My Musical Soulmate - M - Puck/Rachel - Part Eight [2/2]
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: 11,977
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.
[First Half.]
Puck was going over the lyrics to a new song in his head, sitting on her couch.
"What do you think about going to Benny's tonight?" she asked him from her bedroom, plucking an earring out from the trinket box he'd got her for Hanukah and sticking it in her ear as she sat at her dresser.
He picked at a hole in his jeans and shrugged. "Sure. What time d'you wanna meet there?"
"Actually, I think we should just take your truck."
He paused. "You wanna drive in together?"
"It wouldn't be the first time," she reminded.
He snorted. "Yeah, but you were always wearing a wig when we were still in city limits."
She rolled her eyes. "So I was overdramatic…" She stood from her dresser and walked to her closet. "I'll leave the wig at home and we can take your truck in. Unless you'd like to take my car…?"
He frowned, shaking his head. "Nah, my truck's better."
"Debatable," she answered.
He was about to list all the ways his truck was boss when she walked into the living room in a killer pair of heels, a short purple dress, and holding a box as she grinned at him.
He was still trying to form a decent thought when she handed him the box. "Here. Lucky number five."
He took it more out of instinct than anything, eyes glued to her tight little body packed in her pretty dress, her long legs on display.
"Aren't you going to open it?" she asked, before taking a seat on her coffee table in front of him.
He cleared his throat and forced his eyes down to the box in his lap.
Popping the top, he reached inside to find two microphones. One was covered in pink crystals; way too sparkly for him.
"That one's mine," she explained, taking it out of the white tissue paper beneath it. "I don't even want to think about the bacteria probably collected by various, anonymous singers getting up to sing on each stage, so I thought it only made sense that we have our own…" She reached inside and took out his checkered black and silver, cordless mic; simple, sleek, perfect.
She turned it over and pointed with her finger to a metal square with his initials engraved on it; N.P.
"I thought maybe tonight we could test them out…" she suggested, eyebrows hiked.
He stared down at the mic in his hand, and the glittery one in hers. And his heart thumped hard in his chest.
She was taking it seriously.
She wasn't just trying to get him back and smooth things over.
She wanted him and she wanted the open road and music.
Licking his lips, he nodded.
"Yeah," he told her, tapping the mouthpiece of her mic with his own. "I got just the song."
She beamed.
.o.
Benny's was pretty dead, but it was a Wednesday, so Puck wasn't surprised. There were a few people playing pool or darts, a few more drinking at the bar or at a table here or there.
It wasn't open mic night, but the bartender was a good guy and didn't mind them singing. He'd heard them a few times and although he'd heard some real headaches in his time, he liked them.
The song Puck had picked out for them was better with piano, but since the guy who usually played on open mic night wasn't around, he figured he'd just have to work with what they had; his guitar.
Rachel grinned at the crowd as they climbed the stage and set up their mics.
She'd been memorizing the lyrics on the drive over and she was excited for them to sing together again.
And even Puck had to admit he was pretty psyched for it too. There was something about being up on a stage - even if it was in front of a pretty bare bar - that struck a chord in him. This was always where he was meant to be. Not college, not in a classroom or a stuffy office. It was up here, under a spotlight, mic in front of him, guitar in his lap, and this songstress at his side.
Rachel looked beautiful under the lights; she looked like she was in her element.
And he remembered suddenly that first day he'd seen her, standing in the office at McKinley, looking way too happy for so early in the morning. Friendly and excited and happy to help. And he loved that about her; even though he'd rather sleep in 'til noon and wasn't always the nicest guy around. He loved that Rachel was the opposite in a lot of ways. Like that, he loved that she fit into this scene too. She fit in on this stage; she looked even more at ease, happier.
She looked at him, her smile stretching her lips so wide he wondered if it hurt. She tucked her hair behind her ear and she wrapped a hand around her sparkly pink mic before she nodded at him to begin.
And he chuckled a little under his breath at her eagerness.
He plucked the strings, nodding his head as he caught the beat.
Rachel took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
And when her voice reached out, there was a moment where his heart kind of clenched, because damn… He'd never heard anything more beautiful.
Lyin' here with you so close to me…
Her brows furrowed and she tipped her head, hair slipping over her shoulder.
It's hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe…
She opened her eyes and turned her head just enough to look at him.
I'm caught up in this moment,
Caught up in your smile…
He stared at her, eyebrows hiked, lifting his chin as he sang his part.
I've never opened up to anyone…
So hard to hold back when I'm holding you in my arms…
Their voices melded together then and his lips hiked in a half-smile.
We don't need to rush this,
let's just take it slow…
She rocked her shoulders back and forth as they sang the chorus, his fingers dancing over the strings a little faster.
Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight,
Just a touch of the fire burning so bright…
Her fingers flexed on the mic as she looked at him sincerely.
And I don't want to mess this thing up,
No, I don't want to push too far…
The crowd was paying attention now.
He noticed even the big guy at the pool table had stopped playing to look over.
Just a shot in the dark that you just might,
Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life,
So baby, I'm alright with just a kiss goodnight…
Taking her mic from the stand, Rachel turned to sing directly at him.
I know that if we give this a little time,
It'll only bring us closer to the love we wanna find…
It's never felt so real…
He shook his head, joining her.
No, it's never felt so right…
She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, turning back toward the crowd as they sang the chorus again, her fingers tapping along with the beat.
Puck noticed a few of the women swaying. And a couple had gotten out on the dance floor to swing each other around.
The beat picked up as the chorus ended.
No, I don't want to say goodnight…
Puck watched her from the corner of his eyes, ignoring the crowd entirely.
I know it's time to leave…
But you'll be in my dreams…
Tonight…
She closed her eyes, her voice gentling.
Tonight…
Their eyes met as they harmonized.
Tonight…
She grinned at him and he answered it with a smile of his own.
Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight…
Her brows furrowed as she leaned toward him.
Just a touch of the fire burning so bright…
He shook his head.
Oh, I don't want to mess this thing up,
She nodded at him.
I don't want to push too far…
Her head fell back, raising the mic as she sang a little deeper, pressing a hand to her heart.
Just a shot in the dark that you just might,
Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life,
His voice rose up alone.
So baby, I'm alright…
She nodded, smiling.
Oh-oo-oh…
Let's do this right…
With just a kiss goodnight…
Swaying, she drew the mic away as she sang her last line.
With a kiss goodnight…
And he finished the song, his eyes still on her.
Kiss goodnight…
The crowd, what little of it there was, clapped and whistled for them.
Rachel beamed like she had a whole stadium cheering them on, even giving them a little bow.
With a giggle, she tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to him, waving her mic at him and nodding. "Another?" she asked.
With a laugh, he licked his lips and nodded his chin at her.
She gave it some thought before giving him her song choice.
A half hour in, they stopped for a drink and something to eat. But eventually she was drawn back to the stage. They even took a few requests.
He loved every second of it. And what was even better, he could tell she did too.
.o.
"And when that man- You saw him didn't you? He was playing pool when we first arrived, but he was so excited a few songs in! Did you see him mouthing along?" she wondered excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat next to him.
They were on their way back into Lima, Benny's long in the rearview mirror, but Rachel was still working off the excess energy of their time on stage.
"Oh, Noah, it was so amazing," she gushed. "And just think, we'll have that feeling all the time!" She turned to grin at him widely. "How lucky are we?" she wondered, shaking her head.
And he stared at her a long moment, at the way her smile seemed so bright, so content.
He reached out and took her hand, lifting it up and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Pretty damn lucky, babe."
She squeezed his hand, her smile softening.
"Oh, and did you see the couple dancing?" she continued.
She spent the rest of the ride talking and he listened to every excited word; he never once let go of her hand.
.o.
He found the sixth gift on the dash of his truck the next morning. At first he was confused he missed it, then he realized that even after he dropped her off, with a lingering kiss goodbye, he was distracted thinking about her the rest of the ride home. He was starting to regret this whole 'take things slow' deal. It meant not following her up to her apartment and getting reacquainted with everything under her dress. Make-up sex was the shit! Why the hell was he putting it off?
Shaking it off, he focused on the box in his lap, flipping the lid off with his fingers. Inside was a miniature, hollow, hand-carved, wooden guitar case. Brows furrowed, he took it out, smoothing his thumb over the cherry colored curve of the base. Using his thumb at the thin seam, he opened it, to find it filled with three personalized guitar picks.
The first said Noah, the second Puck, and the last, Take a chance.
He held the third the longest, just staring at the gold writing a good long while.
.o.
He closed his locker one morning, whistling under his breath, to find Santana waiting for him.
He sighed, his brow raised questioningly.
She didn't say anything for awhile, just casting her eyes around the hall as she leaned back against the bank of lockers, thumbs tucked in the pockets of her skinny jeans.
Gone was the provocative act she'd tried before, trying to prove he was in a relationship because he wasn't taking in all her fine assets.
Gone too was the snappy bitch come to shove it in his face that she'd won; she knew who he was dating and she'd taken care of it.
He hiked his bag up over his shoulder and waited, arms crossed over his chest.
He could've left. Could've walked away and let her drown in all her silent apologies.
Instead, he said, "Maybe we could double-date some time…" He shrugged. "They've got a vegan menu at 'Stix that Rachel likes…"
She looked over at him, her brows furrowed, but the look passed quickly. Instead, she stood up straight, raised her chin, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Fine. But only 'cause Britt-Britt likes her… And tell the midget not to talk too much. Her voice gives me a headache." With that, she stalked off, hips swaying as she fell back into her groove.
