window later tonight and murder him.
She turns to leave but stops herself. “Do you love her?”
Puck seriously blanks for a few seconds. But then he’s brought back to the reality that is his life. He stares at her like the psycho that she is.
“Who? Quinn???”
“Well, yeah…”
Berry looks stumped and he can’t help but to laugh.
“I see the things you do for her.”
“First of all, stop stalking us. And not that it ain’t obvious, but babies are freakin’ expensive. I’m just helping her out cause y’know… it’s my baby too.”
He doesn’t ask her about what happened with Finn. She doesn’t seem hung up about it and personally, he’s not interested in knowing all the details. There are just some things that he could live without knowing.
But she seems fascinated by the baby, his baby, as she coos over the most recent ultrasound photo shoved in his wallet. They talk for almost half an hour on the curb.
--
The shoebox of mementos is a harsh reminder to the ache in his chest. He considers burning it and everything inside but can’t bring himself to do it.
As much as he wants to fight it - it ain’t happening.
He wants a good life for his baby… the baby. And there’s some hopeful couple out there who’s got their shit together and more than able to raise a kid. Not a pair of dumbass seventeen-year-olds who would rather have nothing to do with each other.
He did okay without his dad so he is pretty sure this little one will too.
--
The graduation ceremony is boring, hot as hell, and Puck’s nightmare.
At one point, he just has to avoid staring into the audience at all since people like the Fabrays, Carole Hudson, Santana’s abuela, and a couple of his classmates’ moms are present. It’s especially hard to look at his own mother.
But then Rachel fucking Berry catches his eye in the mass of people, standing up on a chair in the back and waving like a lunatic. So when he’s not falling asleep or staring into space, his line of sight always returns to her.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,658
Warnings: Puck's sailor talk, etc.
Spoilers: 1x13, Sectionals, future-fic
Summary: It cost McKinley’s golden couple, a baby, devastated dreams, and several broken-hearted girls to get there. Title taken from OneRepublic's All We Are.
iii.
Prom is a sad affair for just about everybody.
Puck doesn’t go because seriously? Fuck bow ties. He did his deal for the Acafellas and that turned out lame since not one of his pool cleaning “clients” were brave enough to acknowledge him at a PTA meeting. What a waste of time.
It’s the night of senior prom. He’s finishing out his shift when he sees Brittany wander into the hardware aisle like she has a clue. She doesn’t.
Roughly shoving the last god damn drill set onto the shelf (he swears if he has to touch another one, he’s using it… on himself), he catches her attention.
“Puck?”
She’s got a basketful of random crap and a glazed look to her eyes. He does not miss the light up bouncy ball from the toy section sitting on top of a box of douches in her basket. It makes him shudder.
“Yes, I’m real and no, I’m not a figment of your imagination,” he deadpans.
“Okay,” she responds brightly. “But, what are you doing here?”
“Making that mon-mon.”
“Why aren’t you at prom?”
“The Puckerone doesn’t do prom or dances or socials or any of that other bullshit. Shit’s wack.”
“Santana said you used to break dance at homecoming.”
“Santana needs to shut the fuck up.”
She looks like she might cry, so he thinks about apologizing, which is fine because she won’t remember long enough to tell another soul. But then she does it for him.
“Sorry. It’s just… I’m mad at her too,” she explains with a long sigh.
He doesn’t respond because emotional girls + Puck = ?
He usually walks away from situations like these; correction, the girls usually walk away pissed off, retracting any sort of responsibility on his part. They’re better off without his help.
But he’ll amuse her, since she’s one of the very few people actively talking to him right now.
“What’d the chola do?”
She smiles a little because that is a word that she understands.
“She took Finn to the prom.”
His eyebrows nix in confusion. Because he swears up and down that just last week, dude was manhandling Berry. They would’ve been dating for almost two months by now. No, he’s not counting, he’s just awesome at math.
But now that he thinks about it he’s never witnessed their relationship in public. No one has.
God. He wonders when Finn Hudson became just as much of an asshole as him.
It’s more of a one-sided conversation as Brittany continues yammering on and he knows it’s because Santana took Finn and not her. He also knows that Mike Chang totally asked her and got dissed in the process. Britt and Santana were always making out at parties pretending like it was for everyone else. When it happened the second time, he and every other dude at that party were stoked, but after the third time he just realized they were gay or bi or whatever.
Not to mention (because he will never mention it), one of the last few times he and San hooked up, she tried to convince him to put on her Cheerios skirt while straddling him in nothing but his jersey. And he’s kinky, but fuck that.
“So, I don’t think I’m going to talk to her until she apologizes.”
He nods in agreement because what the fuck else can he do.
“When do you get off of work?”
“Soon.”
“Well, I’d invite you to hang out with me, but Quinn’s over at my house. She’s upset about prom too, so she probably doesn’t want you there.”
He feels a little hollow not because Quinn doesn’t want to hang out with him (what else is new) but because of the stupid, petty high school dreams that eat away at people like her. And him. And everyone else.
