My Musical Soulmate - M - Puck/Rachel - 9/9 [a]
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: 11,750
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, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII,
You Are The One, The Only (My Musical Soulmate)
-Novel-
IX.
The sun was beginning to set, bathing their surroundings in a warm, orange glow.
"Just throw the ball," he called out, rolling his eyes and waving the bat a little where it was raised in the air.
Rachel stood on the pitcher's mound, with his number 20 baseball jersey tucked into her pristine white skirt. At least she wore sneakers though and not her usual heels. She wrinkled her nose at the ball in her hand. "Noah, I really don't think I can throw that far."
"Don't know 'til you try," he said, shrugging. "Let 'er rip, babe!"
She took a deep breath, smiled at him, and threw the ball as hard as she could.
He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing when it made it only half way and then rolled to a stop in the grass.
Pouting, Rachel stomped her foot and put her hands to her hips. "See!"
Swinging the bat up behind his neck, he walked over bent to grab up the ball. "All right…" He waved his hands around as if to call the rest of the non-existent team forward. "Bring it in…"
Rolling her eyes at his antics, Rachel crossed over to where he stood.
He took her hand from her hip, half-smirking at her, and dropped the ball in her palm. "So throw from here."
"That's not how the game is played…" she reminded, her eyes turned off as she shook her head.
"So we make our own rules…" He walked back to the mound, saying over his shoulder. "We're good at that."
Rachel frowned at him to keep from smiling. "Remind me again why we're even doing this?"
He shrugged, kicking the mound and getting into position again. "'Cause we're hitting up Fenway Park this summer and you don't know anything about the game."
"That's not true…" She tossed the ball lightly in the air. "I know you wear attractive little outfits that accentuate your rear quite nicely."
He snorted. "My ass is always awesome."
Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "And I know you enjoy it, which is why we're going… Also, because I plan on stopping at a lot of museums and I expect you to at least join me." She held up a hand. "I'm not saying you have to enjoy them, although that would be nice, but at least give them a chance!"
"All right, all right, we'll do the museum thing," he told her. "Now throw the ball!"
Rachel drew a deep breath and then blew it out, shaking her arms nice and loose. "Okay…" She took a step back and then raised a brow at him skeptically. "Are you ready?"
Laughing, he nodded. "Bring it."
Rachel bit her lip and threw the ball toward him.
Close enough now, it was at least within reach of the bat.
As he swung, she gave a squeal of surprise and dropped down to a crouched position, covering her head with her arms.
Puck's bat connected hard with the ball and sent it flying far into the field to land unhindered and unchased on the green grass below.
He grinningly stared after it, bat hanging from his hand.
Slowly, Rachel stood back up. "That wasn't so bad," she said, dusting her skirt off.
Chuckling to himself, he tossed the bat away and walked over to her. Not giving her a chance to argue, he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and then took a run toward the first base.
"No-ah!" she cried.
He skidded to a halt on the plate, panting lightly. "I'm gonna make a run for two. Y'think the pitcher's watching?'
"You're ridiculous!" she laughed.
"'m goin' for it!"
"Don't you dare! You put me down this instant! You can't ju- Ahh!"
Puck made a run for second base, hand clamped over the back of Rachel's thigh, grinning as she beat on his back light enough not to hurt but hard enough for him to notice.
When he stopped this time, he nearly fell over, but kicked his foot back to the plate.
"What d'you think? Third too risky?"
Rachel pushed herself up from his shoulder as much as she could. "I think the pitcher has her eye on you and you'll never make iii-Ahhh!"
Off like a shot, he raced toward the third plate and managed to swing her down to her feet as he stopped. Hands on his hips, he grinned at her, panting more obviously now. "All we got is home base to run… You in?"
She stared at him, his face flushed, his eyes twinkling with mischief and amusement, and she started backing up. "Absolutely!" With that, she pivoted on her heel and took off for the plate.
Laughing, he chased after her. He gave a loud, dramatic war-cry as they ran across the plate and threw his hands up in the air, taking one of hers with him, where he twirled her around.
Rachel giggled at him. "Congratulations on your win," she told him, before standing up on her tip-toes to kiss him lightly.
His arms wrapped around her waist and held her close as his nose nuzzled hers and their foreheads touched.
"You ready for this?" he asked her.
