Puck Of All Trades [4/6]
Title: Puck Of All Trades
Rating: M, for language
Characters: Puck, Rachel, Finn, Kurt, Burt
Spoiler(s): Up to current aired US episodes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I get nothing. Please don't sue.
Notes: Inspired by the HIMYM fic of similar design and an Esquire article.
Summary: Noah Puckerman has mastered the 75 skills it takes to be a man.
35) Jumpstart a car (without any drama), Change a flat tire (safely), Change the oil (once).
Incessant knocking interrupts dinner.
Burt groans when he hears it; mutters a curse and rises when it continues after they try to ignore it. Carol offers a tight smile as he orders a half-standing Finn back into his seat and strides toward the front door, squeezing a frustrated Kurt’s tense shoulder as he passes.
The “what the hell?” greeting dies in his throat when he flings open the door and reveals a disheveled, red-eyed Noah Puckerman.
“I need a job,” Puck says without preamble, pushing a shaky hand through his mohawk. “I don’t know much about cars though, and I get that may be a deal breaker, but I’ve changed tires before and I always do my own oil and, you know, I’ve seen a fuck-ton of movies so I could probably jumpstart a car if you need me to, but I just--I can’t…” He bites his bottom lip. “I can’t do the pool thing anymore--I can’t even pretend it’s a pool thing anymore--and Sheet’s n’ Things and Mr. Ryerson…I can’t go back there…”
Burt moves to speak, but Puck shakes his head to interrupt before Burt can even think of what there is to say.
“No. Look, listen, okay?” Puck heaves a breath, exhales. “My little sister asked me why Ma keeps letters in a shoebox instead of shoes and I just… I didn’t know. Okay? I swear I didn’t. If I did I would’ve… I don’t know--I would’ve tried, but there’s just so many fucking bills and--”
Puck breaks off and pitches forward and Burt steps up quickly, gathering the taller jock in his arms. He pushes the back of Puck’s head into his shoulder and tries to soothe him with silent ‘It’s okay-s’ as Puck keeps mumbling, “I just--there’s no--I-I can’t--” but doesn’t finishing anything, breaking off with shuddering breaths.
Burt hires him on the spot.
-
36) Make three different bets at a craps table.
Kurt doesn’t come home one afternoon. It’s not a big deal. Really. He’s been hanging around Mercedes and Blaine and Rachel a lot lately, so he’s usually never home these days. The problem? He’s not answering his phone. And Kurt always answers his phone.
“Mercedes and Blaine haven’t heard from him,” announces Finn, bounding down the steps toward the living room where Burt is having a staring contest with his cell, Carol at his right holding his one hand in both of hers. “And, according to Rachel, Puck’s missing too.”
Burt looks up at that. “Puckerman?”
Finn nods. “He worked at the garage today, but Rachel said his shift ended awhile ago and he’s three hours late meeting up with her at her house. She’s tried his phone, but it goes straight to voice mail, and she hasn’t wanted to call his mom because she’s working and Rachel doesn’t want to worry her.”
Carol’s grip tightens in Burt’s hand, knuckles whitening. “Do you think they’re together?”
Burt’s just about to answer when, suddenly, the front door creaks open and Kurt appears. He blinks owlishly at all of them, converged in the living room, and gives a little wave, “Hello all, sorry I’m late but--”
“Where the hell have you been?” Burt interrupts furiously, hopping up. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I’ve called you a dozen times! We’ve talked about this Kurt. I call, you answer!”
“Dad--”
“No. Kurt this is supposed…”
Burt’s words trail off as the door opens all the way and Puck appears. He’s leaning against Kurt and Burt, just like three weeks ago when Puck appeared at their doorstep asking for a job, freezes at the sight of him -- disheveled, clothes torn and muddy, and a shiner forming round his right eye.
“Sorry Mr. Hummel, that was my fault.” Puck moves to shift some weight off Kurt’s shoulder when suddenly he pitches forward and Finn has to step forward to right him, holding him up more easily than the shorter soprano. Puck grins as Finn pulls him over to the couch, split lip and teeth smeared with blood.
“What the hell happened to you?” asks Finn.
“Not much, just a little fight.”
“Little?“ Kurt scoffs, “He got jumped.”
“Jumped?” gasps Carol, walking from the kitchen with a first aid kit and wet wash cloth. “By who?”
“Some guys at the garage,” supplies Kurt, when Puck doesn’t say. Puck shoots him a glare. “What? You did!” Kurt rolls his eyes and takes the wash cloth from Carol and gently begins cleaning the mud and blood from the jock’s face, Puck wincing every so often. “Just tell them,” says Kurt softly. “Dad won’t be mad at you.”
“Mad?” asks Burt, confused. “Why would I be mad?”
Puck sighs and gently waves off Kurt’s help, taking the wash cloth himself as Kurt nods and moves to sit between him and Finn on the couch. “Right. Okay look, the thing is, I found out some of the guys participate in a gambling ring when you’re not around.”
“Gambling ring?” questions Finn.
“Poker, craps, blackjack -- that kind of stuff.” Puck digs his phone out of his pocket and tries to turn it on, but it doesn’t power up. “I’ll charge my phone when I get home and send you the pics, but it was three mechanics and two other guys I’d never seen before.”
“You got pictures?” asks Burt.
“Yup,” says Puck, and digs into his other pocket to take out a messy wad of bills. “Here’s the money I won. Figured you’d want it.”
“You won?”
“Not a bunch -- those guys were some serious high rollers -- but enough to make them think I was cheating. When we finished craps they all kind of jointly figured that it wasn’t cool anymore that I was taking all their money so they jumped me and stuffed me in the back of their car and dumped me out in the middle of nowhere. Dumb asses left me with the money and my phone though.”