But she tossed a half-grin back in his direction that said she was happy he got his girl back, and that he'd forgiven her.
So maybe she was still a bitch that derailed things for him pretty hardcore, but then… maybe he should thank her too. 'Cause he didn't like how it blew up in their faces, but maybe Rachel needed that push to realize he was worth fighting for too. And maybe he needed to learn the same lesson. That he wasn't disposable. He was just as important, just as vital, to Rachel's happiness as she was to his.
.o.
The seventh gift was a two-in-one deal.
It was a map, filled with hot spots all across the States that they could sing in. Places all the greats had been to before they got their break. Places very few people knew about off-hand. Places that he knew she had to have done some serious research to find.
On the back of the map was a timeline of how long they would spend in each place, with stops for landmarks or places she knew either of them might like in-between. It was like a giant road trip itinerary that they were going to spend a whole lot of time following, maybe even repeatedly, until they caught their break.
Part two of the gift was a pair of tickets to his favorite band; the city the concert was in was marked on her map with a gold star.
"These must'a cost an arm and a leg," he said, shaking his head, fingers holding tight to them, like he thought they might disappear if he didn't.
"They were worth it," she said simply. "And we'll have plenty of time to get there. Even to stay around and hopefully meet them. It's always worth a try!" she told him jubilantly. "They might even give us advice. On who they met or where they went; how it all unfolded for them. I'll take notes of course, just to be on the safe side." Her brows furrowed. "Or do you think a recorder would be more proficient?" She shook her head dismissively. "Either way, I'm sure we'll learn something that will help us on our inevitable rise to fame. If nothing more, you get to experience them live, which is wonderful! And while I'll admit they don't make my top five, I'm still looking forward to-"
"I love you."
She paused, her mouth hanging open as she was caught mid-sentence, her head turning slowly to look at him.
For a second, he didn't know why it felt so heavy, why there was a weird tension in the air. And then he realized it was because this was the first time he'd really said it since they got back together.
He scrubbed a hand down his 'hawk awkwardly. "It's not about the tickets, y'know? I just…" He shrugged. "I love you."
"I-I know." She bit her lip, her eyes shining with tears even as she laughed. "It just feels really good to hear you say it."
He nodded, eyes falling. He waved the tickets at her. "Thanks."
"Of course," she murmured.
It was later, after they'd gotten over the weird tension and she talked him into playing a few songs he knew they'd play at the concert and he was on his way out of her apartment, that she told him, "I love you too, Noah. I… never stopped."
He looked back at her with a crooked smile and said honestly, "Yeah, I know."
.o.
"I've been thinking…"
Puck looked up from the game he was watching, his arm tucked behind his head.
Rachel had her reading glasses on and her hair tied up in a bun. "What's up Sexy Librarian?"
She rolled her eyes at him, but her lips tugged up into a smile. Waving a hand at him to dismiss what he said, she instead moved over and took a seat on the edge of the couch, where his legs lay. "I'm being serious…" she told him.
With a sigh, he sat up. "All right, what're you thinking?"
She bit her lip, staring down at his chest a long moment. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "I think you should go back to Glee."
His lips pursed.
"Hear me out," she said, holding her hands up.
He nodded.
"You've forgiven Santana," she reminded.
He shrugged. Yeah, he kinda did.
"And the Glee club didn't technically do anything to you…" She shook her head, reaching up to tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "I think, what happened, why you left, had more to do with the fact that Santana was the only one of the club who had really figured us out and she didn't support you like you wanted, even needed… Instead, she seemed like the catalyst, when in reality it was me… It was my insecurities that broke us up…" She stared at him searchingly. "You shouldn't make them pay for something they didn't do. And more than that, you shouldn't have to suffer without something that you really loved…" She half-smiled at him. "Noah, you deserve to go to Nationals… And I'm sure that they want you there with them. You've already put so much work into and you enjoyed it so much! You're so close to taking Nationals by-by the balls!" she cried exuberantly.
He laughed abruptly. "Did you just say balls?"
She flushed. "I… I got a little overexcited," she admitted.
Chuckling to himself, he shook his head. "All right…" he finally said.
She grinned at him. "Really?"
He rolled his eyes at her excitement, even as a grin started to draw up his mouth. "Yeah, I'll drop by the choir room and talk to Shue tomorrow."
With a happy laugh, she hopped up and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "Yay!"
He chuckled, and because it was only natural, dragged her on top of him for some 'congrats you won that argument making out.'
Score.
.o.
When he walked into the choir room the next day, he was nervous. His shoulders were hunched and his hands were tucked in the pockets of his jeans. How the hell was he even supposed to explain why he left in the first place?
Mr. Shue was mid-sentence when he spotted him.
"Puck!" He blinked a few times in surprise. "Hey… What, uh… What are you doing here?"
He ground his teeth slightly. Apologies, asking for a second chance, it wasn't easy for him. He cast his eyes over to the group, where everybody was staring, curious.
"I shouldn't'a quit," he finally said, lifting his chin a little higher. "I was pissed…" He glanced at Santana. "Not really at you guys. Just had some stuff going on in my life…" He shrugged. "So I'm… sorry, or whatever… that I left."
"Is everything all right?" Shue wondered, brow furrowed in concern.
"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, I got it figured out."
He glanced over the crowd again. "So if you'll take me back, I'd like to be there when we take Nationals."
Sam was the first to stand up, friendly grin in place, and holding out a hand to welcome him back into the fold.
Then Finn and Mike, an excited, bouncing Brittany. Santana and Tina followed, and slowly the whole group was standing, shaking his hand, patting his shoulder, even hugging him.
Quinn raised a brow as she met him, the corners of her lips twitching with a smile. "Took you long enough," she said simply.
He snorted. "You know me, Q. Never do anything easy…"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well… Try not to screw this second chance up, huh?" She nodded her chin at him meaningfully before taking her seat.
And he got it, that she wasn't really talking about Glee, but with Rachel. He always kinda knew that she knew… That she had him figured out even if she never said it. And he didn't know why, maybe it was just that Quinn had been through some of the same shit as him, with having Beth and losing her, but he took her opinion to heart. And that she thought him and Rachel could work, that she might even be rooting for him to get that, it meant something to him.
"All right!" Mr. Shue clapped his hands, grinning at Puck as he took his seat. "Let's get back to planning." He waved a marker at them. "Nationals. Ideas. Go!"
As everybody started calling out suggestions, arguing for or against, Puck grinned to himself. It felt good to be back.
.o.
Frustrated, he tore up another piece of sheet paper, balled it up into a tight wad, and threw it far away from himself but nowhere near the garbage can.
Rachel raised a brow. "Writer's block?" she asked.
"I've hit a wall. A giant fucking cement wall!" He blew out a long sigh and shook his head. "It's driving me nuts. We've only got like, a month 'til Nationals and I've got squat."
She sat down beside him, reaching out and taking the paper with the most lyrics, and just as many scratch outs, from off his pile. "Well… Maybe you need a break," she suggested, reading it over a few times. "What you have is wonderful, but maybe you're just trying too hard at this point…"
He scrubbed his fingers over his 'hawk and shook his head. "I gotta get it done… I left these guys in the lurch and now I'm back and I don't even have the songs they need."
"I thought you said Mr. Shue suggested you work on just one specific one for you to sing, a solo, and he would get the others to sing something of their choice."
"Yeah, but…" He frowned. "Their choices suck."
She bit her lip to keep from laughing but failed. "Noah…"
His eyes widened. "Seriously!"
Shaking her head at him, she rose from the couch, taking his hand as she went. "Why don't we go out for dinner? Focus on something else for awhile…"
"Dinner?" His eyebrows hiked as his stomach rumbled approvingly. "Where?"
"I was thinking… BreadstiX," she said, casting her eyes away.
His brows furrowed. "Isn't it Tuesday?" His lips pursed. "That's like, free appy's night. Everybody and their mother'll be there."
She cleared her throat, fidgeting with her dress. "Yes, well… I thought, maybe it could be our first real public date." Her eyes darted around nervously.
He grinned slowly. "You sure?"
She finally stared down at him, letting out a soft sigh. "I can't promise I won't be somewhat nervous, but yes… I-I think we should."
"All right." Nodding, he stood up. "I'm gonna take a shower first and we'll head, cool?"
She smiled. "Sure."
He kissed her, short but hard, before walking past her to the bathroom.
.o.
BreadstiX was packed. He was right, just about everybody he knew was at some table or another.
Rachel clutched her small, sparkly, pink purse tight in her hands as they walked behind the hostess to their table, Puck's hand at the small of her back, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.
"Puck!"
His eyes wandered around for who was calling him until he landed on a table with Finn and Kurt, Burt and Carole all sitting together. The elder Hummel was waving him over.
"Isn't that your boss?" Rachel wondered, looking up at him, her brow furrowed.
"Yeah."
Seeing their attention had been caught, the hostess pointed out their table for them, saying their waiter would be with them shortly, and then returned to the front of the restaurant.
"You mind?" Puck asked her.
Rachel shook her head, leaning into his hand slightly before they walked over to meet the Hummel-Hudson family.
"Hey," Puck greeted, nodding at the table.
Kurt was staring suspiciously at Rachel, his eyes narrowed like he recognized her but wasn't sure from where.
