My Musical Soulmate - M - Puck/Rachel - Part Six
Title: You Are The One, The Only (My Musical Soulmate)
Category: Glee
Genre: Drama/Romance/Humor
Ship: Puck/Rachel
Rating: Mature/NC-17
Prompt: 'School Secretary!Rachel and high school senior Puck.' by darlingemory - puckrachel drabble me (part 9, page 75)
Word Count: 8,271
Overall Status: Complete
Summary: Mild-mannered, high school secretary, Rachel Berry thought she wanted to live a safe, easy, drama-free life. High school senior Noah Puckerman blew that idea right out of the water. Denial can only last so long.
Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V,
You Are The One, The Only (My Musical Soulmate)
-Novel-
VI.
All in all, Santana didn't think three weeks was that long to put her plan in motion. If she maybe got distracted by Brittany, a lot, so what. The point was, she was taking apart the Puck mystery one piece at a time and eventually she'd bring it all down on their heads.
Plan A.
She walked down the halls with a sway to her hips. She was wearing one of her favorite dresses; it made her already bangin' body look extra curvy and her legs even longer. Her eyes narrowed as they zeroed in on him.
She leaned back against the bank of lockers next to him, back arched just enough to emphasize her best assets.
"Hey, Puckerman…" She smirked at him, reaching out to drag her finger down the v-neck of his shirt, long nail scraping lightly at his tanned skin.
Puck, brows furrowed, flicked her hand away absently. "What's up, Lopez?" Turning back to his locker, he started putting his books away. Since when did he even go to classes?
Her lips pursed at his brush-off, but she wasn't hindered any. "I'm bored and there's a closet free two halls over. You in?"
He paused, turned his head, and raised an eyebrow. "Uh… what?"
Her lips, painted a sultry red, curled at the corners. "You… Me… Closet." Reaching past him, she closed his locker with a bang before she leaned into him and let her arm fall around his shoulder, fingers dragging down the back of his 'hawk. The bristly feel of his hair under her palm was a familiar feeling, though she hadn't done it in years. And she much preferred Brittany's blonde tresses, but she was on a mission.
"Whoa…" He pressed a hand to her hip and pushed her back a few inches. "What're you doing?" He stared at her searchingly.
For a moment, shock flitted across her face. "What's it look like?"
He blinked a few times, confusion making his forehead wrinkle. "San, you're with Brittany…" he reminded.
She rolled her eyes. "Since when do you care who anybody's with?"
She wasn't really planning on taking Puck anywhere anyway. She just wanted to prove a point.
Gripping the front of his shirt, she dragged him forward until they were face to face. She tipped her head, letting her hair fall over her shoulders, curling and resting attractively against her enhanced cleavage. "What's a matter, Pucky-Puck? You've gotta be hurting for play since Fabray and Hudson started hooking up again…" Her lip curled in derision at the Inns before fading into a sensual smirk. She nodded her head a little and suggested, "Let Sanny make it better, hm…?"
"Not interested," he said simply, before drawing back from her and frowning. "I dunno what happened with you and Britt, but…" He turned her around and gave her ass a pat. "Go fix it." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Santana scowled.
She didn't know if she should be proud that her plan worked or pissed that he'd actually turned her down.
Sure, she wasn't actually going to sleep with him. Please, she had Brittany; she didn't need Puck grunting in her ear when she had sweet lady kisses waiting on her. But still! It was the principle of the matter! Nobody turned down Santana Lopez.
.o.
They were having breakfast for dinner, or something like that. He hadn't showered from a shift at Hummel Tires yet, but he was hungry. They were tired of take-out and neither of them really felt like shopping, so she'd looked through her cupboards and eventually found what she needed to make vegan waffles from scratch. And seriously, he thought it'd taste like twice-baked shit, but it was awesome. She even had fresh blueberries and strawberries to put on top. His girlfriend was the best!
"These are better than Eggo's," Puck told her through a mouthful, sawing away at the steaming hot waffle she placed on top of what was left of the other two he'd polished off.
She grinned at him. "While I don't usually think frozen anything is comparable in the first place, I'm going to take that as a compliment."
He nodded. "I love Eggo's…" It got him thinking and he sat back suddenly, his brow furrowed. "Used to get in fights at Juvie for 'em…"
She looked at him over her shoulder, her lips pursed. "You were there a few weeks, weren't you?"
His jaw ticked, eyes falling to his plate. "Yeah… Three shitty weeks of hell." He stuffed his mouth full of another bite and chewed, glaring at the table. "Stupid," he muttered, licking syrup from his lip. "Don't even know why I did it."
Rachel walked back to the table and took a seat across from him. "From what you told me, you were pretty messed up after Beth, Noah…" She stared at him searchingly. "And, you know, as much as you hated it, maybe it was what you needed." She lifted a shoulder. "You worked harder to become a better version of yourself after that, didn't you? I mean, yes…" She frowned. "The fear of going back must've been terrible…" She smiled encouragingly. "But in the end, it was what reminded you each day that it was better if you did the right thing, if you thought about the consequences beforehand."
"Yeah…" He shrugged. "Still…" His eyes widened. "They ripped my piercing out, babe… It still hurts sometimes."