Kurt nods. “That’s when he called me.”
“I was trying for Hudson,” Puck is quick to interject. Finn tries not to look too happy that it was only a mix up that Puck ringed Kurt and not him, but the shit-eating grin on his face is hard to mask. “Didn’t even realize I hit the wrong contact until Hummel got on the line.”
Kurt rolls his eyes. “Anyway, when Puck called me he could only give me a vague description of where he was so I had to use the internet and GPS on my phone to track him down. He was about fifty minutes outside Lima and, needless to say, both our phones died on the way back home so we weren’t able to text or call any of you to inform you of our whereabouts.”
“I’m not fired, am I?” asks Puck suddenly, looking to Burt. “I mean, I’m sorry about the gambling and everything, but I was just trying to give you evidence to show who was in on it and who wasn’t.”
Burt looks from the crumpled bills in his hands to Kurt’s quirked brow to Puck’s wide and worried eyes and sighs.
He gives Puck a raise and fires and files a police report on the three mechanics the next day.
-
37) Shuffle a deck of cards.
Mr. Schuester announces plans for another duets competition and another prize for dinner for two at Breadstix for the winning pair. It’s awesome…for like, two seconds, until Schue drops the bomb that fate will decide their partners. He holds up a small deck of cards and explains partners will be decided by whoever picks matching cards.
Indignant protests rise from all around.
“This didn’t even work the first time we tried,” says Mercedes.
“It’s not even a fair way to pick!” adds Kurt. “Shouldn’t we at least be matched by compatibility?”
“How are we supposed to share at dinner at Breadstix with somebody we don’t even want to sing with?” asks Quinn.
Santana nods. “I ain’t sharing my breadsticks with anybody I don’t like.”
“Enough!” shouts Schue, getting control of the situation. “This,” he holds up the cards, “is how it’s going to be. I know you all have your preferences, and they still might come out like that, which is fine, but we can’t keep holding onto the same partners. Now, who wants first draw?” When nobody makes a move, Schue’s about ready to blow a gasket or something. “Come on guys, I can’t--”
“I got this Mr. Schue.”
Puck hops up and saunters over and throws a wink back at his glee-mates. Schue frowns suspiciously, but decides not to look the gift horse in the mouth and claps encouragingly. “Okay, Puck! Now just--”
“You shuffle these?” asks Puck, interrupting. He takes up the deck and shuffles it, first normally and then complexly, behind his back and over his head and tossing it in the air before straightening the pile and stacking it neatly again. “Better,” he announces before plucking up the first card with a smug grin. “How ‘bout Finn next?”
Finn blinks in confusion before he nods and stumbles forward and takes up the next card, comparing his with Puck before shaking his head when it doesn’t match up.
Schue is just about to call somebody else up next when Puck says, “Berry! You next.”
Rachel, confused, casts a look at the others still sitting and shrugs before she walks up and picks the next card. She holds it out and immediately starts to jump and clap. “Me and you, Noah!” She pecks his cheek and Puck grins as he tells Finn to pick who he wants next, and then Quinn’s coming down and she’s smiling as she picks the card matching Finn’s.
Everybody catches on pretty quickly and soon the pairs work out just the way they’d wanted: Puck and Rachel, Finn and Quinn, Tina and Mike, Brittany and Artie, Sam and Santana, and Kurt and Mercedes.
And as they all look to Schue for further instructions, Schue, red-faced and frustrated, tells them to get into their groups and just practice.
-
38) Tell a joke.
“Hey Berry! How are women and tornados alike? The both--”
Rachel punches him so hard that he finds a fist-sized bruise on his shoulder the next day.
-
39) Know when to split his cards in blackjack.
When he’s not using his talents for underage gambling and rigging duet partners, Mr. Schue actually finds Puck’s card handling intriguing. He takes Puck aside one day and asks him about doing a routine where his skills are at the forefront and, “Do you have a problem with conducting a few tricks during a performance of Kenny Roger’s The Gambler?”
It’s awesome.
They’re in the auditorium practicing when Mr. Schue gets called out and he tells them to take five while they wait for him to come back.
Rachel hops up as soon as Schue’s gone. “Why don’t we run through it one more time?”
Everybody’s quick to shut that idea down as they converge in the middle of the stage and flop down to rest, sipping water and wiping sweat from their faces.
“How ‘bout a round of blackjack?” Puck suggests. He shuffles the deck he‘d been using. “I’ll deal.”
“Why? So you can rig it to let your girlfriend win?” Santana shakes her head and holds out her hand. “I’ll deal.” She takes the cards and shuffles them up herself. “Who’s in? Minimum bet is fifty.”
“Dollars?” squeaks Finn. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Schue will be back any minute,” argues Puck. “We probably only have time for one hand; it’s got to be big.”
“Just bet whatever you want.” says Santana. “Max is fifty.”
Everybody ponies up -- except Rachel, Quinn, and Tina -- and Santana deals and reveals a King showing for herself as she lays another face down. She grins when she sees the card underneath and straightens to begin at her left.
Sam hits on a fifteen and busts at twenty-five and tosses a crumpled five at Santana. Finn, the only one to bet just one dollar, grins goofily as he stays on seventeen. Mike hits at six and then at sixteen and busts with twenty-two, pushing his ten toward a grinning Santana. Kurt loses his five when he busts at twenty-four and coaches Mercedes as she keeps hitting low cards to the end result of fifteen.
“What’ll it be Puckerman?” taunts Santana. “Pretty shitty cards I see there.”