"Hey Puck." Burt squeezed his wife's shoulder. "I was just telling Carole here there was a good reason you haven't been over for dinner in awhile…" He half-grinned at Rachel kindly. "This is Puck's girlfriend, Rachel, Car."
Rachel smiled at the woman widely. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel. Noah's told me a lot of very lovely things about you and your family."
"Has… Noah?" she said, her eyebrows hiked slightly as she turned her eyes on him, a smile stretching her mouth. "I'm glad."
Puck shifted his feet at her expression. He'd known Carole practically his whole life; she was like a second mom to him. He was pretty sure she knew how big it was that Rachel wasn't using the nickname he'd adopted when his dad cut and ran, wanting to be stronger and thinking Noah was too pansy a name for a badass.
"Yes, he said you were a driving force in his childhood… Especially when his mother was so affected by what happened with his father. That you were always there for him. Like on days when his mother had to work late at the hospital and he didn't want to be home alone… He'd always go to your house and you would cut the crusts off his sandwiches for him…" She turned her head up and smiled at Puck. "Peanut butter and honey… Even though Finn only ever ate strawberry jam…" Turning back to Carole, she said, "I'm very glad you were there for him."
Carole stared at her, her eyes wide, before finally she looked up at Puck, her head tilted slightly and her brows furrowed. "I-I'm very glad too," she said, her voice softer, heavier with some unsaid emotion.
Puck's hand slid up the curve of Rachel's back, settling to gently knead the nape of her neck appreciatively. 'Cause she just said something he'd always kinda wanted to say to Carole but never really knew how. Plus, he was pretty sure she just won some serious brownie points with her.
With a wide smile, she reached a hand out toward Finn. "I don't believe we've met either. Although with everything I know about you, I feel like we have… Rachel Berry. It's very nice to meet you."
Finn took her hand and grinned lopsidedly. "Finn Hudson," he said, nodding. "Uh, good to meet you too."
Suddenly, Kurt's expression widened and he slapped a hand down on the table dramatically, drawing they eyes of his family. "The secretary!" he cried knowingly.
Rachel flushed, casting her eyes up at Puck uncertainly. Before he could even try to defend her, she stood up a little straighter and lifted her chin. "Yes," she said, simply. "I did used to work as a secretary at your school."
Kurt looked between them, his lip curled ever-so-slightly. He waved a finger between them. "So you two…"
"Kurt," Burt said, catching his son's eye and giving a subtle shake of his head.
When the table went quiet and Kurt curbed his interest at least enough not to say anymore, Burt continued, "I've already talked to Puck about his relationship… I don't like the circumstances it started under but I do trust him to know what's right for him…" He turned and looked at the couple and nodded shortly. "Rachel's a nice girl, with a good head on her shoulders from all I know… And Puck's an adult now. He can make his own decisions."
With that, the discussion was finished. Burt had made his point clear and nobody seemed interested in refuting it.
"We should go," Puck said, motioning a thumb behind him. "It was nice seeing you guys."
"You should visit more," Carole told him. She looked between him and Rachel and smiled. "Both of you. We'll have dinner, catch up properly."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Cool."
He reached out and bumped fists with Finn before saluting his boss and finally him and Rachel walked off to their table.
"Awkward," he mumbled under his breath.
She looked up at him, shrugging slightly. "Well I think we handled ourselves quite well."
He half-smiled. "Nobody threw rocks… So far, so good."
She scoffed at him even as she grinned.
He pulled her seat out for her before taking his own and without a second's hesitation, Rachel covered his hand atop the table with hers.
"I'm glad we came out," she told him.
He didn't remind her that Kurt, the biggest gossip possibly ever, would probably have it all over the school by morning. Because he was too. He didn't care who knew or what they thought. He picked up his menu and started scanning it for dinner. Forgetting about what everybody might think, about the song he still hadn't written, about everything but having dinner with his awesome girlfriend.
And when the night ended, he still didn't let it get in the way. He dropped her off at home and he left the song-writing and the worrying for another day.
.o.
He didn't know if Finn said something, or maybe what Burt said actually resonated, but Kurt didn't rat him out. Or, at least, Puck wasn't getting any more looks than usual, so as far as he knew, nobody figured out he was on a date with the former secretary last night.
He wasn't sure if he should be thankful or not. Truthfully, he kinda wanted it all out in the open already.
When he really thought about it, it was kind of funny. How when they were together but didn't want others to know, they had to try so hard to keep it quiet. But now that they were together and not trying to keep it a secret, nobody seemed to notice.
Then again, maybe they just didn't give a shit…
.o.
"So what's Secretary Sex wearing to prom?" Santana wondered, raising a brow as she examined her nails in a dismissive manner. "I'm only asking because Brittany wants to double date… And she thinks we should color coordinate or some shit."
Puck snorted, looking up from his lunch to find her taking a seat atop the picnic table he was currently the only occupant of. "Yeah, I don't think we're gonna be cuttin' up the dance floor, San."
She rolled her eyes. "Still worried Sylvester'll sic the pedo-police on her?"
He grabbed up his sandwich for a bite and shrugged at her. "Don't think they'll welcome her with open arms."
"So what?" Her lip curled. "You're eighteen…" She flicked imaginary lint from off her Cheerio's jacket. "You've banged chicks twice her age and nobody was batting an eye then."
"Yeah, well, none of 'em worked for the school."
She pursed her lips at him.
"I didn't bang the English teacher," he muttered, scoffing. "I just hit on her until she brought my grade up so I could still play football."
"Whatever," she muttered. Uncrossing her legs, she hopped down from the table. "All I'm saying is…" She shrugged. "No judgment or whatever." With that, she sashayed away, meeting up with Brittany, who was bouncing excitedly in her direction. Their pinkies linked and they leaned toward each other for a brief, sweet a smile back at him, wiggled a wave hello, and then skipped off happily with her girlfriend.
He shook his head to himself in amusement.
Sure, it took a lot for Santana to wave the gay flag and get her happy on with Brittany, front and center, and hell, that took some serious guts, but it wasn't the same issue he was having. Maybe if Rachel wasn't the secretary before, it'd have been easy to get her in the prom and not have anybody make a big deal. But all the teachers and the principal knew her personally, and he was pretty sure if anybody knew what happened before she quit, there'd be same red flags flying. Yeah, they couldn't fire her, but he didn't want to test the boundaries on what they could do.
Besides, prom was for suckers.
.o.
"I bet you looked wonderful in that white tuxedo," she told him. "You could always reuse it."
Puck rolled his eyes. "Babe, I'm not going to prom."
"Don't be ridiculous, Noah," she harrumphed. "Everybody goes to prom."
He sighed, because she was on a roll now, convinced she could find him the perfect outfit to wear. She wasn't planning on going with him, but she did think he, quote, "should go for the personal experience, if nothing else. It's a milestone that everybody should enjoy at least once in their life."
So when he reminded her he went last year, she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "That wasn't your senior prom, Noah."
There was no winning with this chick.
But, if he was being honest, it was kinda starting to sound cool. The guys wanted to all put in for a big limo and Santana said she and Brittany would be his dates and keep his manwhore ways in check if Rachel wanted. She firmly told him that she had no fears of him straying, but added that if he wanted to go with Santana and Brittany, she would support that. He was pretty sure she was only down with it because they were so in lesbians with each other she knew they'd never go for him. She was probably right, but he wasn't gonna test it anyway.
.o.
Somehow, and he wasn't even sure how exactly, he did end up going to his senior prom. He had Brittany on one arm and Santana on the other when he walked in, but they spend most of the night dancing with just each other. Which was cool because he spent most of the night dancing as a group with the rest of Glee club and seriously, it was actually pretty cool shit.
But he still left early.
Rachel answered the buzzing of her comm. as soon as he stabbed it with his finger. "Lemme up!"
He was in the building and on her floor five minutes later.
She had the door open as soon as he stepped off the elevator, his tux jacket tossed over one shoulder and hooked on his crooked finger.
He half-grinned at her, the fun of the last few hours still radiating through him.
"Hey!" she greeted, fiddling with the belt of her fluffy pink robe as he got closer. "You look very handsome! How was your night? Did you have fu-?"
He cut her off with his mouth slanting across hers.
She sighed, gripping the front of his shirt tight in her fingers.
His free arm slid around her waist and drew her in closer, until she was plastered against his chest.
Her mouth parted for his tongue, dabbing at the underside of her lip and skimming along the roof of her mouth. Her fingers curved, nails biting through his shirt at his chest.
"N-Noah," she panted, blinking her eyes a few times before drawing back just an inch.
He shook his head slightly before stepping closer until she walked backwards into her apartment. He kicked the door shut and tossed his suit jacket in the direction of the closet.
"Missed you," he muttered, kissing her again, teeth grazing her lip lightly.
"I-I just… We-You were…" She shook her head, trying to clear her clouded mind. "We just saw each other this morning," she reminded.
He kissed her again, hand smoothing up her back.
"Are you… I-I mean are you s-sure?" she stuttered breathlessly, hands finding the collar of his shirt, fixing it absently. "You said you wanted to wait, you wanted to be sure…" She swallowed thickly. "You wanted to trust me again."
He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small, square card; he tapped it against her cheek lightly. Her eyes turned and then softened before they found his.
Five words.
Five words he'd used to convince her five months ago.
Five words that told him she was ready and he was ready and they were gonna make it this time.
I can make you happy.