She smiled slowly. "Yes, well…" She exchanged her chair in for a seat in his lap. "Since you re-pierced it…" She slid a hand down to rub his pec accordingly, "I think you'll be okay."
He smirked up at her and wiggled his eyebrows. "Nah, I think you should kiss it better."
Rachel laughed, her head falling back. "Maybe after dinner…" She winked at him and stood from his lap to walk back to the waffle-maker. "And after you've showered."
"Or during my shower," he suggested.
She smiled back at him.
And he, of course, got his way.
Not that she was complaining any.
.o.
Plan B.
"I call bullshit."
Quinn raised an eyebrow at the Latina girl standing behind her in the mirror as she touched up her lip gloss. "Did you leave a message?"
She rolled her eyes before walking past her and hopping up onto the counter, crossing her legs and peering down at Quinn with a curled lip. "You and Dough-Boy have been doing the nasty for months… Which means Puckerman hasn't been getting between those varicose veined legs like you two said at Regionals…" She shook her head. "So I get why he's covering up, but why are you?"
Quinn scoffed, not the least bit intimidated. "What do you care, Santana?" She turned her gaze back to her reflection and fixed her hair. "You've got Brittany… Who cares who Puck spends his time with?"
She shoved off the counter and glared. "I worked my ass off in this club, all right, Mommy Thighs?" She shook her head. "I'm not letting him and his overindulged libido get us kicked out of Nationals…" Her eyes narrowed. "So fess up, Fabray. You and Puckerman weren't hooking up, were you?"
Quinn zipped her purse and turned toward her, hip cocked, a dark smirk turning up her lips. "I know loyalty is a foreign concept to you, but listen to me closely…" She leaned in toward her and said, very slowly, "Leave. Puck. Alone." She shook her head, her eyebrows hiked. "I don't care who he sleeps with and neither should you… He's smart enough not to get caught and all you're doing is stirring up trouble." She walked past her, bumping her shoulder as she went. "Remember that when it blows up in your face," she called back.
Santana turned to glare at the door as it swung closed with a snap.
Yet another hollow victory.
Yes, this proved she was right and Puck wasn't rocking any beds with Q, but it was also an unfortunate talking-down to all the same. So what if what Quinn said made sense; Puckerman should know better than to lie to her by now. And even if nobody wanted to admit it, if Puck's little tryst with the secretary came out, Sylvester would pitch a fit and throw the ethics book in their faces until they were the last group Nationals would ever let set foot in NYC. And he best believe Santana was getting her ass to New York! She didn't work this hard, this long, not to. No prissy little secretary was going to get in her way.
.o.
Puck woke to Rachel's mouth swallowing him.
"Fuck!" His heels dug into the mattress as he fought the urge to thrust up into her mouth. He was already down her throat; he could feel it closing around him every time she swallowed.
His hands tangled in her hair, locking long, dark curls around his fingers.
She drew up, her hands wrapping around his shaft and twisting in opposite directions as she sucked at the head, her tongue swiping back and forth, swirling. He reached past her hair to her shoulders, squeezing, kneading her soft skin.
"Rachel-Rachel-Ra-Fuck." He shook his head, breath stuttering from his mouth as she started planting sucking kisses down the underside of his shaft, her hands falling lower, smoothing her thumbs in circles behind his balls.
She nipped at the crease of his hip before dragging her tongue flat against it soothingly.
He looked down at her, naked and beautiful, kneeling between his legs, her hair a tangled mess, her lips swollen and red. As she swallowed him back down her throat, her eyes rose up and met his from beneath long, dark lashes. She stroked him with one hand, every bit of him that wasn't being sucked between her hollowed cheeks and down her fluttering throat.
She kept him on edge, his eyes screwed shut and chest heaving with each panted breath. He was babbling shit that didn't make sense and her name, repeatedly. Before finally she held a long, humming note, and he arched off the bed, coming hard. She patted his stomach as she sat back and swallowed, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. "Morning," she said brightly before hopping off the bed and walking to her bathroom, cute little ass bouncing.
He laughed when he heard her electric toothbrush start up.
When his legs stopped shaking, he climbed off her bed and joined her, grabbing her around the waist, grinning as she squealed in laughter, and bringing her to the shower with him where he could return the favor.
.o.
Plan C.
"But I like them."
Santana frowned. "Yeah, I know, but Britt, this is important." She reached for her, hand on her hip, thumb rubbing under her shirt to the soft skin beneath. "All you've gotta do is get her to sign something…" She stared at her searchingly. "Can you do that?"
Brittany turned her eyes away before pursing her lips in a pout. "But she's nice and she always asks about Lord Tubbington and Puck is happy and I think we should just let him have his Brittany."
Santana's brows furrowed. "His what?"
"You're girl-Puck and Miss. Berry is Puck's shiny unicorn… Or bi-corn. I don't know." She smiled. "She's pretty."
Shaking her head, Santana took her hand and silently hoped her girlfriend would focus. "Listen, you wanna win Nationals, right?"
Brittany nodded.
"Okay, then… Just get Secretary Sex-Scandal's John Hancock, all right?"