She dragged her fingers through the tail of his 'hawk. "In two weeks, you'll win Nationals, graduate, and then it's just one more week and we'll be on the road, traveling, singing, chasing our dreams…" She shook her head. "I've never been more ready for anything in my life."
"Good." He kissed her. "'Cause we're gonna kick ass."
Laughing, she nodded agreeably.
And as the field lights came on, Puck dragged her out to find the ball in the grass, telling her he'd show her how to hit this time and he'd throw the ball.
They spent the rest of their evening in that field, with Rachel donning his jacket when the air began to chill. And when they grew tired of throwing and hitting and running, they laid down on the cool grass and stared up at the sea of stars above. Or Rachel did, while Puck dragged his fingers through her hair and watched her face as it transformed with awe and wonder.
Eventually, they had to leave, and he dropped her back off at her apartment, where she demanded the ball game before kissing him goodnight.
Three weeks, he thought, grinning as he left her parking lot and headed back home.
Just three more weeks.
.o.
Sometimes she found herself thinking she was gong to miss Benny's. The bartender that knew them on sight now, nodding his head in greeting as he wiped out mugs with a rag that lived on his shoulder. The jukebox that never played C3 - Achy, Breaky Heart - and overplayed Springsteen and Mellencamp so much that the buttons were worn thin. The makeshift dance floor that couples would crowd in their denim and boots and swing around, holding tight to each other, laughing, hands knotted together tight. The warm, bathing glow of the spotlight that shone down on her as she and Noah stood center stage, their mics at the ready.
There would be other places, perhaps even replicas of the same, different faces, different songs, but the same place, really. At the heart of it. Bars and open mic nights and whatever stage that called their name, they would be there. But she decided, as she sat at a table with her sweating diet Coke in hand, toe tapping to the Motley Crue song Noah was knocking out of the park, much to the rooms appreciation, that Benny's would always hold a certain affect in her heart.
Maybe because it was where she first learned that she could be happy on a stage. Maybe because its particular spotlight would always be the brightest. Maybe because this was where she and Noah had their first date. Maybe because this crowd, these fans, were their first. Or maybe just because it was the beginning, of all those things; of everything.
Either way, she cherished the last few times she would be there before they were out on the open road, far from Van Wert and Lima and Benny's welcoming crowd.
The room was so warm she could feel a light sheen of sweat on her skin and her face flushing. She smiled widely, and clapped along to the beat of the song, mouthing the lyrics as she watched Noah in his prime, grinning as his fingers moved deftly across the strings of his guitar, as the lyrics came easy to his lips, as rock n' roll pumped through his blood, thick and deep.
And when his voice faded away the crowd roared, she leapt from her seat and gave a sharp whistle, shaking her head when he invited her up and instead cupping her hand around her mouth and shouting, "More!" Because this was his moment to shine, his moment to sing all of his favorite classic rock songs, and she wasn't going to get up there and lighten the tone.
He winked at her before stepping back up to the mic, hands already drawing out a familiar tune, brows hiked high. "You know this one?"
They hooted and hollered and clapped. And Noah took them away into another song that got them roaring and laughing and dancing.
Rachel felt the beat hammering at her chest and in her heart and moving her lips. And she was all the more aware that this was where her life was always meant to go, with the music, following its lyrical pattern, the highs and the lows just beautiful notes she's always been chasing, even when she didn't know it. She wouldn't want it any other way.
.o.
"The hell are we doing here?" he muttered, glaring at the menu.
Rachel slapped his shoulder lightly. "Shh, they're coming over." She smiled, lifting a hand to wave politely. "Do you think we should stand up to greet them?" she wondered, but she was already pushing her chair back.
Sighing, Puck followed suit.
"Brittany, Santana, it's so nice to see you again," Rachel said in hello.
Brittany grinned, bouncing over and grabbing Rachel up in a tight hug. "I totally knew you would work out." As she drew back, she stared at Rachel very seriously. "You're his lobster."
"That's… very kind of you to say," she replied uncertainly, casting her confused eyes to a shrugging Puck.
He looked to Santana, who was taking off an attractive jean jacket. They nodded to each other in a standard greeting and took their seats.
Brittany refused to let go of Rachel's hand as she sat down, instead playing with her fingers absently. "You have soft hands," she told her. "Santana does too… They feel really nice on my skin. Better than boys' hands."
Rachel blinked at her. "That's nice."