Puck says nothing for a moment. He eyes all the cards laid out on the stage floor and nods before he grins and pulls out another twenty dollar bill. “I’ll split,” he says, separating the eights in front of him to form two independent hands. He pokes one card with a finger and says, “Hit me.” Nineteen. “Stay.” He pokes the other card. “Hit me.” Eleven. “Hit me.” Twenty-one. Puck grins and says, “Stay.”
“Damn it!” says Santana, flipping her other card to reveal a total of eighteen. She takes her twenty-six dollar winnings and tosses it at Puck before she digs into her wallet for more money. “You cheated!”
Puck simply grins as he counts his money.
-
40) Speak to an eight-year-old so she will hear.
Rachel shows up at his house and just about bursts into tears when he opens the door. She actually launches herself at him and throws her arms around his neck the moment she sees him. It freaks the fuck out of Puck and he’s just about to ask who he needs to beat up for making her cry when she suddenly pulls back and punches him in the chest.
“Whoa,” he coughs, laughing off the punch. It hadn’t been hard (she’s too tiny for it to actually hurt), but it surprised him enough to knock the breath out of him. “Whatever it was, Berry, I didn’t do it.”
“I‘ve been calling you!” exclaims Rachel, fists planted on her hips. “Why haven’t you been answering you phone?”
Puck pulls out his cell. “Right. Forgot to turn it back on.” He holds it out when it starts powering up and smiles. “Better?’ She hits him again and he rubs the sore spot on his chest. “What’re you so worked up over? I was going to call you I just had to--”
“Noah?” a soft voice interrupts.
Puck turns and looks down and spots his little sister. She’s dressed in her pajamas and her face is flushed and she’s looking up at him with wide watery eyes. “Hey,” he soothes, bending low so that she doesn’t have to look up at him. “What’re you doing out of bed Hannah?”
“I called and you didn’t answer,” says Hannah, coughing a little into her fist. “My throat hurts Noah.”
Puck places his palm against her forehead before he runs it through her dark hair. “You feel a little warm still. Do you want something to cold to drink? It might soothe your throat.” Hannah nods and Puck nods too before he takes her tiny hand in his and leads her to the kitchen, Rachel following when he gives her a look to shut and lock the door.
“Can I have a soda?” asks Hannah as Puck’s putting ice cubs in a glass. “With a straw?”
“We only have sugary sodas, kiddo,” says Puck. “How ‘bout Gatorade?”
“With a straw?” repeats Hannah.
“With a straw,” nods Puck as he pours the drink and sticks the bendy straw in. He hands it to her and instructs, “Sip slowly.” She does so and he pats her gently on the head before he straightens and turns back to Rachel. “You want a bottled water or something?” Rachel shakes her head and Puck turns his attention back to his sister when she finishes the Gatorade. “Done?” Puck takes the glass and places it in the sink before he bends back down to her level and asks, “Did you eat anything today kiddo?’
“I threw up my lunch,” says Hannah. “I’m hungry now.”
“Okay.” Puck nods. “How ‘bout you hop back into bed and I’ll bring you some chicken noodle soup?” Hannah gives a toothy grin and nods as Puck gently turns her around and pats her back, urging her up the stairs and toward her room. “Go on up and get under the covers, okay? I’ll be up in a minute.” He watches until she disappears around the corner and out of sight.
“You were taking care of you sister?” asks Rachel, her expression softening as he nods. “She’s sick?”
“She got sent home. Ma had to work so I got out during fifth and took her to the doctor’s office, which is where I turned off my phone by the way. Just a fever, the doc said, probably a twenty-four hour bug.”
“Oh..”
“Why were you getting so bent out of shape for? I was going to call you.”
“You missed Glee and…” Rachel trails off and shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m sorry, I’m just a little paranoid. Last time you wouldn’t answer your phone you got beat up by those horrid mechanics and dumped out in the middle of nowhere. I was worried.”
Puck rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Look Rach--”
“Noah!” Hannah calls out suddenly from somewhere upstairs. “Noah? Where are you?”
Puck looks torn, stuck between his sister and girlfriend.
“Go,” Rachel tells him smiling. “Your sister needs you.”
“Will you stay?” Puck asks.
“I’ll start the chicken soup.”
-
41) Speak to a waiter so he will hear.
They don’t win the duets competition. They don’t get free dinner at Breadstix.
But Puck takes Rachel out anyway.
“Why are we here?” asks Rachel, squirming in their booth at a restaurant that is not Breadstix. “We lost. This is no cause for celebration. Isn’t there some kind of teenaged angst rule that says we’re supposed to be at home sitting on the couch in our sweats crying over a tub of ice cream while we wallow in our own self-pity?”
“It’s not the end of the world.” Puck points at the tabletop menu. “Look, they have ice cream here, how ‘bout you and I split a triple fudge sundae?”
“I was exaggerating Noah, the dairy--”
“Rach.”
“Fine.” Rachel sighs. “But I get the cherry.”
Puck nods as he flags down the waiter and gives the order.
The waiter is a pale-faced teenager probably a grade or two lower than them and he looks at Rachel with a smarmy smirk.
“I don’t like that kid,” says Puck as soon as he’s gone. “He was lookin’ at you funny.”
“It was quite unnerving,” admits Rachel.
The waiter comes back not a minute later and he’s got a large pitcher of ice water. He grins toothily at Rachel and points at the half-empty glass in front of her. “Refill ma’am?” He doesn’t even wait for Rachel to nod before he’s leaning forward and… Splash! Water goes all over her…
All over her white shirt.