"You do," he told her, voice husky, deep.
Her eyes filled with hopeful tears.
He wiped them away with his thumbs before they could fall and then his mouth was on hers and her hands were reaching, untucking his shirt from his pants. He drew his face back from her and buried it at her neck, pressing kisses right over her fluttering pulse, and down, down, teeth scraping over her collar bone. He untied her bathrobe with quick, wrenching hands, until it hung open, showing just how naked she was beneath it. He pushed at the shoulders until they slid down her arms and finally the fabric pooled at her feet. His hands smoothed over her soft, bare skin, from her neck to her shoulders, down the lengths of her arms and back up, sliding around to her back and wondering down her sides to the ticklish skin of her ribs. He dragged his fingers down along the flare of her hips, thumbs skimming her hip bones. He pressed kisses down between her breasts, cheek flattening against one. His hands squeezed before gliding down and cupping her beneath her butt. He lifted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively.
She smoothed her hand over his 'hawk, curling her fingers at the nape of his neck, nails scraping lightly. "I missed this," she told him, pressing her forehead to his.
"Lotsa time to make up for," he said, smirking.
She laughed softly. "And then?" she wondered, eyebrow quirked.
He walked her back toward her room, kicking her bathrobe out of his way. "I finish school, win Nationals, and graduate. We skip town. You wanna set down roots somewhere, fine. But we still sing; we still try to make a go of it…" He dropped her down on her bed and shrugged. "We can send in demo tapes…" He started unbuttoning his shirt from the top while she reached out and started at the bottom. "Sign up for those stupid reality singing shows." He tossed the shirt to the ground. "We'll set up a YouTube account and get our faces out there, our voices…" He kicked off his shoes and started on his belt. "Whatever we gotta do…" He reached for her, burying his fingers in her hair, drawing her face up to his. "We'll make it, Rach… Together, in music, every damn way, all right?" He licked his lips. "You just gotta trust me… You gotta be all in… We gotta take our chances on each other."
She swallowed tightly, and then, resolve firmly in place, she reached out and undid his pants, tearing the zipper down. "We'll combine YouTube and traveling… We can make videos while we're on the road, moving from city to city, just like I mapped out…" She crawled back on the bed and smiled as his familiar weight covered her. "And if that doesn't work, then we'll try out for The Voice… or something equal."
Her knees hitched high on his hips as he leaned down. "Yeah?"
She nodded. "You make me happy, Noah…" She shook her head. "And I've spent too much of my life being afraid and walking the line and pretending that I don't want to take all of these incredible risks… But I do. I want all of it." She drew her fingers over his shaved head. "I know what it's like not to have it now… Not to have you and those dreams…" Her brows knotted. "Even if we spend our whole lives chasing our dreams and never quite reaching them, it would be better than never having them at all…"
He dragged his thumb over the curve of her eyebrow and grinned as he nodded. "Yeah," he said.
He kissed her then; hard and deep, fingers fisting her hair, hips finding and meeting and fitting against hers.
And it felt good. It felt right and familiar and maybe even better than it did before the shit hit the fan. For awhile it was just his chest pressed to hers, all of her soft, naked skin, warm against his own. But then her hands were pushing at his pants, shoving them down and away. And he shuffled them off, kicking them free.
They rolled across the bed, she always did like to be on top, but he liked to make her fight for it.
He wandered down her body, mouth moving from her neck to her shoulder, nipping at the curves of her tits. He covered one with his hand, the skin of his palm rough, kneading, thumb rubbing around her dark nipple, flicking. His mouth found the other, flattening his tongue around it, circling it, lips and teeth sucking and dabbing until it was pebbled and swollen, until she was leaning up into the suction of his mouth, the teasing flick of his tongue. Her hands gripped his shoulders, rubbing and squeezing his biceps before maneuvering around to his shoulder blades, fingers dipping along the lines as they flexed and moved.
He made his way down to her navel and rubbed his nose against her soft belly, his unshaven cheeks scraping against her until she laughed lightly. He licked the seam of where her hips met her long, long legs and breathed warm, teasing air across the insides of her shaking thighs. He dragged his fingers down them until her breath hitched and her stomach contracted. Until her toes curled and she tried to close her legs around him. He hitched her knees on his hands and pressed them back, spreading her open.
And she watched him, her lower lip caught between her teeth, a warm, wanting flush already coloring her cheeks, her eyes half-lidded, her breathing heavy.
She was already wet for him. He pressed a kiss to her clit before he moved down, his tongue dragging a line along the length of her pussy. Her back arched, chest thrust up into the air, her head thrown back. He followed the same line with the pads of two fingers, before he slid one inside her while his lips sucked gently at her, tongue dabbing, making small circles that grew bigger. His finger thrust shallowly, slowly, teasing her by circling twice before sinking back inside just a little bit more each time.
Her fingers dragged down his hair and circled up; she gripped his ears in her hands and squeezed, before reaching further down and digging her nails into his shoulders. She panted his name the closer she got to coming and then cursed it when he slowed down or even stopped completely, drawing his name on her thighs with his tongue until she wasn't right on the edge anymore. But eventually, with his mouth and his fingers and his nose bumping against her clit, he made her come, screaming his name so loud he thought she might lose her voice.
And then he was climbing up her and she was handing him a condom, her hand shaking, her legs wrapping tight around his waist.
It felt so fucking good to be inside her again; to have her lips against his ear as he fucked her into the mattress. To have her nails dragging down his back and her mouth on his, on his neck, her teeth biting into his skin. To have her hair tangled around his fingers and to smell her, that awesome scent of her skin in every breath he took. To have her pushing him back, forcing her way on top, riding him, cupping his hands around her boobs, squeezing. To feel her coming around him; to watch her as her head fell back and her whole body tensed, her mouth falling open in a silent cry. To lay her back on the bed and wring another orgasm out of her with his fingers curved inside her as his tongue and teeth work on her nipples. To watch her lick his fingers clean before he slid inside her again.
They moved slower then; face to face. Her hands smoothed down his face; her kiss was soft, gentle. And he remembered that this was what he'd been fighting for. Not to fuck the secretary. Not to add another notch to his already infamous stud resume. But for the incredible woman who loved him as he loved her. Who didn't see him as Puck, the hot pool guy, or Puck, the football player. She just saw Noah; the guy who gave her Vegan shit a try and watched Grey's Anatomy with her. The guy who wrote songs and sang them to her in the quiet of her bedroom. The guy who had a soft spot for his nana and admired his ma for all her strength after his dad abandoned them. The guy who rubbed her feet and always left his wet towels lying around. She saw the goofy, insecure dreamer under the Letterman's jacket and the smirk. The guy who always feared he'd get stuck in Lima and turn out just like his dad. Who still thought of Beth every day, wondering if he made the right choice. Who just wanted somebody to believe in him, to love him, to want more with and for him.
When he came, his face was buried at her heart and her name left him on a breathless grunt. He panted against her hot, damp skin, his brow furrowed, his body stretched and shaking. She rubbed his shoulder, kneading the muscles flexing there, and feathered her fingers down his 'hawk, nails dragging back up at the nape of his neck.
"We'll be okay," she told him.
He lifted his head, chin balanced on her chest. And for the first time since he got her back, he really let himself believe that.
When his legs stopped shaking, he dragged her out into the living room for their own prom. They danced naked, with him twirling her and breaking out some truly awful dance moves. She spent most of it just laughing at him, her hair tangled, her hand pressed to her mouth. He'd never felt so lighthearted before.
Later, she fell asleep in his arms, wrapped up in her bed with its too many pillows and matching sheets and blanket.
He woke up some time around four, found a text from his mom that told him to "have a nice time at Sam's," who he remembered saying he was staying with for the night. He hadn't planned to stay with Rachel; in fact, he wasn't even gonna drop by until the next day, him and the guys were gonna get drive-thru McDonald's and play video games the rest of the night. But since everybody and their date looked like they had other ideas and he found the note from Rachel in his pants pocket, he dropped by her place instead.
No regrets.
In fact… Inspiration struck.
He maneuvered out of her grip, pausing when her nose wrinkled, but when she relaxed into the pillow, he slid across the bed and reached for the drawer where he was hoping some of his sheet paper still was. He grinned as fingers touched paper, but when he drew it out, it wasn't lined or marked with the usual "Composed by: Noah Puckerman," or the variation of both their names. Instead, it was page after page of hand-written apologies that Rachel never finished.
They all started out the same, "I know you won't understand and I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused…" but then they would turn into something else. She would write she missed him or that she knew breaking up with him was a mistake and then the letters wouldn't be apologies anymore so much as her wondering why the hell she ever let him go. Why she ever gave up on him. And they always ended the same with something like, "I wish I was strong enough to be everything you need and deserve. I wish I didn't miss you so much. I wish I didn't still dream about everything we could be. I wish you were here. I wish we were already past this and it was just a bump on the road of a long life together. I wish a lot of things I can't have. But most of all, a wish I know is possible, I wish for your happiness, Noah. Share you music, your voice, your passion with the world! Love always, Rachel*"
He read them all, all twenty-seven of them, scratch outs and rewrites and tear-stained pages alike.
And when he was done, the sun was coming up. He put the letters away and he closed the drawer. And he knew, as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her hair, that if he hadn't forgiven her before, he did now. 'Cause she'd been suffering just as much as he had.
They were on equal ground now. Partners. And they were going to get it all, together.