She blinked. "I thought she was a girl."
"Her signature, Britt. Just get her to sign something, anything."
"Even my boobs?"
"No. Not-Not your boobs, okay?" She rolled her eyes. "We talked about that. Only San plays with the goodies."
Brittany smiled before twirling back and forth at the hips. "Okay, but I want a lady-kiss."
Santana grinned. "You can have two."
.o.
"What're you doing here?"
Puck turned around at the familiar voice. Hands in his pockets as he waited boredly in the parking lot, he frowned at the sudden appearance of his girlfriend. "Uh, it's Temple, whattya think I'm doin'?"
Rachel rolled her eyes. "I thought you went to the other temple…" She shook her head meaningfully.
"Oh, yeah, no." He shrugged. "My ma and sister do. My nana comes here though." He pointed his thumb back at the synagogue. "I like to go with her sometimes."
"She-She isn't nearby, is she?" Rachel started fiddling with her clothes, smoothing them out as though they were wrinkled, which they weren't. Her eyes darted to and fro. "I'm not even wearing make-up," she muttered.
"You look hot," he encouraged.
Rachel blew out an exasperated breath. "Noah, I hardly think your nana cares if I look hot."
He shrugged. "Nana Connie would like you."
"Really?" she worried.
"Yeah." He nodded, grinning. "You're Jewish and you've never been arrested. You also don't sleep around and didn't have my baby at sixteen; so really, you've got top marks so far."
She laughed, shaking her head at him.
"Who's this?" a sharp voice interrupted.
Rachel's eyes widened as she went very still. When she turned her head, it was to find a stern looking woman gauging her with hawk eyes that looked very much like Noah's, aside from that fact that his always gazed at her with affection and attraction. This woman, with her grey hair tightly wound in a bun on her head, and her lips pursed, looked more like someone who wanted very much to crush her like a tiny, bothersome bug.
"Uh, this is Miss. Berry. She's a secretary at McKinley."
"You're Jewish?" she asked shrewdly.
"Nana," Puck laughed. "She's at Temple. S'not like she snuck in 'cause she was bored."
"Don't back-talk," Connie snipped.
Rachel fidgeted. "I- Yes, I'm Jewish," she replied. "It's nice to meet you, ma'am."
Connie looked her up and down, lips still pursed. "Nice child-rearing hips this one." She reached out and squeezed her side. "Too skinny though." She raised her eyes to her once more. "You're a smart girl, Miss Berry?"
"I-I am." She nodded. "Top of my class."
"And just a secretary?" she wondered, brow quirked.
Rachel took offense. "I happen to enjoy my job! And I think it's rude to assume that just because I didn't take my education to a level where I might be paid more or appreciated better that my job is anything to scoff at. I supply a service that is necessary, ma'am." She put her hands to her 'child-rearing' hips and lifted her chin stubbornly.
"I like this one," Connie decided. "She's got chutzpah." She shook her head. "Not like that shiksa you knocked up."
"Nana!" he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Hush, bubbala," she said dismissively. "It was a compliment."
"Oh, I… I work at Noah's school. He was only being cordial," Rachel interrupted, shaking her head.
Connie looked at her with an amused sort of smile. "That's my Noah," she said, shaking her head. "So cordial, this one."
Rachel glanced at him, frowning. But he shrugged, he really couldn't argue that; polite wasn't usually in his vocabulary.
"Well, I'm off. I have Bridge with the ladies tonight." Connie nodded at her in farewell before turning to Noah and tapping her cheek.
Half-smiling, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
With a clap to his shoulder, she waved her hands. "Thank you for coming out tonight. Now go. Gay avek. Keep this young lady thinking you're good and polite." She wagged a finger at him. "Husband material, bubbala." She nodded at him before looking once more at a now blushing Rachel, and then finally walked off, meeting up with a group of gossiping older ladies.
"Well, that was… awkward," Rachel sighed, shifting foot to foot.
"Yeah, but she's got the right idea." He winked at her. "Whattya say I meet you at home? I'll pick up a movie or something."
"That'd be lovely." She turned on her heel and then paused to look back at him. "Noah, I'm not too skinny am I?"
Puck tipped his head, grinning at her. "You're perfect."
She smiled softly, ducking her head so her hair fell over her flushed cheeks. "Forget the movie," she told him. "Just bring you."
So he did.
.o.
She laid on her back, sideways across her bed in nothing but his t-shirt, her head propped atop her arm.
He was sprawled out, back against the headboard, wearing his unbuttoned jeans, his 'hawk askew, guitar in his lap, legs crossed at the ankle, bare feet moving along with the beat.
She watched his long fingers move along the strings; he had such beautiful hands.
As his voice reached out, her eyes moved up to his face, watching his lips.
There was hope…
There was faith…
He licked his lips, head shaking.
There was truth but I just couldn't get it…
His eyes met hers, lips quirked in a smile.
Now there's love in my life,
Can't let it go I just won't let it…
He tipped his head, his brow furrowed deeply.
Change has played its part…
He closed his eyes and his voice touched her so deeply in her heart that it ached.