Rachel shrieks and Smarmy Waiter jumps at the opportunity. He whips out the washcloth hanging out his apron and starts reaching for Rachel, saying things like “I’m so sorry” and “I didn’t mean to” and “Let me just get that for you ma’am…”
Puck has none of that. He’s up and wrapping a hand in Smarmy Waiter’s shirt collar before the pimple-faced brat can get his grubby hands on Rachel.
The manager is at their table immediately and Rachel, having been thrown Puck’s letterman jacket to cover herself up, understands how the situation kind of looks like Puck’s attacking their waiter for no reason and immediately starts up the waterworks.
One hour later Rachel and Puck walk out of the diner, full off ice cream and reveling in their victory of getting Smarmy Waiter fired.
Justice served. Duets competition forgotten.
-
42) Talk to a dog so it will hear.
He smuggles a puppy into school this time. It doesn’t fit in his locker though, so he ends up hiding it in the instrument closet in the choir room.
He gets caught because it starts howling during Rachel’s solo at the beginning of Glee rehearsal.
“Don’t touch her!” Puck jumps from his seat and swipes the puppy up into his arms before Schue can get to her. He realizes he probably looks like a crazy person, cradling the bundle of fur under his jacket and against his chest away from everybody, but he found her so that make her his, right?
Schue sighs. “Puck, how long has this dog been here?”
“Just this morning.”
He leaves out the fact he found her on the way to school when he nearly hit her with his truck while she was crossing the street and that he had freaked so much that he just couldn’t leave her out there. He also doesn’t admit he’s been playing with her and feeding her scraps between classes and how he’s always wanted a dog and, holy crap, he really wants this one.
“Puck, you know there’s no dogs allowed on school grounds.”
“Can’t she say?” asks Rachel suddenly, stepping forward to pat the puppy’s head, soft smile gracing her face when the puppy pokes her head out of Puck’s jacket and licks her outstretched hand. Rachel turns back to Schue. “The school day is over, Mr. Schue. No harm is done.”
“I’ll keep her quiet,” promises Puck, and everybody’s surprised at how eager he is. “She barely makes any noises; hasn’t barked all day except for when she started howling during Berry’s song.”
“Pup has good taste,” pipes up Santana. “Song sucked.”
“I’ll have you know Barbara Strei--!”
“Okay, okay,” says Schue, placing a hand on Rachel’s shoulder to calm her. “That’s enough.” He sighs. “The dog can stay.”
Puck fist bumps the air and hugs the puppy a little closer to his chest before he holds it out in front of his face and coos at her, letting her lick his nose and grinning an uncharacteristically wide grin as he continues petting and whispering soft baby talk to her.
“Puck?”
“Hmmm?” asks Puck, too distracted with puppy-love.
Schue sighs and can’t help but smile at the teen’s enthusiasm as he shakes his head and tells him, “No more animals.”
-
43) Install: a disposal, an electronic thermostat, or a lighting fixture without asking for help.
“Stop!”
Rachel jumps and drops her screwdriver as hands wrap around her hips and pulls her off the stepladder she’d been standing on to reach the light fixture she’d been trying to replace.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” asks Puck, setting her on the ground. “You tryin’ to kill yourself or somethin’?”
“No need for dramatics, Noah.” Rachel huffs, “I was simply--”
“Turn off the damn main,” says Puck, flipping the light switch to off. “Do you want to get electrocuted?”
Rachel blushes and frowns and hands him the screwdriver when he holds out his hand for the tool in order to take over.
-
44) Ask for help.
Puck speed walks through the halls and spots Rachel immediately. She opens her mouth to greet him but he just grabs her wrist and tugs her into an empty classroom before she can get a word in. She gives him a funny look, probably ready to berate him for moving her so harshly, but he just sticks a sheet of paper under her nose and she just lifts a brow and takes it.
Puck thinks this must be what a heart attack feels like.
Her eyes rove over the page and then snap immediately back up to him. “Noah…” she starts, but doesn’t finish as she bites her lower lip and then returns her gaze to the paper in her hands. “This is…” she starts again, but doesn’t finish that either and just keeps reading.
“It’s rough,” Puck admits. “I’ve been working on it for a week or two and it’s no Get It Right or Loser Like Me, but it’s just…”
“Yours.” And Rachel finally looks up and she’s grinning and Puck can’t manage to get his hands to stop shaking. “It’s amazing Noah. You write wonderfully.”
Puck nods, unable to speak his gratitude at the compliment. “Look, I just… Mr. Schue came up to me a few days after we won Regionals and he said he noticed how I contributed a lot to writing Loser Like Me and he just kept complimenting me and my music and…” Puck shrugs. “We got to talking about colleges and scholarships and he said that maybe I could… I dunno…” Puck grips the back of his neck with one hand. “I’d do anything to get outta this town and I just need… I-I need help.”
“I understand.” And holy crap she does. Sincerely. It's mind-boggling to Puck “This is what we’re going to do -- First, I need you to go to Ms. Pillsbury today and get your transcripts and your latest report card. I want your grades and I want your homework and I want a calendar of your upcoming tests. Starting today, I’m tutoring you. We’ll work out the schedule later. Then, when we see where you stand academically, we’ll go over your extracurricular activities -- football and Glee will look amazing, I have no doubt -- and your work history. After that we’ll look into degree programs and schools and--”
“Rach,” Puck interrupts, but can say no more so he ducks his head and takes in a deep, shuddering breath.
Rachel smiles at the emotions fluttering across Puck and walks up to him and places her hands on either side of his face and looks up at him with this smile that’s just so soft and warm and so full of belief in him that Puck can’t help the catch in his throat.
“I’m going to help you with this,” she tells him.