Brittany smiled at her. "I told San we needed double dates, because four is always better than two… I'm glad she picked you."
Puck frowned. "I thought you said Brittany was making you come out with us?"
Glaring, Santana scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Whatevs, so I wanted BreadstiX and you were paying."
His brows furrowed. "What? No, I'm not. You kiddin' me? The bill'd kill us. We're saving here. We can't pay for your 'Stix addiction, Lopez."
Twirling a breadstick around as she rolled her eyes, Santana tore the end off with her pearly white teeth. "Slow your roll, Puckerman. I gots mad connections here… They'll give us a deal." Raising a hand in the air, she snapped her fingers, and almost immediately they had a waiter standing before them.
Santana smirked at the couple across from her before saying, "Kenny, Britt and I'll have our special…" She raised a brow at Puck and Rachel. "Well?"
He and Rachel exchanged a look before telling the teen boy their orders. He scurried off quickly toward the kitchen.
She shrugged. "See?"
Brittany leaned into her girlfriend, smiling widely. "You're hot when you're intimidating."
Smiling, Santana leaned over to nuzzle her nose.
Eventually, they broke apart and Santana turned her attention back to Rachel, who had Puck's arm wrapped around his shoulders, fingers twirling her hair. "So… Midget… Where're you working now? And please don't say an elementary school…"
Puck glared at her.
But Rachel took her usual vitriolic jibes with a half-smile. "I work in an office as an assistant; I spend most of my time surrounded by mountains of paperwork."
"What if it rains?" Brittany wondered.
They turned to look at her in confusion.
She looked around at each of them. "If the mountains are paper and it rains… Wouldn't the mountains melt?"
Santana's brows drew together. "Britt-"
"Tell me about Lord Tubbington," Rachel interrupted. "Has he kicked that unfortunate addiction yet?"
Sorrowfully, Brittany drew a deep breath and shook her head. "I've been taking him to meetings, but if he doesn't practice the twelve steps, I just don't know what I'll do with him…"
Rachel nodded. "Well he's lucky to have such a great support in you, Brittany."
The bubbly blonde smiled. "San comes to the meetings too," she boasted.
At Puck's amused brow raise, the Latina pursed her lips and shrugged. "Whatever. He's a good cat."
"Well I think that's very kind of you," Rachel told her. "To care so much."
Santana stared at her out of the corner of her eyes before finally nodding.
"Oh! Oh!" Brittany clapped her hands. "You guys should be on my web-show! Fondue for Two!"
Smirking, her girlfriend nodded. "Definitely…" she agreed.
"Will you?" Brittany looked between them hopefully.
Rachel turned to exchange a look with Puck, wondering how they were supposed to let the eager girl down.
Thankfully, Kenny the waiter arrived with their drinks.
Carefully avoiding the discussion of being on Brittany's web-show, Rachel navigated the odd conversation with some amusement, tempered with a lot of affection for the airy blonde. And as Santana loosened up, she even recognized that beneath the hard exterior was a soft-hearted woman, even if it was really only for Brittany. For her first double-date, Rachel thought it went pretty good, even if Noah and Santana always found a way to snark at each other, making little digs that the other never took to heart, instead looking for a way to out-insult the other. What an odd friendship, she thought, but it worked for them…
By the end of the night, Santana was right, Kenny had given them a deal, but that didn't stop Noah from grumbling as he pulled out his wallet to pay for everybody, after failing to suggest they dine and dash, of course.
"Just a suggestion, babe," he mumbled at her pursed lips, before kissing them quickly. "Just tryin' to save for our future…"
When she still didn't budge, he sighed. "Fine. I'll pay the damn bill…" He glared at Santana. "See if we ever hang with you again."
"Please, pedo-Princess likes my girl," she reminded, nodding her head toward Brittany. "You're hooked now."
He snorted, handing the money over to the waiter. "Not for long," he said, covering Rachel's hand on the table, their fingers knotted.
She smiled back at him, her previous irritation over his dine and dash suggestion gone.
Not long was right. And she couldn't help but smile at how close they were to leaving Lima and hitting the road. Any fears she'd had were long gone; she knew where she was supposed to be, and it was on a stage with Noah.
.o.