And it's healed my wounded heart…
She inhaled deeply and watched as his expression followed his lyrics; this song that he penned especially for her.
A song that moved him and touched him and spoke of things he had a hard time verbalizing.
All I wanna do…
Alll I wanna be…
All I wanna feel is somethin' real…
His eyes met hers and her hand fell against her chest, gripping the fabric that sat above her heart.
I want to believe…
That everything I do…
From here on out will be…
His hand paused against his guitar and just his voice filled her ears.
With you…
As he started strumming again, Rachel turned over and crawled up the bed.
His legs parted and lifted and she knelt between them, resting her chin on his upturned knee.
He stared down at her, his fingers moving a little quicker against his guitar.
Here with you…
I feel safe…
And I know this is just the beginning…
For so long I was lost,
Now it feels I'm finally winning…
As he broke out in the chorus again, Rachel swayed, taking his leg along with her, letting her eyes fall to half-mass and a smile curve her lips.
She watched his fingers, moving quicker, moving so intricately and intimately across the strings.
His voice, deeper, stronger, drew her eyes to his face.
I wouldn't mind…
I could love you for the rest of my life…
Rachel swallowed tightly at the sincerity in his face.
Cause all I wanna do…
All I wanna be…
All I wanna feel is somethin' real…
I want to believe
That everything I do…
From here on out it's gonna be…
It's gonna be with you…
His eyes never left hers as he finished out the last of the song.
It's gonna be with you…
Now that I found you…
I'm never gonna let you go,
Never gonna let you go away…
You're mine…
I need you…
Yeah, oh, I need you,
I love you, I do…
Yeah, no, no-ooo…
Finally, he let his fingers dance over the last few strings and sound faded away.
Rachel felt silly that she was so emotional, but her eyes stung and her heart felt like it was thick in her throat.
She climbed up the bed, hands falling to either side of his hips, pressing down against the mattress and holding her up as she leaned across his guitar to him. Her mouth slanted over his, slowly, deeply. He slid the guitar out from between them and drew her up closer, her knees sliding over his legs and straddling his waist.
"I love you," she said against his mouth, kissing him before he could reply. "I love you, Noah." She slid her hands around his neck and curled her fingers in the end of his 'hawk. He slid his hands, rough and warm, up her back, beneath the cover his t-shirt. He stripped it up and off her and tossed it away before his fingers were walking over her skin, tracing the line of her back and the soft curves at her sides.
And when he laid her back on the bed and he sunk inside her, her breath caught and their eyes met, and she wondered if it would be too much to ask that she always have this feeling; this love in her life; this man.
Apparently, it was.
.o.
Plan C (Part 2)
Brittany bounced into the office with a bright smile.
"Hey Miss. Berry," she said, before dropping a notebook in front of her on top of the counter.
"Hello Brittany," Rachel replied, standing from her desk. "And how may I help you today?"
"Do you have anything that might get my cat off ecstasy?" she wondered, brow furrowed prettily.
Rachel blinked. "I… No, I… Unfortunately, I can't say I do…" She rested her chin in her hand. "How is Lord Tubbington though? Aside from his apparent drug addiction, I mean."
Brittany's eyes fell. "Well, he's put on a lot of weight and he's losing patches of fur and he's been very cranky lately. But I think that might be because I put him on a diet. Only three pixie sticks a day." She sighed. "It'd be difficult for anyone."
Rachel nodded very slowly. "I'm sure it would be."
She brightened. "Will you sign my notebook?" she wondered.
Rachel looked down at the book and then back at her. "I'm sorry?"
"Puck already signed all the cracks." She opened the book to show her Noah's familiar writing of, "Signed your crack," down the center of every single page. That man put a lot of attention on odd things sometimes, she had to admit. Still, she smiled. Even his peculiarities were unusually adorable.
"And may I ask why you're taking signatures?" she wondered.
Brittany shrugged. "I don't want to wait for Yearbooks."
Rachel nodded. While she didn't really think it was necessary, it was Brittany, and if she'd learned anything about the flighty but friendly blonde, it was that she had lived her life according to her own set of logic. She couldn't fault her for it. So, she turned the book around and signed with a flourish.
"I hope Lord Tubbington pulls through.
It was a pleasure meeting you, Brittany.
I wish you all the best in your future endeavors!
Sincerely,
Miss. Berry*, secretary"
Brittany took it back with a smile. "Thanks."
"Absolutely." She lifted a brow. "Will there be anything else?"
She shook her head before turning and backing up. She paused at the door though and turned back to her with a very solemn, serious expression. "Puckleberry will pull through," she told her. "I know it."
And with that, the odd girl was gone, and Rachel was once again wondering what in the world she was talking about.
.o.
Santana stared at Brittany's notebook with narrowed eyes.
More importantly, she stared at the little star Berry signed her name with.
She held up the note she'd found of Puck's and compared the two.
And finally a very devious smile crossed her lips.
.o.
"Hey!" he said, appearing in her office suddenly.
Rachel smiled, twirling in her chair. "Hello."
"So guess what?" He flashed his eyebrows at her.
She tipped her head, long hair draped over her shoulder. "What?"
He shrugged. "It's kinda our eight month anniversary."