Puck can do nothing but nod and smile and wrap her in the tightest hug he’s ever given in his entire life and bury his face in her soft hair.
Rating: M, for language
Characters: Puck, Rachel, Finn, Kurt, Burt
Spoiler(s): Up to current aired US episodes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I get nothing. Please don't sue.
Notes: Inspired by the HIMYM fic of similar design and an Esquire article.
Summary: Noah Puckerman has mastered the 75 skills it takes to be a man.
35) Jumpstart a car (without any drama), Change a flat tire (safely), Change the oil (once).
Incessant knocking interrupts dinner.
Burt groans when he hears it; mutters a curse and rises when it continues after they try to ignore it. Carol offers a tight smile as he orders a half-standing Finn back into his seat and strides toward the front door, squeezing a frustrated Kurt’s tense shoulder as he passes.
The “what the hell?” greeting dies in his throat when he flings open the door and reveals a disheveled, red-eyed Noah Puckerman.
“I need a job,” Puck says without preamble, pushing a shaky hand through his mohawk. “I don’t know much about cars though, and I get that may be a deal breaker, but I’ve changed tires before and I always do my own oil and, you know, I’ve seen a fuck-ton of movies so I could probably jumpstart a car if you need me to, but I just--I can’t…” He bites his bottom lip. “I can’t do the pool thing anymore--I can’t even pretend it’s a pool thing anymore--and Sheet’s n’ Things and Mr. Ryerson…I can’t go back there…”
Burt moves to speak, but Puck shakes his head to interrupt before Burt can even think of what there is to say.
“No. Look, listen, okay?” Puck heaves a breath, exhales. “My little sister asked me why Ma keeps letters in a shoebox instead of shoes and I just… I didn’t know. Okay? I swear I didn’t. If I did I would’ve… I don’t know--I would’ve tried, but there’s just so many fucking bills and--”
Puck breaks off and pitches forward and Burt steps up quickly, gathering the taller jock in his arms. He pushes the back of Puck’s head into his shoulder and tries to soothe him with silent ‘It’s okay-s’ as Puck keeps mumbling, “I just--there’s no--I-I can’t--” but doesn’t finishing anything, breaking off with shuddering breaths.
Burt hires him on the spot.
-
36) Make three different bets at a craps table.
Kurt doesn’t come home one afternoon. It’s not a big deal. Really. He’s been hanging around Mercedes and Blaine and Rachel a lot lately, so he’s usually never home these days. The problem? He’s not answering his phone. And Kurt always answers his phone.
“Mercedes and Blaine haven’t heard from him,” announces Finn, bounding down the steps toward the living room where Burt is having a staring contest with his cell, Carol at his right holding his one hand in both of hers. “And, according to Rachel, Puck’s missing too.”
Burt looks up at that. “Puckerman?”
Finn nods. “He worked at the garage today, but Rachel said his shift ended awhile ago and he’s three hours late meeting up with her at her house. She’s tried his phone, but it goes straight to voice mail, and she hasn’t wanted to call his mom because she’s working and Rachel doesn’t want to worry her.”
Carol’s grip tightens in Burt’s hand, knuckles whitening. “Do you think they’re together?”
Burt’s just about to answer when, suddenly, the front door creaks open and Kurt appears. He blinks owlishly at all of them, converged in the living room, and gives a little wave, “Hello all, sorry I’m late but--”
“Where the hell have you been?” Burt interrupts furiously, hopping up. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I’ve called you a dozen times! We’ve talked about this Kurt. I call, you answer!”
“Dad--”
“No. Kurt this is supposed…”
Burt’s words trail off as the door opens all the way and Puck appears. He’s leaning against Kurt and Burt, just like three weeks ago when Puck appeared at their doorstep asking for a job, freezes at the sight of him -- disheveled, clothes torn and muddy, and a shiner forming round his right eye.
“Sorry Mr. Hummel, that was my fault.” Puck moves to shift some weight off Kurt’s shoulder when suddenly he pitches forward and Finn has to step forward to right him, holding him up more easily than the shorter soprano. Puck grins as Finn pulls him over to the couch, split lip and teeth smeared with blood.
“What the hell happened to you?” asks Finn.
“Not much, just a little fight.”
“Little?“ Kurt scoffs, “He got jumped.”
“Jumped?” gasps Carol, walking from the kitchen with a first aid kit and wet wash cloth. “By who?”
“Some guys at the garage,” supplies Kurt, when Puck doesn’t say. Puck shoots him a glare. “What? You did!” Kurt rolls his eyes and takes the wash cloth from Carol and gently begins cleaning the mud and blood from the jock’s face, Puck wincing every so often. “Just tell them,” says Kurt softly. “Dad won’t be mad at you.”
“Mad?” asks Burt, confused. “Why would I be mad?”
Puck sighs and gently waves off Kurt’s help, taking the wash cloth himself as Kurt nods and moves to sit between him and Finn on the couch. “Right. Okay look, the thing is, I found out some of the guys participate in a gambling ring when you’re not around.”
“Gambling ring?” questions Finn.
“Poker, craps, blackjack -- that kind of stuff.” Puck digs his phone out of his pocket and tries to turn it on, but it doesn’t power up. “I’ll charge my phone when I get home and send you the pics, but it was three mechanics and two other guys I’d never seen before.”
“You got pictures?” asks Burt.
“Yup,” says Puck, and digs into his other pocket to take out a messy wad of bills. “Here’s the money I won. Figured you’d want it.”
“You won?”
“Not a bunch -- those guys were some serious high rollers -- but enough to make them think I was cheating. When we finished craps they all kind of jointly figured that it wasn’t cool anymore that I was taking all their money so they jumped me and stuffed me in the back of their car and dumped me out in the middle of nowhere. Dumb asses left me with the money and my phone though.”