Somehow she convinced him that it only made sense that she drive him to McKinley, where they were all meeting up to travel to the airport together. His ma offered, but she was working a double shift and she'd be dead tired by morning, so he figured he'd catch a ride with one of the guys. But Rachel offered up her car and said she'd be happy to take him, even warning her boss ahead of time that she might be late, even though they were getting to the high school at the ass crack of dawn.
Puck rubbed his eyes beneath the shade of his sunglasses and slouched further in the passenger seat, arms crossed, hands tucked up in his armpits. "S'fuckin' cold," he muttered.
Humming under her breath, Rachel readjusted the heat for him, even though it was already blasting. She was being quiet, which was weird. He glanced at her side-long to find she was still chewing on her lip, her brows furrowed.
"What's up?"
"Hm?" She glanced at him, distracted, before returning her eyes to the road. "Sorry?"
"You're a morning person," he said. "You should be all excited and bubbly and shit."
She half-smiled. "I am. I'm very excited for you. I think this is a wonderful opportunity for you and the Glee club to show off your amazing talents and ultimately be crowned victors of show choir."
He blinked. "But…?"
She sighed through her nose. "But, I…" She forced a smile. "I just wish I could be there. I… I'm going to miss you."
Puck shoved his glasses up onto his head, squinting against the angry sun making a bitch of an appearance right toward his eyes. "Rach, I'm only gonna be gone, like, a week, tops."
"I know…" She nodded. "It's just been really nice, all of this time we've been spending together again. And…" She shook her head. "I really am happy for you and so, so proud. I just… I wish I could be there. I love watching you perform!"
He smirked. "Yeah, you do!"
She scoffed at him, reaching over to slap his knee. "Noah!"
He sat up straighter in his seat. "It's cool. It's just one competition, right? I mean, you're gonna be there next to me performing for all the rest, so…"
She nodded. "You're right." She turned off into the parking lot of the school. "And if you have time in between rehearsing and enjoying the sights, we can talk on the phone. One week is hardly any time at all!" she told him, brightly.
"We're good," he assured.
Drawing the car to a halt, she put it in park, undoing her seat belt and leaning forward to pull the trunk release. They each stepped out of their side of the car and circled around. Puck pulled out his duffel bag and hung it over his shoulder.
Chewing her lip again, she stared up at him. "You have everything? You made sure you brought all the necessities?" She pursed her lips. "Even underwear, even though I know how much you dislike wearing it?"
He snorted. "Yeah, sure, got everything… 'Cept my Wolf Among Sheep shirt… Couldn't find it anywhere."
Rachel shrugged. "You left it at my apartment… I wear it to bed sometimes."
His eyebrows arched approvingly. "Hot," he decided.
She rolled her eyes at him lightly before tugging on the strings of his hoodie. "Okay, well, have a nice time! Take pictures and make sure you get some sight-seeing in." Her eyes widened. "Oh, and pay attention to all of the rules and regulations the flight attendants give you, just in case there's some kind of accident and you have to exit the plane mid-air!"
Half-grinning at her worried face, he bent down and kissed her.
Sighing as she parted her lips, Rachel leaned into him. His hand buried in her soft hair, fingers kneading the nape of her neck. Her hands spread out over his chest. His bag slipped off his shoulder and hit the ground. He ignored it, his arm looping around her waist and drawing her in tight. One of Rachel's hands slid up to his neck, nails dragging through his 'hawk. Her teeth grazed over his lower lip while his hand slid out from the cover of her hair, his thumb brushing over her cheek. And when he finally pulled back, she was licking her lips, the fingertips of the hand still against his chest, curling as if to draw him back in.
"I'll call you when I land," he promised, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before he hauled his bag back up over his shoulder.
"Okay." She nodded. "Just remember you're going to be amazing!"
He smiled. "Love you."
Her face softened. "I love you too."
He started toward the waiting bus, where a few of the gleeks were already milling about, yawning, sitting on suitcases, waiting for the others.
When he looked back, Rachel was just opening her car door.
"One week," he shouted to her, walking backwards.
She smiled at him, nodding.
It was stupid, since he was the one just comforting her, but he kinda already missed her as he joined the others.
.o.
Most of the time spent leading up to competition day was filled with preparing. They practiced their songs and their choreography until they were practically doing it in their sleep. Puck liked it though, even if every muscle in his body was aching and he'd about give his left nut to have Rachel in his bed, giving him a massage. He wanted this. Maybe even needed it. After all their hard work, everything they'd done, they deserved this win. And he didn't care if there were other choirs out there that were probably all good people, just like them, because no way they wanted it as much as they did. No freakin' way.