She raised a brow. "Noah, we got together on New Year's…"
"Yeah, but we met in September and I've been after you since then…" He paused, counting on his fingers to double check. "So, yeah, eight months."
She smiled. "Fine. I still say it's been three, but if you want to count technicalities..."
"Totally." He handed over his gift, wrapped in newspaper.
She stood from her seat, a curious smile tilting her lips. "What's this?"
He shrugged. "Happy Anniversary."
She reached out and plucked the tape off the middle. The paper parted and she reached inside to find a stack of lined sheet paper. Her brows furrowed until she read the top. Composed and Performed by: Noah Puckerman & Rachel Berry.
"Oh…" She looked up at him, stars in her eyes. "Noah, you… You didn't have to do this."
"This is me showing you that this is what I want." He tapped the top. "You'll be my partner, Rach… For singing and writing and just… In everything." He stared at her searchingly. "Okay?"
She gazed down at the paper with teary eyes. "Yes."
He grinned, and then, ignoring the fact that they were in a busy school, he leaned across and pecked her lips quickly. "To another awesome eight months, babe."
She pressed him back by his chest and shook her head, though a smile couldn't be helped. "You're going to get us caught."
He shrugged and started back out of the office.
She mouthed, Love you, and he winked at her in reply.
They were gonna make it.
He just knew it.
.o.
Rachel didn't know what to do or say when she looked up to see Santana Lopez staring at her.
"Can I help you?" she asked slowly, her heart seeming to slow in her chest.
The Latina had a very calculating look on her face; suspicious and possibly out for blood. While Rachel didn't know her well, she was sure that it was an apt description. It might have been colored by some of Noah's previous stories about his friends and various ex-girlfriends. If she remembered correctly, she believed he called Santana his 'loco' ex-friend with benefits, and she'd been the one to not so subtly point out that she thought something was different with Noah. Rachel was fairly sure Santana knew what that difference was, and wasn't so easily distracted by the decoy.
"Listen Yentl-" She paused. "Can I call you Yentl?"
Rachel frowned. "No, you can't."
She continued, completely ignoring her, "I don't know what perverse game you and Puckerman are playing, but I'm not letting his libido gets in the way of our Nationals win…" She stared at her darkly, brows heavy over his eyes. "Now I admit, maybe I was a little hasty going for a public reveal." She shrugged, drumming her blood red nails against the counter. "I like drama and I don't like being lied to." She raised a brow. "But I've thought it over… I'm not telling Shue or Figgins or Coach Sylvester." She shrugged a shoulder dismissively. "I won't even let the rest of the club in on this juicy little tale of high school porn…"
Rachel held her breath, staring at the girl with undisguised worry.
"But your little trip on the Puckerone Express ends here." She stabbed a finger down meaningfully. "¿Entiendes?"
"I-I don't know what it is you're trying to imply here…" Her eyes darted around, concerned somebody might overhear. "But I am not engaging in anything illicit with any student…"
"Listen Babs," she said, leaning forward with a snide smile. "Puck won't walk away from easy play, so you're gonna have to do the breaking up here… He thinks too much with his dick and he forgets that this little mistake between you two could cost us big…" She nodded. "So you're gonna break it to him simple-like. You're done." She stared at her seriously. "And if you don't, I'm gonna sacrifice Puck for the rest of us and you're gonna come out lookin' like a pedo-tary. Gots me?"
She swallowed tightly, staring searchingly until finally she closed her eyes and stiffly nodded her head.
"Good." Turning on her heel, Santana wiggled her fingers behind her in farewell and left the office, smug with her win.
Rachel quickly informed Principal Figgins that she needed to use the restroom, before sliding to the floor of the staff bathroom and sobbing into her hands for ten solid minutes straight.
.o.
Rachel paced her apartment, her hands wringing as she waited for them to pick up.
"Berry residence!" they chimed simultaneously. They sighed. "Leroy/Hiram, I got it. No, I have it. Ugh, you always do this!"
"Dads! Please," she asked, shaking her head. "I need to speak to both of you anyway."
"Rachel, honey!"
"What's wrong? Did something happen?"
"Shh, let her speak!"
"I am! Rachel, sweetie, talk to us."
"I just… I-I need…" She sniffled.
"That's it! I'm getting the keys!"
"I'll pack snacks for the ride!"
She laughed, rolling her eyes slightly. "No, no, it's okay… You don't have to come out here."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course she's not! Clearly she's hysterical!"
"Do you want us to bring you anything? Tea? Soup? Are you sick? We could bring your nana's quilt, if you want."
She inhaled deeply, taking comfort in their concern. "I'm not sick. I-I don't need you to come out here. I just… I feel that I need some advice."
"Oh… Okay."
"We're listening."
"Do you remember…?" She licked her trembling lips, reconsidering. "Okay, do you remember when I used to talk to you about a boy, a-a student, who was being very… charming and frequently asked me out on dates?"
"Of course, dear. Puck, wasn't it?"
"What an awful name. I hope you mentioned Midsummer's Night to him."
She giggled. "I did. He didn't care for the likeness."
"Well what happened? What did he do?"