The thought of some plastic tiara hoisted on Santana’s head makes him a little sick. Mostly because it cost McKinley’s golden couple, a baby, devastated dreams, and several broken-hearted girls to get there.
“Actually, I was supposed to just get some ice cream.” Brittany gasps in realization.
“Just make sure you get her that cookie dough shit. Or else she might kill you.”
She looks down at the cookies n’ cream in her basket. “Oh, yeah…”
He waits for her to fully digest her thoughts because it looks like she has more to say.
“Don’t tell Santana anything. Promise?”
“Seriously Brittany, I don’t give a shit.”
She seems pleased by that as she hugs him briefly but fiercely and skips off to the frozen food aisle.
--
He hates that he remembers how to get to Berry’s house and how he feels like a stalker parked at the end of her street with his headlights turned off.
“What are you doing here?”
“HOLY SHIT!”
He forgets that his windows are rolled down because his AC unit is busted and nearly cracks his skull on the roof of his truck from jumping at the sight of Berry standing on the sidewalk. Glaring at her, he clutches his chest as he tries to calm his heart down.
“What are you doing here, Puck?”
“WHAT the hell are you doing out here? It’s like 9:30 at night.”
“Running.”
First of fucking all, he’s amazed at her one-worded response.
And then he’s a little thrown when he finally notices her little shorts, little tank top and little iPod strapped to her little arm. Her face reads that she’s pissed and her hands sit on her hips making more than just a statement. He also notices the sheen of sweat on the exposed areas of her skin. And for lack of a better word, it’s distracting.
“Look, I don’t know and I don’t care why you’re here, but you should go home.”
She starts walking in the direction of her house and he snaps out of it quick enough to hop out of his truck and catch up to her.
“Wait,”
Her arms are wrapped around herself and as she turns around he sees exhaustion in her eyes.
“I didn’t mean what I said the other day,” he admits.
Rachel scoffs. “It’s quite obvious that most of what you say or do is neither well thought-out nor purposeful.”
He can’t help it because the accusation is kind of on target and it stings. “Yeah well, not everyone can rehearse their fucking life out on myspace,”
But this doesn’t phase her.
“And not everyone has to point out the flaws of others to distract from his own.”
They fall silent at the cutting words. And Puck realizes how much has evolved, how people change. Because at the beginning of this year, Rachel Berry was a lowly sophomore theatre freak. He had proudly slushied her (over and over again) because overachievement outshines everybody. And as good an actress as she was, her obsession with Finn Hudson was just a known fact. So automatically, she became shark bait for the Cheerios.
And now here she is bashing him. Him. She carries with herself a reputation of sorts. People still think she’s crazy (Hello? She totally is) but, she kind of messed up the whole school hierarchy with the glee club of all things. And she was the only one with balls to actually inform Finn that you can’t actually impregnate a girl by jizzing in the hot tub. So, there’s this unspoken respect for the nut job.
He even had this weird week long… thing with her. He still wonders how the hell that happened.
“Look, I’m sorry for that crap I said. Cause it’s not true.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not mad anymore.” She smiles wistfully and he thinks that either she really is a great performer, or that she’s pretending just so that she can climb into his bedroom window later tonight and murder him.
She turns to leave but stops herself. “Do you love her?”
Puck seriously blanks for a few seconds. But then he’s brought back to the reality that is his life. He stares at her like the psycho that she is.
“Who? Quinn???”
“Well, yeah…”
Berry looks stumped and he can’t help but to laugh.
“I see the things you do for her.”
“First of all, stop stalking us. And not that it ain’t obvious, but babies are freakin’ expensive. I’m just helping her out cause y’know… it’s my baby too.”
He doesn’t ask her about what happened with Finn. She doesn’t seem hung up about it and personally, he’s not interested in knowing all the details. There are just some things that he could live without knowing.
But she seems fascinated by the baby, his baby, as she coos over the most recent ultrasound photo shoved in his wallet. They talk for almost half an hour on the curb.
--
The shoebox of mementos is a harsh reminder to the ache in his chest. He considers burning it and everything inside but can’t bring himself to do it.
As much as he wants to fight it - it ain’t happening.
He wants a good life for his baby… the baby. And there’s some hopeful couple out there who’s got their shit together and more than able to raise a kid. Not a pair of dumbass seventeen-year-olds who would rather have nothing to do with each other.
He did okay without his dad so he is pretty sure this little one will too.
--
The graduation ceremony is boring, hot as hell, and Puck’s nightmare.
At one point, he just has to avoid staring into the audience at all since people like the Fabrays, Carole Hudson, Santana’s abuela, and a couple of his classmates’ moms are present. It’s especially hard to look at his own mother.
But then Rachel fucking Berry catches his eye in the mass of people, standing up on a chair in the back and waving like a lunatic. So when he’s not falling asleep or staring into space, his line of sight always returns to her.