Tomorrow was competition day, but Shue had given them the night off, figuring they were probably burnt out and ready to collapse. Since he was rooming with Mike and Finn, who were both out with their girlfriends, Tina and Quinn, he had the room to himself. Walking across the floor, he stared out at the city that never sleeps, the sights and sounds and lights drawing his eyes every which way. The streets were filled with cabs, the sidewalks with people, and it seemed like a constant blare of one horn, when really it was a bunch of them, all going off one after the other, like an orchestra of big city living.
And he wondered, as he peered down at the ant-like size of all the people, if one day he and Rachel would be in the fray. If, when they got it all, the big record deal and the platinum selling CD's and their names on a Grammy, if they'd live in a place like this. If one day their traveling would bring them back here, a culmination of their hard work, immersed in the big apple, another couple names to add to the history of music.
Standing there, with his sweatpants slung low on his hips, the room behind him quiet and empty, he watched the lights play over the buildings and he thought of Rachel's face when she'd stared at the stars. And not for the first time since he'd gotten to New York, he wished she was there to share it with him.
As if she knew, he heard the buzz and then the ringtone of his phone going off. Walking over to his bed, he fell back on it and grabbed up his cell from the table next to it. "Go for Puck," he said in greeting.
"Hey," she said, brightly.
"Hey, babe…" He settled his head back on an arm curved behind him. He checked the clock and then thought it over. "Don't you have work early tomorrow?"
"Yes…" she sighed. "But I can't sleep."
"What's up?"
She was quiet for a long moment before saying. "Are you alone, back at the motel, or…?"
"Yeah, Finnocent's out with Quinn and Chang-Squared went to an opera or something, I dunno…" He shrugged dismissively.
"So you have a little while then… undisturbed?"
His brows furrowed. "Yeah. Why?"
"I'm wearing your shirt," she told him, her voice dropping an octave. "And only your shirt."
Slowly, his lips curved in a smirk and his arm slid out from behind his head. He tucked his hand beneath his sweatpants, pressing the heel down on his shaft as he imagined it, Rachel splayed out on her bed in nothing but his grey shirt, her legs spread, knees up high, hand fingering the edge of the shirt as it lay pooled at her hips, pressing closer and closer to her slit. Licking his lips, he closed his eyes. "You wet for me, Rach?"
A puff of a sigh left her and he imagined her fingers sliding down, parting her, dragging across her wet pussy, one flicking back up to swirl around her clit.
"I'd be wetter if you were here," she told him. "If your fingers… So long and rough…"
"I got my hands on your soft thighs, pressing them open, sliding closer, tickling your skin… And I'd follow 'em with my teeth; your legs are so damn ticklish…" He gripped his shaft as he thought of it, of his hands framing her as his face dragged against her shaking thigh, teeth and lips nipping and sucking.
Her breath hitched.
"You touching yourself for me, baby?"
"I want your fingers. I want your tongue," she moaned.
"Your fingers are gonna have to do it for me, Rach… You know how I touch you; do it like I do…"
Two fingers, sawing in and out of her, circling her entrance before plunging back in. A swipe of his thumb against her clit randomly, never setting a pattern, keeping her close to the edge but never quite reaching it. If he was there, he'd have his tongue on her, licking a long, flat strip before he'd start pressing suckling kisses all around. And her hands would slid up and cup her little tits, squeezing, thumbs strumming her dark nipples, plucking them.
"Not enough… Not full enough…" she whined.
His hand pumped his cock, wishing he could sink it inside her and fill her up right, feel her, hot and tight, flexing all around him. "Add another finger," he grunted. "You got midget hands."
She laughed breathlessly instead of complaining about his 'misuse' of the word midget.
With his eyes squeezed shut and his ear pressed hard against the phone, listening to her breathy sounds, his hand working over his dick, thumb swiping at pre-cum and rubbing it into the head. He swore he could hear the wet sounds of her fingers moving in and out of her, of her thumb rubbing hard and desperate at her clit.
"My mouth's on your tit, you feel that, Rach? Huh? My tongue on your pretty little nipple?"
"Unnh, God, Noah!"