"Nothing. He… He didn't do anything wrong. I… It was me," she said, brows furrowed. "I'm older. I'm the adult. I-I'm supposed to be in control and-and I'm the one who should've known better. I-" She shook her head, dropping her face as it crumbled emotionally. "Oh dads, I was so, so reckless and I… I screwed up. I just… I've never felt so…" She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. "He made me feel so…"
"What? What did he make you feel, Bunny?"
She inhaled deeply, shakily. "Loved." She sniffled. "An-And happy."
"Oh Rachel…" her daddy sighed knowingly.
"Tell us everything," Hiram encouraged.
She gulped deep breaths and sat down on her couch. "It-It was harmless at first… He just… He flirted and I-I was adamant that nothing could come of it. But he was there, every day, every morning, every lunch, and he just…" She leaned her head back, casting her eyes up as she sighed softly. "He talked and he listened and he remembered all of these sweet things; these little things… You know?"
She closed her eyes and felt tears dribble down her cheeks. "But I remained unmoved. I told myself that it was wrong; he was a student and I was the secretary and there was no way, no possible way, that it could be considered okay… And I-I tried dating. There was that very nice substitute teacher, you remember? But…" She rubbed her nose. "It wasn't the same. It wasn't… enough."
She swallowed tightly. "And then, he sent me this card, on Hanukkah, and all it said, a promise really, that he would make me happy… And I believed him. I… I risked it all. My job, my-my heart…" She swiped at her damp eyes. "I met him on New Year's and I knew I shouldn't have, but it was so…" She breathed out, lips curling in a smile. "It was so perfect. We sang together and I just-I felt alive for the first time in my life. Like I was meant to be on that stage, I was meant to be there with him… So I-I stopped questioning it. I told myself that something that felt that right couldn't be wrong. And we… We began a relationship. We-"
She blew out a breath and shook her head. "We kept it quiet, but… There's a girl, in his class, and she… She knows and she says that if I don't break up with him, if I don't stop this, she'll expose us… She'll tell everyone…" She licked her lips and sat forward. "And I know what the logical thing to do is. I do. But…"
"You love him."
She nodded, inhaling shakily. "I do. I really do." She rubbed her forehead, where her brows had knotted and were beginning to hurt. "I… I just need you to tell me- Just tell me that it's the right thing to do… Tell me to leave him."
"This boy… Rachel, how old is he?" Leroy wondered.
"Eighteen. But that… That doesn't excuse anything."
"Of course not. It-It's completely unprofessional of you."
She pressed a hand to her heart as it panged her for disappointing him.
"I know. I know it is. I-I'm so sorry," she cried. "Please, please don't hate me for this."
"Rachel, we could never-"
"-ever hate you."
She blew out a relieved breath, nodding to herself.
"And we can't tell you what to do here."
Her narrowed her eyes in confusion. "What? Why?"
"Because if we do, you're not making the decision yourself." Hiram sighed. "One day, you might look back at this and feel like we forced you to leave this boy, or man that you felt you loved… Or maybe you won't. But what's important is that you make this decision yourself. That you know what you do or don't do is right because you did it. Only you really know if this person is worth any of this… We don't know him. We don't know the whole story, because I'm sure you left things out… And we appreciate that."
She laughed.
"Rachel, I think you know what the right thing to do would be. And I think you'll do it in the end. I just hope that whatever you choose, you're happy in the end."
She nodded. "Okay… I-I will be. I promise."
"Now, are you sure you don't want us to come out? I can bring Nana's quilt, some movies, a bottle of wine. Oh, we could make a weekend of it!"
"It's Wednesday," Leroy reminded him.
"Hush. Our daughter needs us. If I want to take a weekend in the middle of the week, I will!"
Rachel chuckled. "Thank you both. But I don't think it'll be necessary."
"If you change your mind, you call us!"
She smiled. "I will."
"We love you!"
"Love you, bunny!"
"Love you too. I'll talk to you again soon. Okay. Bye."
Hanging her phone up, Rachel buried her face in her hands and took a long, deep breath.
Wiping her face clear of tears, she knew what she had to do. And she stood with a heavy heart to do just that.
.o.
Puck frowned when she opened the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and she looked like she'd been crying.
"The hell's wrong?" he asked, reaching out for her.
She shook her head, her lips trembling, and, not saying a word, she simply wrapped her arms around his neck. He walked her back into her apartment, closing the door behind him.
It was a school night, which meant he couldn't stay over, but he still had a few hours before his curfew.
Rachel's fingers dragged down his 'hawk and though her body was shaking and she was still sniffling, she pressed her mouth to his neck, just beneath his ear.
"I want you," was all she said.
It was enough.
He didn't know what was wrong but if this would make it better, he'd do it. And yeah, it wasn't like it'd be hard for him. But he was also shit with crying chicks, so he was kind of relieved that this was her answer. 'Cause he could do this and not fuck it up.
He carried her back to her bedroom and settled her down on the bed as he worked to get her out of her little pencil skirt and her flowery blouse. They hit the floor along with her bra and her thong, until she was kneeling on the bed in nothing. She reached for him and dragged him closer by his shirt. His hands smoothed over her hips and down to cup her ass, squeezing and kneading.