Kurt nods. “That’s when he called me.”
“I was trying for Hudson,” Puck is quick to interject. Finn tries not to look too happy that it was only a mix up that Puck ringed Kurt and not him, but the shit-eating grin on his face is hard to mask. “Didn’t even realize I hit the wrong contact until Hummel got on the line.”
Kurt rolls his eyes. “Anyway, when Puck called me he could only give me a vague description of where he was so I had to use the internet and GPS on my phone to track him down. He was about fifty minutes outside Lima and, needless to say, both our phones died on the way back home so we weren’t able to text or call any of you to inform you of our whereabouts.”
“I’m not fired, am I?” asks Puck suddenly, looking to Burt. “I mean, I’m sorry about the gambling and everything, but I was just trying to give you evidence to show who was in on it and who wasn’t.”
Burt looks from the crumpled bills in his hands to Kurt’s quirked brow to Puck’s wide and worried eyes and sighs.
He gives Puck a raise and fires and files a police report on the three mechanics the next day.
-
37) Shuffle a deck of cards.
Mr. Schuester announces plans for another duets competition and another prize for dinner for two at Breadstix for the winning pair. It’s awesome…for like, two seconds, until Schue drops the bomb that fate will decide their partners. He holds up a small deck of cards and explains partners will be decided by whoever picks matching cards.
Indignant protests rise from all around.
“This didn’t even work the first time we tried,” says Mercedes.
“It’s not even a fair way to pick!” adds Kurt. “Shouldn’t we at least be matched by compatibility?”
“How are we supposed to share at dinner at Breadstix with somebody we don’t even want to sing with?” asks Quinn.
Santana nods. “I ain’t sharing my breadsticks with anybody I don’t like.”
“Enough!” shouts Schue, getting control of the situation. “This,” he holds up the cards, “is how it’s going to be. I know you all have your preferences, and they still might come out like that, which is fine, but we can’t keep holding onto the same partners. Now, who wants first draw?” When nobody makes a move, Schue’s about ready to blow a gasket or something. “Come on guys, I can’t--”
“I got this Mr. Schue.”
Puck hops up and saunters over and throws a wink back at his glee-mates. Schue frowns suspiciously, but decides not to look the gift horse in the mouth and claps encouragingly. “Okay, Puck! Now just--”
“You shuffle these?” asks Puck, interrupting. He takes up the deck and shuffles it, first normally and then complexly, behind his back and over his head and tossing it in the air before straightening the pile and stacking it neatly again. “Better,” he announces before plucking up the first card with a smug grin. “How ‘bout Finn next?”
Finn blinks in confusion before he nods and stumbles forward and takes up the next card, comparing his with Puck before shaking his head when it doesn’t match up.
Schue is just about to call somebody else up next when Puck says, “Berry! You next.”
Rachel, confused, casts a look at the others still sitting and shrugs before she walks up and picks the next card. She holds it out and immediately starts to jump and clap. “Me and you, Noah!” She pecks his cheek and Puck grins as he tells Finn to pick who he wants next, and then Quinn’s coming down and she’s smiling as she picks the card matching Finn’s.
Everybody catches on pretty quickly and soon the pairs work out just the way they’d wanted: Puck and Rachel, Finn and Quinn, Tina and Mike, Brittany and Artie, Sam and Santana, and Kurt and Mercedes.
And as they all look to Schue for further instructions, Schue, red-faced and frustrated, tells them to get into their groups and just practice.
-
38) Tell a joke.
“Hey Berry! How are women and tornados alike? The both--”
Rachel punches him so hard that he finds a fist-sized bruise on his shoulder the next day.
-
39) Know when to split his cards in blackjack.
When he’s not using his talents for underage gambling and rigging duet partners, Mr. Schue actually finds Puck’s card handling intriguing. He takes Puck aside one day and asks him about doing a routine where his skills are at the forefront and, “Do you have a problem with conducting a few tricks during a performance of Kenny Roger’s The Gambler?”
It’s awesome.
They’re in the auditorium practicing when Mr. Schue gets called out and he tells them to take five while they wait for him to come back.
Rachel hops up as soon as Schue’s gone. “Why don’t we run through it one more time?”
Everybody’s quick to shut that idea down as they converge in the middle of the stage and flop down to rest, sipping water and wiping sweat from their faces.
“How ‘bout a round of blackjack?” Puck suggests. He shuffles the deck he‘d been using. “I’ll deal.”
“Why? So you can rig it to let your girlfriend win?” Santana shakes her head and holds out her hand. “I’ll deal.” She takes the cards and shuffles them up herself. “Who’s in? Minimum bet is fifty.”
“Dollars?” squeaks Finn. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Schue will be back any minute,” argues Puck. “We probably only have time for one hand; it’s got to be big.”
“Just bet whatever you want.” says Santana. “Max is fifty.”
Everybody ponies up -- except Rachel, Quinn, and Tina -- and Santana deals and reveals a King showing for herself as she lays another face down. She grins when she sees the card underneath and straightens to begin at her left.
Sam hits on a fifteen and busts at twenty-five and tosses a crumpled five at Santana. Finn, the only one to bet just one dollar, grins goofily as he stays on seventeen. Mike hits at six and then at sixteen and busts with twenty-two, pushing his ten toward a grinning Santana. Kurt loses his five when he busts at twenty-four and coaches Mercedes as she keeps hitting low cards to the end result of fifteen.
“What’ll it be Puckerman?” taunts Santana. “Pretty shitty cards I see there.”