[To be continued: Part IX.]
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: 11,977
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.
[First Half.]
Puck was going over the lyrics to a new song in his head, sitting on her couch.
"What do you think about going to Benny's tonight?" she asked him from her bedroom, plucking an earring out from the trinket box he'd got her for Hanukah and sticking it in her ear as she sat at her dresser.
He picked at a hole in his jeans and shrugged. "Sure. What time d'you wanna meet there?"
"Actually, I think we should just take your truck."
He paused. "You wanna drive in together?"
"It wouldn't be the first time," she reminded.
He snorted. "Yeah, but you were always wearing a wig when we were still in city limits."
She rolled her eyes. "So I was overdramatic…" She stood from her dresser and walked to her closet. "I'll leave the wig at home and we can take your truck in. Unless you'd like to take my car…?"
He frowned, shaking his head. "Nah, my truck's better."
"Debatable," she answered.
He was about to list all the ways his truck was boss when she walked into the living room in a killer pair of heels, a short purple dress, and holding a box as she grinned at him.
He was still trying to form a decent thought when she handed him the box. "Here. Lucky number five."
He took it more out of instinct than anything, eyes glued to her tight little body packed in her pretty dress, her long legs on display.
"Aren't you going to open it?" she asked, before taking a seat on her coffee table in front of him.
He cleared his throat and forced his eyes down to the box in his lap.
Popping the top, he reached inside to find two microphones. One was covered in pink crystals; way too sparkly for him.
"That one's mine," she explained, taking it out of the white tissue paper beneath it. "I don't even want to think about the bacteria probably collected by various, anonymous singers getting up to sing on each stage, so I thought it only made sense that we have our own…" She reached inside and took out his checkered black and silver, cordless mic; simple, sleek, perfect.
She turned it over and pointed with her finger to a metal square with his initials engraved on it; N.P.
"I thought maybe tonight we could test them out…" she suggested, eyebrows hiked.
He stared down at the mic in his hand, and the glittery one in hers. And his heart thumped hard in his chest.
She was taking it seriously.
She wasn't just trying to get him back and smooth things over.
She wanted him and she wanted the open road and music.
Licking his lips, he nodded.
"Yeah," he told her, tapping the mouthpiece of her mic with his own. "I got just the song."
She beamed.
.o.
Benny's was pretty dead, but it was a Wednesday, so Puck wasn't surprised. There were a few people playing pool or darts, a few more drinking at the bar or at a table here or there.
It wasn't open mic night, but the bartender was a good guy and didn't mind them singing. He'd heard them a few times and although he'd heard some real headaches in his time, he liked them.
The song Puck had picked out for them was better with piano, but since the guy who usually played on open mic night wasn't around, he figured he'd just have to work with what they had; his guitar.
Rachel grinned at the crowd as they climbed the stage and set up their mics.
She'd been memorizing the lyrics on the drive over and she was excited for them to sing together again.
And even Puck had to admit he was pretty psyched for it too. There was something about being up on a stage - even if it was in front of a pretty bare bar - that struck a chord in him. This was always where he was meant to be. Not college, not in a classroom or a stuffy office. It was up here, under a spotlight, mic in front of him, guitar in his lap, and this songstress at his side.
Rachel looked beautiful under the lights; she looked like she was in her element.
And he remembered suddenly that first day he'd seen her, standing in the office at McKinley, looking way too happy for so early in the morning. Friendly and excited and happy to help. And he loved that about her; even though he'd rather sleep in 'til noon and wasn't always the nicest guy around. He loved that Rachel was the opposite in a lot of ways. Like that, he loved that she fit into this scene too. She fit in on this stage; she looked even more at ease, happier.
She looked at him, her smile stretching her lips so wide he wondered if it hurt. She tucked her hair behind her ear and she wrapped a hand around her sparkly pink mic before she nodded at him to begin.
And he chuckled a little under his breath at her eagerness.
He plucked the strings, nodding his head as he caught the beat.
Rachel took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
And when her voice reached out, there was a moment where his heart kind of clenched, because damn… He'd never heard anything more beautiful.
Lyin' here with you so close to me…
Her brows furrowed and she tipped her head, hair slipping over her shoulder.
It's hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe…
She opened her eyes and turned her head just enough to look at him.
I'm caught up in this moment,
Caught up in your smile…
He stared at her, eyebrows hiked, lifting his chin as he sang his part.
I've never opened up to anyone…
So hard to hold back when I'm holding you in my arms…
Their voices melded together then and his lips hiked in a half-smile.
We don't need to rush this,
let's just take it slow…
She rocked her shoulders back and forth as they sang the chorus, his fingers dancing over the strings a little faster.
Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight,
Just a touch of the fire burning so bright…
Her fingers flexed on the mic as she looked at him sincerely.
And I don't want to mess this thing up,
No, I don't want to push too far…
The crowd was paying attention now.
He noticed even the big guy at the pool table had stopped playing to look over.
Just a shot in the dark that you just might,
Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life,
So baby, I'm alright with just a kiss goodnight…
Taking her mic from the stand, Rachel turned to sing directly at him.
I know that if we give this a little time,
It'll only bring us closer to the love we wanna find…
It's never felt so real…
He shook his head, joining her.
No, it's never felt so right…
She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, turning back toward the crowd as they sang the chorus again, her fingers tapping along with the beat.
Puck noticed a few of the women swaying. And a couple had gotten out on the dance floor to swing each other around.
The beat picked up as the chorus ended.
No, I don't want to say goodnight…
Puck watched her from the corner of his eyes, ignoring the crowd entirely.
I know it's time to leave…
But you'll be in my dreams…
Tonight…
She closed her eyes, her voice gentling.
Tonight…
Their eyes met as they harmonized.
Tonight…
She grinned at him and he answered it with a smile of his own.
Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight…
Her brows furrowed as she leaned toward him.
Just a touch of the fire burning so bright…
He shook his head.
Oh, I don't want to mess this thing up,
She nodded at him.
I don't want to push too far…
Her head fell back, raising the mic as she sang a little deeper, pressing a hand to her heart.
Just a shot in the dark that you just might,
Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life,
His voice rose up alone.
So baby, I'm alright…
She nodded, smiling.
Oh-oo-oh…
Let's do this right…
With just a kiss goodnight…
Swaying, she drew the mic away as she sang her last line.
With a kiss goodnight…
And he finished the song, his eyes still on her.
Kiss goodnight…
The crowd, what little of it there was, clapped and whistled for them.
Rachel beamed like she had a whole stadium cheering them on, even giving them a little bow.
With a giggle, she tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to him, waving her mic at him and nodding. "Another?" she asked.
With a laugh, he licked his lips and nodded his chin at her.
She gave it some thought before giving him her song choice.
A half hour in, they stopped for a drink and something to eat. But eventually she was drawn back to the stage. They even took a few requests.
He loved every second of it. And what was even better, he could tell she did too.
.o.
"And when that man- You saw him didn't you? He was playing pool when we first arrived, but he was so excited a few songs in! Did you see him mouthing along?" she wondered excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat next to him.
They were on their way back into Lima, Benny's long in the rearview mirror, but Rachel was still working off the excess energy of their time on stage.
"Oh, Noah, it was so amazing," she gushed. "And just think, we'll have that feeling all the time!" She turned to grin at him widely. "How lucky are we?" she wondered, shaking her head.
And he stared at her a long moment, at the way her smile seemed so bright, so content.
He reached out and took her hand, lifting it up and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Pretty damn lucky, babe."
She squeezed his hand, her smile softening.
"Oh, and did you see the couple dancing?" she continued.
She spent the rest of the ride talking and he listened to every excited word; he never once let go of her hand.
.o.
He found the sixth gift on the dash of his truck the next morning. At first he was confused he missed it, then he realized that even after he dropped her off, with a lingering kiss goodbye, he was distracted thinking about her the rest of the ride home. He was starting to regret this whole 'take things slow' deal. It meant not following her up to her apartment and getting reacquainted with everything under her dress. Make-up sex was the shit! Why the hell was he putting it off?
Shaking it off, he focused on the box in his lap, flipping the lid off with his fingers. Inside was a miniature, hollow, hand-carved, wooden guitar case. Brows furrowed, he took it out, smoothing his thumb over the cherry colored curve of the base. Using his thumb at the thin seam, he opened it, to find it filled with three personalized guitar picks.
The first said Noah, the second Puck, and the last, Take a chance.
He held the third the longest, just staring at the gold writing a good long while.
.o.
He closed his locker one morning, whistling under his breath, to find Santana waiting for him.
He sighed, his brow raised questioningly.
She didn't say anything for awhile, just casting her eyes around the hall as she leaned back against the bank of lockers, thumbs tucked in the pockets of her skinny jeans.
Gone was the provocative act she'd tried before, trying to prove he was in a relationship because he wasn't taking in all her fine assets.
Gone too was the snappy bitch come to shove it in his face that she'd won; she knew who he was dating and she'd taken care of it.
He hiked his bag up over his shoulder and waited, arms crossed over his chest.
He could've left. Could've walked away and let her drown in all her silent apologies.
Instead, he said, "Maybe we could double-date some time…" He shrugged. "They've got a vegan menu at 'Stix that Rachel likes…"
She looked over at him, her brows furrowed, but the look passed quickly. Instead, she stood up straight, raised her chin, and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Fine. But only 'cause Britt-Britt likes her… And tell the midget not to talk too much. Her voice gives me a headache." With that, she stalked off, hips swaying as she fell back into her groove.