Puck loved foreplay. He loved spending a long time just exploring her. Rachel had miles and miles of soft skin and he loved to touch and kiss and drag his teeth over every damn part. Only she wasn't interested in that now. She stripped his shirt off him and worked at his jeans, shoving them down his hips, quick and fast. Suddenly, he was on the bed and she was the one doing all the exploring. And when he tried to turn the tables, she distracted him.
He didn't get it. She was the one hurting, he thought she wanted him to make her feel better; to touch her and stroke her and lick her until she was screaming his name and whatever was hurting her was the last thing on her mind. But her lips were charting a path from his ribs down his stomach, nose nuzzling every ridge of his abdomen, tongue tracing his hip bones, teeth grazing, nipping. And her hands were rubbing along his chest, fingers curling, lightly tickling his ribs before sliding higher, thumb flicking and playing with his nipple ring.
She'd done this before; she'd spent hours playfully searching his whole body for places he was ticklish or just hell bent on kissing every damn inch of him. And that'd been fun and lighthearted and seriously hot at some points. But this felt hurried and thick with something else, something she wasn't telling him. He wanted to push her for information, for what was bugging her. But then she had his dick in her mouth and he fucking forgot. Rachel was talented and she didn't have a gag reflex so sometimes he was just in awe of her. Well, more than usual anyway.
When she straddled his waist and sunk down on him, having already rolled the condom on herself, he was stuck in that mindless state of just wanting and needing to fuck and be fucked. He forgot to worry, to wonder. Instead he focused on gripping her hips in his hands and encouraging her to move as she lifted up on her knees, fluttering and clutching at him, wet and hot and so damn tight. Her nails scraped at his stomach, dug into his forearms; she clawed at him as she rode him. At some point, she was leaning across him, a change of angle bringing her closer to climax, and she dug her nails in so deep at his chest, she drew a few spots of blood. He was too gone to care at the time. Later, he'd think it was kind of hot.
She let him take over after she came the first time, crying out hoarsely, her movements becoming sharp and out of sync, her head thrown back and her mouth left wide open.
She let him push her back onto the bed and take her tits into his mouth, teeth and tongue paying extra attention to her stiff little nipples, swirling and sucking and plucking until she was pulling him closer and pushing him away at the same time.
She didn't fight for dominance when he drew her knees up to her chest as he knelt, sliding in and out of her, hard and deep. She just held on and pleaded, "Harder, Noah. Harder."
And when she was right on the edge and he pulled out, he smirked as she cursed, her hands clutching the blanket beneath her. And then his mouth was on her, tongue stroking, nose pressing against her clit, lips suckling. He teased her, chuckling when her fingers yanked at what little hair he had, knees clamping around his head. He sunk two fingers inside her and moved them nice and slow as he licked her all around, drawing circles and words and his name against her folds.
When she couldn't take it anymore, he drilled his tongue inside her and rubbed her clit with his thumb. And when she came, spilling into his mouth, he wiped his face on her stomach and slid up the bed, sliding back inside her. She cried out, her hands clutching at his hips. Her face said she was somewhere between pleasure and pain, maybe a little too sensitive, but then she wrapped her legs around him and pressed her lips to his. She rocked her hips and bit his lip, dragging her nails down his back until he started moving again.
His mouth was buried at her neck when he came, teeth scraping against her collar bone. She wasn't far behind him, breathing his name out as she arched off the bed and clenched all around him.
For a long time, he couldn't move. His cheek was stuck to her shoulder, sweaty and slick, and his whole damn body was just dead. Limp and tired and exhausted. Eventually though, he managed to drag himself off her. He tossed the condom away and cleaned up in the bathroom. She was lying exactly where he'd left her, her arm tossed over her face. Her body was tensed though, her chest heaving jaggedly like she was trying not to cry.
"Rach?"
She shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she wiped at her face quickly and offered him a broken smile.
He laid back down on the bed with her and drew her over to him. She fell against him, her arm wrapping around his waist. But she didn't tell him what the hell was wrong. Instead, she pressed a few sloppy kisses to his chest and then buried her face there. "Just hold me," she asked.
So he did; he stroked her hair and her back and he rubbed her shoulders until she drifted off.
He fell asleep not long after.
Only to be woken up a little while later when Rachel wanted another round.
She still wasn't telling him anything, but she kept him going until long after his curfew had come and gone.
The last time, before he eventually had to climb out of her bed and get home so his ma wouldn't tear his head off, was slow. It wasn't hard and desperate. It was more like the first time they were together.
She made love with him.
Even if she was still sad, still a little broken, she held on to him and moved with him and filled in all the long, slow pauses with lingering, deep kisses. She let him have his fun then, exploring her body, kissing her from the tip of her toes to the backs of her knees to the ticklish spot on her ribs and up, up, to her neck and her lips, her nose, her eyelids, behind her ears, the nape of her neck, the pads of her fingers, the small of her back, all of her.