He knew that sound, that high-pitched cry she made, when she was so close, so damn close, that could actually feel her coming apart. "You're almost there, just a little more…"
His hand moved faster, twisting, until he threw his head back and his hips jutted forward and he felt himself coming, the image of her laid back, her fingers moving frantically inside of her, her body arched, mouth ajar in a silent cry. And then she was muttering his name, "NoahNoahNoah," as she road her fingers right into an orgasm.
It was a few minutes of just panting on either side of the phone before she hummed and he knew she was stretching out, her hand splayed on her belly, legs shaking and body limp.
"You good?" he finally asked.
"Fantastic," she breathed back.
He chuckled. "'m not bad either." He'd have to shower and change his pants, but he figured it was worth it.
"I can probably sleep now," she told him.
"Leavin' me already? See what I'm good for," he teased.
"Well you're certainly good at it, there's no doubting that," she agreed light-heartedly.
He grinned. "When I get back, I want you in that shirt, and I wanna replay of everything you just did."
"Agreed."
They talked a few more minutes, just about their days before eventually saying goodnight. Putting his phone back on the table, he climbed off the bed and walked to the bathroom to get cleaned up. And later that night, as he hugged his pillow and fell asleep, he was still buzzing, and no longer feeling the ache of overused muscles from earlier.
.o.
Puck had never been so nervous. He was shifting from foot to foot, shaking his arms out and cracking his neck side to side.
"Dude, you got this," Finn assured, clapping his shoulder.
He half-smiled for his friends' benefit but he was pretty sure he was gonna throw-up on stage.
Regionals was hard enough, knowing that the song he was singing was his alone. But this was Nationals! This was New York fucking City! He couldn't drop the ball on this.
"Everybody ready? We're up in ten!" Shue called out.
Puck's hands started sweating and his eyes suddenly found the exit sign.
Just then, his phone rang with a very familiar ringtone.
"Whose phone is that?" somebody wondered.
"Guys, you can't have phones on stage! You need to shut them off and put them away!"
Ignoring them, Puck dug his phone out from his pocket. So what if they'd said not to bring it with him, he had it in case of emergencies and he was gonna shut it off when he got called to stage.
"Puckerman! Phone! Off! Now!"
"Slow your roll, it's my girlfriend," he muttered, hitting the Talk button. "Babe, I can't talk. I'm about to go wow the crowd with my awesome skills," he said in greeting.
"Okay, I'll be brief!" she assured. "I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you weren't panicking… Of the two of us, you have far more experience on stage, so I'm sure you weren't, but because I can't see you, I started working myself up into a frenzy," she admitted. "Noah, you may not need to hear it and you may not even want to, but I just want to tell you that I believe in you and your song is beautiful and wonderful and you are going to amaze every single person in that building!"
Slowly, he grinned. "Yeah?"
"Every. Single. One."
"You sound pretty confident…"
"Because I know you… I watched you write that song. I watched you struggle and fiddle with the tune and spend hours and days and weeks making sure that it was everything you wanted. Trust me… They are going to be in love with you by the time you're done singing for them."
He snorted, but scrubbed a hand down his 'hawk as he ducked his head, smiling to himself.
"So go out there and show them what you're made of! Okay?"
"All right."
"I love you."
He nodded. "Love you too."
"I'll see you when you get home… Or, ooh, text me a picture of your trophy, okay?"
He laughed. "Sure."
"Wonderful! Have fun!"
After he hung up, he shook his head to himself, shut his phone off and then tossed it toward Finn. "I'm gonna go win us a trophy," he said simply. "Promised my girl a picture and I don't think any other choir would be down with me stealing theirs…"
As he walked out of the room, he could hear them behind him.
"Did he say girlfriend?"
Mercedes scoffed. "Hold the phone, did White Bread say he loved her?"
"Puckleberry!" Brittany cried.
He could practically hear Santana's smirk. "We're so gonna win."
"Hey, would we get jail time if we did steal another team's trophy?" Finn wondered.
Rolling his eyes to himself, Puck walked over to the stage manager to get ready for his turn.
Nerves gone, he rolled over the lyrics in his head, jumping from foot to foot to get his blood pumping, and then nodded to the guy as his cue was given.
And when he walked out onto that stage, he forgot all about throwing up or making an ass out of himself.
He didn't forget the lyrics or trip over his words; he belted it out until the crowd was on their feet, even singing along to the chorus when they got the hang of it. And by the end of it, he looked around, panting, a grin splitting his face, and he knew Rachel was right.