But she tossed a half-grin back in his direction that said she was happy he got his girl back, and that he'd forgiven her.
So maybe she was still a bitch that derailed things for him pretty hardcore, but then… maybe he should thank her too. 'Cause he didn't like how it blew up in their faces, but maybe Rachel needed that push to realize he was worth fighting for too. And maybe he needed to learn the same lesson. That he wasn't disposable. He was just as important, just as vital, to Rachel's happiness as she was to his.
.o.
The seventh gift was a two-in-one deal.
It was a map, filled with hot spots all across the States that they could sing in. Places all the greats had been to before they got their break. Places very few people knew about off-hand. Places that he knew she had to have done some serious research to find.
On the back of the map was a timeline of how long they would spend in each place, with stops for landmarks or places she knew either of them might like in-between. It was like a giant road trip itinerary that they were going to spend a whole lot of time following, maybe even repeatedly, until they caught their break.
Part two of the gift was a pair of tickets to his favorite band; the city the concert was in was marked on her map with a gold star.
"These must'a cost an arm and a leg," he said, shaking his head, fingers holding tight to them, like he thought they might disappear if he didn't.
"They were worth it," she said simply. "And we'll have plenty of time to get there. Even to stay around and hopefully meet them. It's always worth a try!" she told him jubilantly. "They might even give us advice. On who they met or where they went; how it all unfolded for them. I'll take notes of course, just to be on the safe side." Her brows furrowed. "Or do you think a recorder would be more proficient?" She shook her head dismissively. "Either way, I'm sure we'll learn something that will help us on our inevitable rise to fame. If nothing more, you get to experience them live, which is wonderful! And while I'll admit they don't make my top five, I'm still looking forward to-"
"I love you."
She paused, her mouth hanging open as she was caught mid-sentence, her head turning slowly to look at him.
For a second, he didn't know why it felt so heavy, why there was a weird tension in the air. And then he realized it was because this was the first time he'd really said it since they got back together.
He scrubbed a hand down his 'hawk awkwardly. "It's not about the tickets, y'know? I just…" He shrugged. "I love you."
"I-I know." She bit her lip, her eyes shining with tears even as she laughed. "It just feels really good to hear you say it."
He nodded, eyes falling. He waved the tickets at her. "Thanks."
"Of course," she murmured.
It was later, after they'd gotten over the weird tension and she talked him into playing a few songs he knew they'd play at the concert and he was on his way out of her apartment, that she told him, "I love you too, Noah. I… never stopped."
He looked back at her with a crooked smile and said honestly, "Yeah, I know."
.o.
"I've been thinking…"
Puck looked up from the game he was watching, his arm tucked behind his head.
Rachel had her reading glasses on and her hair tied up in a bun. "What's up Sexy Librarian?"
She rolled her eyes at him, but her lips tugged up into a smile. Waving a hand at him to dismiss what he said, she instead moved over and took a seat on the edge of the couch, where his legs lay. "I'm being serious…" she told him.
With a sigh, he sat up. "All right, what're you thinking?"
She bit her lip, staring down at his chest a long moment. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "I think you should go back to Glee."
His lips pursed.
"Hear me out," she said, holding her hands up.
He nodded.
"You've forgiven Santana," she reminded.
He shrugged. Yeah, he kinda did.
"And the Glee club didn't technically do anything to you…" She shook her head, reaching up to tuck a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "I think, what happened, why you left, had more to do with the fact that Santana was the only one of the club who had really figured us out and she didn't support you like you wanted, even needed… Instead, she seemed like the catalyst, when in reality it was me… It was my insecurities that broke us up…" She stared at him searchingly. "You shouldn't make them pay for something they didn't do. And more than that, you shouldn't have to suffer without something that you really loved…" She half-smiled at him. "Noah, you deserve to go to Nationals… And I'm sure that they want you there with them. You've already put so much work into and you enjoyed it so much! You're so close to taking Nationals by-by the balls!" she cried exuberantly.
He laughed abruptly. "Did you just say balls?"
She flushed. "I… I got a little overexcited," she admitted.
Chuckling to himself, he shook his head. "All right…" he finally said.
She grinned at him. "Really?"
He rolled his eyes at her excitement, even as a grin started to draw up his mouth. "Yeah, I'll drop by the choir room and talk to Shue tomorrow."
With a happy laugh, she hopped up and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "Yay!"
He chuckled, and because it was only natural, dragged her on top of him for some 'congrats you won that argument making out.'
Score.
.o.
When he walked into the choir room the next day, he was nervous. His shoulders were hunched and his hands were tucked in the pockets of his jeans. How the hell was he even supposed to explain why he left in the first place?
Mr. Shue was mid-sentence when he spotted him.
"Puck!" He blinked a few times in surprise. "Hey… What, uh… What are you doing here?"
He ground his teeth slightly. Apologies, asking for a second chance, it wasn't easy for him. He cast his eyes over to the group, where everybody was staring, curious.
"I shouldn't'a quit," he finally said, lifting his chin a little higher. "I was pissed…" He glanced at Santana. "Not really at you guys. Just had some stuff going on in my life…" He shrugged. "So I'm… sorry, or whatever… that I left."
"Is everything all right?" Shue wondered, brow furrowed in concern.
"Yeah." He nodded. "Yeah, I got it figured out."
He glanced over the crowd again. "So if you'll take me back, I'd like to be there when we take Nationals."
Sam was the first to stand up, friendly grin in place, and holding out a hand to welcome him back into the fold.
Then Finn and Mike, an excited, bouncing Brittany. Santana and Tina followed, and slowly the whole group was standing, shaking his hand, patting his shoulder, even hugging him.
Quinn raised a brow as she met him, the corners of her lips twitching with a smile. "Took you long enough," she said simply.
He snorted. "You know me, Q. Never do anything easy…"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well… Try not to screw this second chance up, huh?" She nodded her chin at him meaningfully before taking her seat.
And he got it, that she wasn't really talking about Glee, but with Rachel. He always kinda knew that she knew… That she had him figured out even if she never said it. And he didn't know why, maybe it was just that Quinn had been through some of the same shit as him, with having Beth and losing her, but he took her opinion to heart. And that she thought him and Rachel could work, that she might even be rooting for him to get that, it meant something to him.
"All right!" Mr. Shue clapped his hands, grinning at Puck as he took his seat. "Let's get back to planning." He waved a marker at them. "Nationals. Ideas. Go!"
As everybody started calling out suggestions, arguing for or against, Puck grinned to himself. It felt good to be back.
.o.
Frustrated, he tore up another piece of sheet paper, balled it up into a tight wad, and threw it far away from himself but nowhere near the garbage can.
Rachel raised a brow. "Writer's block?" she asked.
"I've hit a wall. A giant fucking cement wall!" He blew out a long sigh and shook his head. "It's driving me nuts. We've only got like, a month 'til Nationals and I've got squat."
She sat down beside him, reaching out and taking the paper with the most lyrics, and just as many scratch outs, from off his pile. "Well… Maybe you need a break," she suggested, reading it over a few times. "What you have is wonderful, but maybe you're just trying too hard at this point…"
He scrubbed his fingers over his 'hawk and shook his head. "I gotta get it done… I left these guys in the lurch and now I'm back and I don't even have the songs they need."
"I thought you said Mr. Shue suggested you work on just one specific one for you to sing, a solo, and he would get the others to sing something of their choice."
"Yeah, but…" He frowned. "Their choices suck."
She bit her lip to keep from laughing but failed. "Noah…"
His eyes widened. "Seriously!"
Shaking her head at him, she rose from the couch, taking his hand as she went. "Why don't we go out for dinner? Focus on something else for awhile…"
"Dinner?" His eyebrows hiked as his stomach rumbled approvingly. "Where?"
"I was thinking… BreadstiX," she said, casting her eyes away.
His brows furrowed. "Isn't it Tuesday?" His lips pursed. "That's like, free appy's night. Everybody and their mother'll be there."
She cleared her throat, fidgeting with her dress. "Yes, well… I thought, maybe it could be our first real public date." Her eyes darted around nervously.
He grinned slowly. "You sure?"
She finally stared down at him, letting out a soft sigh. "I can't promise I won't be somewhat nervous, but yes… I-I think we should."
"All right." Nodding, he stood up. "I'm gonna take a shower first and we'll head, cool?"
She smiled. "Sure."
He kissed her, short but hard, before walking past her to the bathroom.
.o.
BreadstiX was packed. He was right, just about everybody he knew was at some table or another.
Rachel clutched her small, sparkly, pink purse tight in her hands as they walked behind the hostess to their table, Puck's hand at the small of her back, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.
"Puck!"
His eyes wandered around for who was calling him until he landed on a table with Finn and Kurt, Burt and Carole all sitting together. The elder Hummel was waving him over.
"Isn't that your boss?" Rachel wondered, looking up at him, her brow furrowed.
"Yeah."
Seeing their attention had been caught, the hostess pointed out their table for them, saying their waiter would be with them shortly, and then returned to the front of the restaurant.
"You mind?" Puck asked her.
Rachel shook her head, leaning into his hand slightly before they walked over to meet the Hummel-Hudson family.
"Hey," Puck greeted, nodding at the table.
Kurt was staring suspiciously at Rachel, his eyes narrowed like he recognized her but wasn't sure from where.