And when he left her room, she was curled up and snoring softly, her hair a crazy, tangled mess, her face buried in her pillow. She was beautiful, wrapped in a white sheet, one of her long, bare legs lying atop it. He almost didn't care what his ma might do to him, wanting to stick around and wake up with her. But it was late and he had to drop Becca off at school before heading to his own. So he dragged his tired body out the door and told himself he'd find out what was wrong tomorrow. And he wouldn't let her distract him then.
.o.
Puck knew Santana's smirk could only mean bad things.
And since she was directing it at him whenever possible, he was worried.
When she sauntered over to him, he waited for the fall out. "What d'you want?" he grunted.
She smiled. "Me? Nothing. But since you're not sobbing in a corner, I guess she either didn't mean much or she's hoping I won't follow through and still hasn't cut the cord…" She raised a brow. "So? How's your girlfriend, Pucky Puck?"
He frowned. "I told you… Me and Quinn were casual. She's with Hudson now."
Santana rolled her eyes dismissively. "Don't feed me that bull. I know you've been plucking the secretary's berry."
He waved a hand, shushing her. "Hey, whoa, keep it down."
She scoffed. "Since when do you care who hears about your epic scoring?" She snorted. "The secretary, Puck? I mean, sure, she has a sweet, innocent, big schnozzed appeal… And yeah, getting it on right under Figgin's nose, almost getting caught is always hot. But risking the club like that?" She shook her head, brows furrowed angrily. "If Coach Sylvester found out, she'd find a way to use it against us. At the very least she'd get you kicked out of our club, if not expelled…" She stared at him searchingly. "We need you to win Nationals. Not only to pad our roster, but because you can actually sing… And now that you're writing one of our songs for us, we need you even more. Is this chick really worth all that?"
He licked his lips. "Listen… I love Glee, okay? And everybody in there is my friend. I want us to win Nationals and I wanna rub it in all these douchtards faces that we rock…" He shook his head. "But if anybody should get why this, why Rachel, matters to me this much, it's you."
She raised a brow, confused.
"San… Before Brittany, you were just like me… But she made you better," he reminded. "She made you happy…"
"You're comparing Britt to your little fling with the secretary?"
"It's not a fling," he said seriously. "What I feel when I'm with her isn't like anything I've ever felt with anybody else…" He reached out and squeezed her shoulders, drawing her eyes to his. "San, you've known me practically my whole life…" He hiked his brows meaningfully. "I love her."
Slowly, Santana's angry, disbelieving expression began to fade. Her eyes fell and she finally sighed. "I can't believe I'm doing this…" Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she lifted her chin and said, "Fine. Tell your little midget I won't rat her out; she can call off the dumping."
His brows furrowed. "What?"
She rolled her eyes. "I stopped by the office yesterday to chat with the hobbit and tell her that if she didn't drop your ass, I was gonna out her to the school." She shrugged. "Apparently she wanted to see if I was bluffing. I wasn't. But since you're being a sap and I get the feeling you'd ditch us at Nationals for her, I'm waving the white flag." She waved a hand around dismissively. "Word to the wise though, you might wanna cut down on the PDA and singing those god-awful love songs in glee, or others might start to notice how nauseatingly whipped you are."
Nodding, Puck started backing up. "I gotta go."
"You're welcome," Santana shouted after him. "Desagradecido pendejo!"
Ignoring her, he raced through the hallway, dodging students, bumping into a few, before he finally stumbled into the office. His heart was beating hard in his chest as he walked to the counter. He saw dark hair and breathed a sigh of relief, but the person who turned around to greet him wasn't Rachel. Same general build, but older.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Ra-" He caught himself and ground his teeth. "Miss. Berry? Usual secretary… Where's she at? I need to talk to her."
"I'm a temp," she said, shrugging. "I was hired until they find a replacement. Last secretary quit."
Rapidly, Puck's face fell, his heart lodging in his stomach, hard and heavy. For a second, he actually thought he might upchuck.
"Can I help you?"
"No."
Shaking his head, his heart pounding in his ears, he turned on his heel and left the office. Not thinking about the rest of school, he walked right out the doors and jogged across the parking lot to his truck. He ignored Finn who was shouting after him. He ignored everything. Desperately, he sped down the road, destination Rachel's apartment.
.o.
Rachel listened to the angry buzzing of her comm. from where she sat at her laptop. She flinched the first two times he jabbed it and closed her eyes at the long, shrill cry for attention that followed.
"Rachel!" he shouted outside, and she knew if she looked out her window, she would see him. And he would be hurt and angry and scared. She couldn't face that.
"I know you're home!"
This is right thing to do, she told herself.
It's right.
It's right.
It's right.
She would find another job. One where she wouldn't fall in love with the wrong person. Where she wouldn't risk anything. Something safe and easy. Something that made sense. Not a young musician that made her forget all of her sadness, all of the unfulfilling details of her everyday life. A man whose touch made her feel more alive than anything she'd ever known. A man whose voice touched her soul and her heart and woke them up after a lifetime of avoiding them.
"I'm not giving up on you!" he yelled. "Santana's gonna keep her trap shut, I promise, okay? Just please-Please, answer the door."
She tucked her earbuds in and turned up her music until her ears ached with it.
It's right, she lied to herself.
[To be continued: Part VII.]