He just won them Nationals.
.o.
New Directions went home to Lima with first prize; Puck sent a picture of him holding the trophy to Rachel, who sent back a shitload of exclamations and congratulations. Their last night in New York, they celebrated on the town, eating out at a fancy restaurant, the whole group of them singing We Are the Champions, much to the rest of the diners' irritation. And later that night, while Finn and Mike were sleeping, he called Rachel, still too buzzed to sleep.
"Hey," he said quietly, trying to be quiet.
"Oh Noah, I'm so happy for you! I bet you were amazing!"
He chuckled under his breath. "Had to be, since we won."
She sniffled.
His brows furrowed. "Are you crying?"
"I'm just really proud of you!" she defended.
He grinned. "I know."
She snorted, and he knew she was done crying and was probably rolling her eyes now. "Are you ready to come home?" she wondered.
"Yeah…" He shrugged. "S'cool here. You'd love it…" He rolled off the bed and walked to the window, pushing the curtain open to stare down at the city below. "We're gonna come back here one day… You gotta see this place, Rachel."
"I can't wait," she said softly.
He pressed his forehead to the cool glass. "How much longer?" he wondered.
He could hear the smile in her voice. "Not long."
.o.
His ma picked him up from the airport and he spent a couple hours hanging with her and Becca, catching up and pretending he hated how she kept fussing over him and telling him how proud she was of him and how they'd rocked Nationals. But later, he said he was going out, rolling his eyes as she smirked at him knowingly.
Rachel buzzed him in and he was on her floor in a matter of seconds. The first thing he saw as he walked down her hall was her long bare leg coming out of her apartment, and then she swung out, wearing a smirk and his t-shirt. She crooked her finger and he sped up his footsteps, grabbing her up in his arms as soon as he was close enough. With a squeal of a laugh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in hello. He kicked the door behind him closed and bee-lined it for her bedroom, intent on making up for lost time and figuring she could show him how proud she was of him without any clothes on.
They spent most of the evening in her bed, ordering in food and going over every single detail of Nationals and New York. She convinced him to sing the song for her even though she'd heard it a hundred times before. And even as his curfew came and went, he lingered, arms wrapped around her, listening to her hum under her breath, her fingers drawing patterns on his arm. But as she drifted off, he climbed out of bed and got dressed, heading home.
When school rolled around the next day, he walked the halls with a grin. A banner was hung in McKinley, finally proud of them, boasting their achievement. And Puck didn't care if the hockey guys tore it down or nobody else cared what it said or what it meant for them. He cared that they had proof now that they weren't losers, they were talented mofo's. And they were all gonna make it somewhere. He was going to go far in life.
.o.
"So… I was thinking Rachel could meet everybody after graduation," Puck said, pushing the barbell until the stretch in his biceps and forearms burned. McKinley's workout room was practically empty besides them, but he still talked only loud enough for Finn to hear him. "Like officially…"
Sweating, Finn stood next to him, nodding. "Cool. You think she's ready for that?"
Puck grunted. "Yeah, we talked about it. She wants to know them, y'know, before we all scatter, right?"
Frowning, he took a seat on the bench-press next to him, tugging at the towel wrapped behind his neck. "You really think we won't talk after?"
Puck dropped the barbell back into place before shoving up to a seated position. He grabbed his water bottle and sprayed his mouth full. After swallowing and wiping his mouth dry with his arm, he shrugged. "I dunno, man… We're gonna be all over, right? I mean, Rach and I are gonna be like nomads for awhile. Always moving 'til we get our big break."
Finn nodded, lips pressed in a frown. "Quinn's going to Yale."
"Yeah…" His brows furrowed. "What about you? Connecticut your kinda place?"
"I dunno…" He stared at the floor. "I know I love her though… And I don't really have anywhere to be, right? I mean, Burt said I could take over the shop if I want to, but… Do I wanna stay in Lima for the rest of my life?" he wondered.
Puck shrugged a shoulder. "Guess that depends on if you're happy here."
Finn looked at him. "Yeah… I guess." He forced a smile then. "You'll visit though, right? Or if I'm in New Haven, they've probably got a place you and Rachel could sing."
He grinned. "Bros for life," he told him, holding out his fist.
Finn pounded it, smiling sincerely then. "Cool."
[Continue to: Second Half.]