"Hey Puck." Burt squeezed his wife's shoulder. "I was just telling Carole here there was a good reason you haven't been over for dinner in awhile…" He half-grinned at Rachel kindly. "This is Puck's girlfriend, Rachel, Car."
Rachel smiled at the woman widely. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel. Noah's told me a lot of very lovely things about you and your family."
"Has… Noah?" she said, her eyebrows hiked slightly as she turned her eyes on him, a smile stretching her mouth. "I'm glad."
Puck shifted his feet at her expression. He'd known Carole practically his whole life; she was like a second mom to him. He was pretty sure she knew how big it was that Rachel wasn't using the nickname he'd adopted when his dad cut and ran, wanting to be stronger and thinking Noah was too pansy a name for a badass.
"Yes, he said you were a driving force in his childhood… Especially when his mother was so affected by what happened with his father. That you were always there for him. Like on days when his mother had to work late at the hospital and he didn't want to be home alone… He'd always go to your house and you would cut the crusts off his sandwiches for him…" She turned her head up and smiled at Puck. "Peanut butter and honey… Even though Finn only ever ate strawberry jam…" Turning back to Carole, she said, "I'm very glad you were there for him."
Carole stared at her, her eyes wide, before finally she looked up at Puck, her head tilted slightly and her brows furrowed. "I-I'm very glad too," she said, her voice softer, heavier with some unsaid emotion.
Puck's hand slid up the curve of Rachel's back, settling to gently knead the nape of her neck appreciatively. 'Cause she just said something he'd always kinda wanted to say to Carole but never really knew how. Plus, he was pretty sure she just won some serious brownie points with her.
With a wide smile, she reached a hand out toward Finn. "I don't believe we've met either. Although with everything I know about you, I feel like we have… Rachel Berry. It's very nice to meet you."
Finn took her hand and grinned lopsidedly. "Finn Hudson," he said, nodding. "Uh, good to meet you too."
Suddenly, Kurt's expression widened and he slapped a hand down on the table dramatically, drawing they eyes of his family. "The secretary!" he cried knowingly.
Rachel flushed, casting her eyes up at Puck uncertainly. Before he could even try to defend her, she stood up a little straighter and lifted her chin. "Yes," she said, simply. "I did used to work as a secretary at your school."
Kurt looked between them, his lip curled ever-so-slightly. He waved a finger between them. "So you two…"
"Kurt," Burt said, catching his son's eye and giving a subtle shake of his head.
When the table went quiet and Kurt curbed his interest at least enough not to say anymore, Burt continued, "I've already talked to Puck about his relationship… I don't like the circumstances it started under but I do trust him to know what's right for him…" He turned and looked at the couple and nodded shortly. "Rachel's a nice girl, with a good head on her shoulders from all I know… And Puck's an adult now. He can make his own decisions."
With that, the discussion was finished. Burt had made his point clear and nobody seemed interested in refuting it.
"We should go," Puck said, motioning a thumb behind him. "It was nice seeing you guys."
"You should visit more," Carole told him. She looked between him and Rachel and smiled. "Both of you. We'll have dinner, catch up properly."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Cool."
He reached out and bumped fists with Finn before saluting his boss and finally him and Rachel walked off to their table.
"Awkward," he mumbled under his breath.
She looked up at him, shrugging slightly. "Well I think we handled ourselves quite well."
He half-smiled. "Nobody threw rocks… So far, so good."
She scoffed at him even as she grinned.
He pulled her seat out for her before taking his own and without a second's hesitation, Rachel covered his hand atop the table with hers.
"I'm glad we came out," she told him.
He didn't remind her that Kurt, the biggest gossip possibly ever, would probably have it all over the school by morning. Because he was too. He didn't care who knew or what they thought. He picked up his menu and started scanning it for dinner. Forgetting about what everybody might think, about the song he still hadn't written, about everything but having dinner with his awesome girlfriend.
And when the night ended, he still didn't let it get in the way. He dropped her off at home and he left the song-writing and the worrying for another day.
.o.
He didn't know if Finn said something, or maybe what Burt said actually resonated, but Kurt didn't rat him out. Or, at least, Puck wasn't getting any more looks than usual, so as far as he knew, nobody figured out he was on a date with the former secretary last night.
He wasn't sure if he should be thankful or not. Truthfully, he kinda wanted it all out in the open already.
When he really thought about it, it was kind of funny. How when they were together but didn't want others to know, they had to try so hard to keep it quiet. But now that they were together and not trying to keep it a secret, nobody seemed to notice.
Then again, maybe they just didn't give a shit…
.o.
"So what's Secretary Sex wearing to prom?" Santana wondered, raising a brow as she examined her nails in a dismissive manner. "I'm only asking because Brittany wants to double date… And she thinks we should color coordinate or some shit."
Puck snorted, looking up from his lunch to find her taking a seat atop the picnic table he was currently the only occupant of. "Yeah, I don't think we're gonna be cuttin' up the dance floor, San."
She rolled her eyes. "Still worried Sylvester'll sic the pedo-police on her?"
He grabbed up his sandwich for a bite and shrugged at her. "Don't think they'll welcome her with open arms."
"So what?" Her lip curled. "You're eighteen…" She flicked imaginary lint from off her Cheerio's jacket. "You've banged chicks twice her age and nobody was batting an eye then."
"Yeah, well, none of 'em worked for the school."
She pursed her lips at him.
"I didn't bang the English teacher," he muttered, scoffing. "I just hit on her until she brought my grade up so I could still play football."
"Whatever," she muttered. Uncrossing her legs, she hopped down from the table. "All I'm saying is…" She shrugged. "No judgment or whatever." With that, she sashayed away, meeting up with Brittany, who was bouncing excitedly in her direction. Their pinkies linked and they leaned toward each other for a brief, sweet a smile back at him, wiggled a wave hello, and then skipped off happily with her girlfriend.
He shook his head to himself in amusement.
Sure, it took a lot for Santana to wave the gay flag and get her happy on with Brittany, front and center, and hell, that took some serious guts, but it wasn't the same issue he was having. Maybe if Rachel wasn't the secretary before, it'd have been easy to get her in the prom and not have anybody make a big deal. But all the teachers and the principal knew her personally, and he was pretty sure if anybody knew what happened before she quit, there'd be same red flags flying. Yeah, they couldn't fire her, but he didn't want to test the boundaries on what they could do.
Besides, prom was for suckers.
.o.
"I bet you looked wonderful in that white tuxedo," she told him. "You could always reuse it."
Puck rolled his eyes. "Babe, I'm not going to prom."
"Don't be ridiculous, Noah," she harrumphed. "Everybody goes to prom."
He sighed, because she was on a roll now, convinced she could find him the perfect outfit to wear. She wasn't planning on going with him, but she did think he, quote, "should go for the personal experience, if nothing else. It's a milestone that everybody should enjoy at least once in their life."
So when he reminded her he went last year, she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "That wasn't your senior prom, Noah."
There was no winning with this chick.
But, if he was being honest, it was kinda starting to sound cool. The guys wanted to all put in for a big limo and Santana said she and Brittany would be his dates and keep his manwhore ways in check if Rachel wanted. She firmly told him that she had no fears of him straying, but added that if he wanted to go with Santana and Brittany, she would support that. He was pretty sure she was only down with it because they were so in lesbians with each other she knew they'd never go for him. She was probably right, but he wasn't gonna test it anyway.
.o.
Somehow, and he wasn't even sure how exactly, he did end up going to his senior prom. He had Brittany on one arm and Santana on the other when he walked in, but they spend most of the night dancing with just each other. Which was cool because he spent most of the night dancing as a group with the rest of Glee club and seriously, it was actually pretty cool shit.
But he still left early.
Rachel answered the buzzing of her comm. as soon as he stabbed it with his finger. "Lemme up!"
He was in the building and on her floor five minutes later.
She had the door open as soon as he stepped off the elevator, his tux jacket tossed over one shoulder and hooked on his crooked finger.
He half-grinned at her, the fun of the last few hours still radiating through him.
"Hey!" she greeted, fiddling with the belt of her fluffy pink robe as he got closer. "You look very handsome! How was your night? Did you have fu-?"
He cut her off with his mouth slanting across hers.
She sighed, gripping the front of his shirt tight in her fingers.
His free arm slid around her waist and drew her in closer, until she was plastered against his chest.
Her mouth parted for his tongue, dabbing at the underside of her lip and skimming along the roof of her mouth. Her fingers curved, nails biting through his shirt at his chest.
"N-Noah," she panted, blinking her eyes a few times before drawing back just an inch.
He shook his head slightly before stepping closer until she walked backwards into her apartment. He kicked the door shut and tossed his suit jacket in the direction of the closet.
"Missed you," he muttered, kissing her again, teeth grazing her lip lightly.
"I-I just… We-You were…" She shook her head, trying to clear her clouded mind. "We just saw each other this morning," she reminded.
He kissed her again, hand smoothing up her back.
"Are you… I-I mean are you s-sure?" she stuttered breathlessly, hands finding the collar of his shirt, fixing it absently. "You said you wanted to wait, you wanted to be sure…" She swallowed thickly. "You wanted to trust me again."
He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small, square card; he tapped it against her cheek lightly. Her eyes turned and then softened before they found his.
Five words.
Five words he'd used to convince her five months ago.
Five words that told him she was ready and he was ready and they were gonna make it this time.
I can make you happy.
"You do," he told her, voice husky, deep.