Puck says nothing for a moment. He eyes all the cards laid out on the stage floor and nods before he grins and pulls out another twenty dollar bill. “I’ll split,” he says, separating the eights in front of him to form two independent hands. He pokes one card with a finger and says, “Hit me.” Nineteen. “Stay.” He pokes the other card. “Hit me.” Eleven. “Hit me.” Twenty-one. Puck grins and says, “Stay.”
“Damn it!” says Santana, flipping her other card to reveal a total of eighteen. She takes her twenty-six dollar winnings and tosses it at Puck before she digs into her wallet for more money. “You cheated!”
Puck simply grins as he counts his money.
-
40) Speak to an eight-year-old so she will hear.
Rachel shows up at his house and just about bursts into tears when he opens the door. She actually launches herself at him and throws her arms around his neck the moment she sees him. It freaks the fuck out of Puck and he’s just about to ask who he needs to beat up for making her cry when she suddenly pulls back and punches him in the chest.
“Whoa,” he coughs, laughing off the punch. It hadn’t been hard (she’s too tiny for it to actually hurt), but it surprised him enough to knock the breath out of him. “Whatever it was, Berry, I didn’t do it.”
“I‘ve been calling you!” exclaims Rachel, fists planted on her hips. “Why haven’t you been answering you phone?”
Puck pulls out his cell. “Right. Forgot to turn it back on.” He holds it out when it starts powering up and smiles. “Better?’ She hits him again and he rubs the sore spot on his chest. “What’re you so worked up over? I was going to call you I just had to--”
“Noah?” a soft voice interrupts.
Puck turns and looks down and spots his little sister. She’s dressed in her pajamas and her face is flushed and she’s looking up at him with wide watery eyes. “Hey,” he soothes, bending low so that she doesn’t have to look up at him. “What’re you doing out of bed Hannah?”
“I called and you didn’t answer,” says Hannah, coughing a little into her fist. “My throat hurts Noah.”
Puck places his palm against her forehead before he runs it through her dark hair. “You feel a little warm still. Do you want something to cold to drink? It might soothe your throat.” Hannah nods and Puck nods too before he takes her tiny hand in his and leads her to the kitchen, Rachel following when he gives her a look to shut and lock the door.
“Can I have a soda?” asks Hannah as Puck’s putting ice cubs in a glass. “With a straw?”
“We only have sugary sodas, kiddo,” says Puck. “How ‘bout Gatorade?”
“With a straw?” repeats Hannah.
“With a straw,” nods Puck as he pours the drink and sticks the bendy straw in. He hands it to her and instructs, “Sip slowly.” She does so and he pats her gently on the head before he straightens and turns back to Rachel. “You want a bottled water or something?” Rachel shakes her head and Puck turns his attention back to his sister when she finishes the Gatorade. “Done?” Puck takes the glass and places it in the sink before he bends back down to her level and asks, “Did you eat anything today kiddo?’
“I threw up my lunch,” says Hannah. “I’m hungry now.”
“Okay.” Puck nods. “How ‘bout you hop back into bed and I’ll bring you some chicken noodle soup?” Hannah gives a toothy grin and nods as Puck gently turns her around and pats her back, urging her up the stairs and toward her room. “Go on up and get under the covers, okay? I’ll be up in a minute.” He watches until she disappears around the corner and out of sight.
“You were taking care of you sister?” asks Rachel, her expression softening as he nods. “She’s sick?”
“She got sent home. Ma had to work so I got out during fifth and took her to the doctor’s office, which is where I turned off my phone by the way. Just a fever, the doc said, probably a twenty-four hour bug.”
“Oh..”
“Why were you getting so bent out of shape for? I was going to call you.”
“You missed Glee and…” Rachel trails off and shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m sorry, I’m just a little paranoid. Last time you wouldn’t answer your phone you got beat up by those horrid mechanics and dumped out in the middle of nowhere. I was worried.”
Puck rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Look Rach--”
“Noah!” Hannah calls out suddenly from somewhere upstairs. “Noah? Where are you?”
Puck looks torn, stuck between his sister and girlfriend.
“Go,” Rachel tells him smiling. “Your sister needs you.”
“Will you stay?” Puck asks.
“I’ll start the chicken soup.”
-
41) Speak to a waiter so he will hear.
They don’t win the duets competition. They don’t get free dinner at Breadstix.
But Puck takes Rachel out anyway.
“Why are we here?” asks Rachel, squirming in their booth at a restaurant that is not Breadstix. “We lost. This is no cause for celebration. Isn’t there some kind of teenaged angst rule that says we’re supposed to be at home sitting on the couch in our sweats crying over a tub of ice cream while we wallow in our own self-pity?”
“It’s not the end of the world.” Puck points at the tabletop menu. “Look, they have ice cream here, how ‘bout you and I split a triple fudge sundae?”
“I was exaggerating Noah, the dairy--”
“Rach.”
“Fine.” Rachel sighs. “But I get the cherry.”
Puck nods as he flags down the waiter and gives the order.
The waiter is a pale-faced teenager probably a grade or two lower than them and he looks at Rachel with a smarmy smirk.
“I don’t like that kid,” says Puck as soon as he’s gone. “He was lookin’ at you funny.”
“It was quite unnerving,” admits Rachel.
The waiter comes back not a minute later and he’s got a large pitcher of ice water. He grins toothily at Rachel and points at the half-empty glass in front of her. “Refill ma’am?” He doesn’t even wait for Rachel to nod before he’s leaning forward and… Splash! Water goes all over her…
All over her white shirt.