Her eyes filled with hopeful tears.
He wiped them away with his thumbs before they could fall and then his mouth was on hers and her hands were reaching, untucking his shirt from his pants. He drew his face back from her and buried it at her neck, pressing kisses right over her fluttering pulse, and down, down, teeth scraping over her collar bone. He untied her bathrobe with quick, wrenching hands, until it hung open, showing just how naked she was beneath it. He pushed at the shoulders until they slid down her arms and finally the fabric pooled at her feet. His hands smoothed over her soft, bare skin, from her neck to her shoulders, down the lengths of her arms and back up, sliding around to her back and wondering down her sides to the ticklish skin of her ribs. He dragged his fingers down along the flare of her hips, thumbs skimming her hip bones. He pressed kisses down between her breasts, cheek flattening against one. His hands squeezed before gliding down and cupping her beneath her butt. He lifted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively.
She smoothed her hand over his 'hawk, curling her fingers at the nape of his neck, nails scraping lightly. "I missed this," she told him, pressing her forehead to his.
"Lotsa time to make up for," he said, smirking.
She laughed softly. "And then?" she wondered, eyebrow quirked.
He walked her back toward her room, kicking her bathrobe out of his way. "I finish school, win Nationals, and graduate. We skip town. You wanna set down roots somewhere, fine. But we still sing; we still try to make a go of it…" He dropped her down on her bed and shrugged. "We can send in demo tapes…" He started unbuttoning his shirt from the top while she reached out and started at the bottom. "Sign up for those stupid reality singing shows." He tossed the shirt to the ground. "We'll set up a YouTube account and get our faces out there, our voices…" He kicked off his shoes and started on his belt. "Whatever we gotta do…" He reached for her, burying his fingers in her hair, drawing her face up to his. "We'll make it, Rach… Together, in music, every damn way, all right?" He licked his lips. "You just gotta trust me… You gotta be all in… We gotta take our chances on each other."
She swallowed tightly, and then, resolve firmly in place, she reached out and undid his pants, tearing the zipper down. "We'll combine YouTube and traveling… We can make videos while we're on the road, moving from city to city, just like I mapped out…" She crawled back on the bed and smiled as his familiar weight covered her. "And if that doesn't work, then we'll try out for The Voice… or something equal."
Her knees hitched high on his hips as he leaned down. "Yeah?"
She nodded. "You make me happy, Noah…" She shook her head. "And I've spent too much of my life being afraid and walking the line and pretending that I don't want to take all of these incredible risks… But I do. I want all of it." She drew her fingers over his shaved head. "I know what it's like not to have it now… Not to have you and those dreams…" Her brows knotted. "Even if we spend our whole lives chasing our dreams and never quite reaching them, it would be better than never having them at all…"
He dragged his thumb over the curve of her eyebrow and grinned as he nodded. "Yeah," he said.
He kissed her then; hard and deep, fingers fisting her hair, hips finding and meeting and fitting against hers.
And it felt good. It felt right and familiar and maybe even better than it did before the shit hit the fan. For awhile it was just his chest pressed to hers, all of her soft, naked skin, warm against his own. But then her hands were pushing at his pants, shoving them down and away. And he shuffled them off, kicking them free.
They rolled across the bed, she always did like to be on top, but he liked to make her fight for it.
He wandered down her body, mouth moving from her neck to her shoulder, nipping at the curves of her tits. He covered one with his hand, the skin of his palm rough, kneading, thumb rubbing around her dark nipple, flicking. His mouth found the other, flattening his tongue around it, circling it, lips and teeth sucking and dabbing until it was pebbled and swollen, until she was leaning up into the suction of his mouth, the teasing flick of his tongue. Her hands gripped his shoulders, rubbing and squeezing his biceps before maneuvering around to his shoulder blades, fingers dipping along the lines as they flexed and moved.
He made his way down to her navel and rubbed his nose against her soft belly, his unshaven cheeks scraping against her until she laughed lightly. He licked the seam of where her hips met her long, long legs and breathed warm, teasing air across the insides of her shaking thighs. He dragged his fingers down them until her breath hitched and her stomach contracted. Until her toes curled and she tried to close her legs around him. He hitched her knees on his hands and pressed them back, spreading her open.
And she watched him, her lower lip caught between her teeth, a warm, wanting flush already coloring her cheeks, her eyes half-lidded, her breathing heavy.
She was already wet for him. He pressed a kiss to her clit before he moved down, his tongue dragging a line along the length of her pussy. Her back arched, chest thrust up into the air, her head thrown back. He followed the same line with the pads of two fingers, before he slid one inside her while his lips sucked gently at her, tongue dabbing, making small circles that grew bigger. His finger thrust shallowly, slowly, teasing her by circling twice before sinking back inside just a little bit more each time.
Her fingers dragged down his hair and circled up; she gripped his ears in her hands and squeezed, before reaching further down and digging her nails into his shoulders. She panted his name the closer she got to coming and then cursed it when he slowed down or even stopped completely, drawing his name on her thighs with his tongue until she wasn't right on the edge anymore. But eventually, with his mouth and his fingers and his nose bumping against her clit, he made her come, screaming his name so loud he thought she might lose her voice.
And then he was climbing up her and she was handing him a condom, her hand shaking, her legs wrapping tight around his waist.
It felt so fucking good to be inside her again; to have her lips against his ear as he fucked her into the mattress. To have her nails dragging down his back and her mouth on his, on his neck, her teeth biting into his skin. To have her hair tangled around his fingers and to smell her, that awesome scent of her skin in every breath he took. To have her pushing him back, forcing her way on top, riding him, cupping his hands around her boobs, squeezing. To feel her coming around him; to watch her as her head fell back and her whole body tensed, her mouth falling open in a silent cry. To lay her back on the bed and wring another orgasm out of her with his fingers curved inside her as his tongue and teeth work on her nipples. To watch her lick his fingers clean before he slid inside her again.
They moved slower then; face to face. Her hands smoothed down his face; her kiss was soft, gentle. And he remembered that this was what he'd been fighting for. Not to fuck the secretary. Not to add another notch to his already infamous stud resume. But for the incredible woman who loved him as he loved her. Who didn't see him as Puck, the hot pool guy, or Puck, the football player. She just saw Noah; the guy who gave her Vegan shit a try and watched Grey's Anatomy with her. The guy who wrote songs and sang them to her in the quiet of her bedroom. The guy who had a soft spot for his nana and admired his ma for all her strength after his dad abandoned them. The guy who rubbed her feet and always left his wet towels lying around. She saw the goofy, insecure dreamer under the Letterman's jacket and the smirk. The guy who always feared he'd get stuck in Lima and turn out just like his dad. Who still thought of Beth every day, wondering if he made the right choice. Who just wanted somebody to believe in him, to love him, to want more with and for him.
When he came, his face was buried at her heart and her name left him on a breathless grunt. He panted against her hot, damp skin, his brow furrowed, his body stretched and shaking. She rubbed his shoulder, kneading the muscles flexing there, and feathered her fingers down his 'hawk, nails dragging back up at the nape of his neck.
"We'll be okay," she told him.
He lifted his head, chin balanced on her chest. And for the first time since he got her back, he really let himself believe that.
When his legs stopped shaking, he dragged her out into the living room for their own prom. They danced naked, with him twirling her and breaking out some truly awful dance moves. She spent most of it just laughing at him, her hair tangled, her hand pressed to her mouth. He'd never felt so lighthearted before.
Later, she fell asleep in his arms, wrapped up in her bed with its too many pillows and matching sheets and blanket.
He woke up some time around four, found a text from his mom that told him to "have a nice time at Sam's," who he remembered saying he was staying with for the night. He hadn't planned to stay with Rachel; in fact, he wasn't even gonna drop by until the next day, him and the guys were gonna get drive-thru McDonald's and play video games the rest of the night. But since everybody and their date looked like they had other ideas and he found the note from Rachel in his pants pocket, he dropped by her place instead.
No regrets.
In fact… Inspiration struck.
He maneuvered out of her grip, pausing when her nose wrinkled, but when she relaxed into the pillow, he slid across the bed and reached for the drawer where he was hoping some of his sheet paper still was. He grinned as fingers touched paper, but when he drew it out, it wasn't lined or marked with the usual "Composed by: Noah Puckerman," or the variation of both their names. Instead, it was page after page of hand-written apologies that Rachel never finished.
They all started out the same, "I know you won't understand and I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused…" but then they would turn into something else. She would write she missed him or that she knew breaking up with him was a mistake and then the letters wouldn't be apologies anymore so much as her wondering why the hell she ever let him go. Why she ever gave up on him. And they always ended the same with something like, "I wish I was strong enough to be everything you need and deserve. I wish I didn't miss you so much. I wish I didn't still dream about everything we could be. I wish you were here. I wish we were already past this and it was just a bump on the road of a long life together. I wish a lot of things I can't have. But most of all, a wish I know is possible, I wish for your happiness, Noah. Share you music, your voice, your passion with the world! Love always, Rachel*"
He read them all, all twenty-seven of them, scratch outs and rewrites and tear-stained pages alike.
And when he was done, the sun was coming up. He put the letters away and he closed the drawer. And he knew, as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her hair, that if he hadn't forgiven her before, he did now. 'Cause she'd been suffering just as much as he had.
They were on equal ground now. Partners. And they were going to get it all, together.
[To be continued: Part IX.]