Rachel shrieks and Smarmy Waiter jumps at the opportunity. He whips out the washcloth hanging out his apron and starts reaching for Rachel, saying things like “I’m so sorry” and “I didn’t mean to” and “Let me just get that for you ma’am…”
Puck has none of that. He’s up and wrapping a hand in Smarmy Waiter’s shirt collar before the pimple-faced brat can get his grubby hands on Rachel.
The manager is at their table immediately and Rachel, having been thrown Puck’s letterman jacket to cover herself up, understands how the situation kind of looks like Puck’s attacking their waiter for no reason and immediately starts up the waterworks.
One hour later Rachel and Puck walk out of the diner, full off ice cream and reveling in their victory of getting Smarmy Waiter fired.
Justice served. Duets competition forgotten.
-
42) Talk to a dog so it will hear.
He smuggles a puppy into school this time. It doesn’t fit in his locker though, so he ends up hiding it in the instrument closet in the choir room.
He gets caught because it starts howling during Rachel’s solo at the beginning of Glee rehearsal.
“Don’t touch her!” Puck jumps from his seat and swipes the puppy up into his arms before Schue can get to her. He realizes he probably looks like a crazy person, cradling the bundle of fur under his jacket and against his chest away from everybody, but he found her so that make her his, right?
Schue sighs. “Puck, how long has this dog been here?”
“Just this morning.”
He leaves out the fact he found her on the way to school when he nearly hit her with his truck while she was crossing the street and that he had freaked so much that he just couldn’t leave her out there. He also doesn’t admit he’s been playing with her and feeding her scraps between classes and how he’s always wanted a dog and, holy crap, he really wants this one.
“Puck, you know there’s no dogs allowed on school grounds.”
“Can’t she say?” asks Rachel suddenly, stepping forward to pat the puppy’s head, soft smile gracing her face when the puppy pokes her head out of Puck’s jacket and licks her outstretched hand. Rachel turns back to Schue. “The school day is over, Mr. Schue. No harm is done.”
“I’ll keep her quiet,” promises Puck, and everybody’s surprised at how eager he is. “She barely makes any noises; hasn’t barked all day except for when she started howling during Berry’s song.”
“Pup has good taste,” pipes up Santana. “Song sucked.”
“I’ll have you know Barbara Strei--!”
“Okay, okay,” says Schue, placing a hand on Rachel’s shoulder to calm her. “That’s enough.” He sighs. “The dog can stay.”
Puck fist bumps the air and hugs the puppy a little closer to his chest before he holds it out in front of his face and coos at her, letting her lick his nose and grinning an uncharacteristically wide grin as he continues petting and whispering soft baby talk to her.
“Puck?”
“Hmmm?” asks Puck, too distracted with puppy-love.
Schue sighs and can’t help but smile at the teen’s enthusiasm as he shakes his head and tells him, “No more animals.”
-
43) Install: a disposal, an electronic thermostat, or a lighting fixture without asking for help.
“Stop!”
Rachel jumps and drops her screwdriver as hands wrap around her hips and pulls her off the stepladder she’d been standing on to reach the light fixture she’d been trying to replace.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” asks Puck, setting her on the ground. “You tryin’ to kill yourself or somethin’?”
“No need for dramatics, Noah.” Rachel huffs, “I was simply--”
“Turn off the damn main,” says Puck, flipping the light switch to off. “Do you want to get electrocuted?”
Rachel blushes and frowns and hands him the screwdriver when he holds out his hand for the tool in order to take over.
-
44) Ask for help.
Puck speed walks through the halls and spots Rachel immediately. She opens her mouth to greet him but he just grabs her wrist and tugs her into an empty classroom before she can get a word in. She gives him a funny look, probably ready to berate him for moving her so harshly, but he just sticks a sheet of paper under her nose and she just lifts a brow and takes it.
Puck thinks this must be what a heart attack feels like.
Her eyes rove over the page and then snap immediately back up to him. “Noah…” she starts, but doesn’t finish as she bites her lower lip and then returns her gaze to the paper in her hands. “This is…” she starts again, but doesn’t finish that either and just keeps reading.
“It’s rough,” Puck admits. “I’ve been working on it for a week or two and it’s no Get It Right or Loser Like Me, but it’s just…”
“Yours.” And Rachel finally looks up and she’s grinning and Puck can’t manage to get his hands to stop shaking. “It’s amazing Noah. You write wonderfully.”
Puck nods, unable to speak his gratitude at the compliment. “Look, I just… Mr. Schue came up to me a few days after we won Regionals and he said he noticed how I contributed a lot to writing Loser Like Me and he just kept complimenting me and my music and…” Puck shrugs. “We got to talking about colleges and scholarships and he said that maybe I could… I dunno…” Puck grips the back of his neck with one hand. “I’d do anything to get outta this town and I just need… I-I need help.”
“I understand.” And holy crap she does. Sincerely. It's mind-boggling to Puck “This is what we’re going to do -- First, I need you to go to Ms. Pillsbury today and get your transcripts and your latest report card. I want your grades and I want your homework and I want a calendar of your upcoming tests. Starting today, I’m tutoring you. We’ll work out the schedule later. Then, when we see where you stand academically, we’ll go over your extracurricular activities -- football and Glee will look amazing, I have no doubt -- and your work history. After that we’ll look into degree programs and schools and--”
“Rach,” Puck interrupts, but can say no more so he ducks his head and takes in a deep, shuddering breath.
Rachel smiles at the emotions fluttering across Puck and walks up to him and places her hands on either side of his face and looks up at him with this smile that’s just so soft and warm and so full of belief in him that Puck can’t help the catch in his throat.
“I’m going to help you with this,” she tells him.
Puck can do nothing but nod and smile and wrap her in the tightest hug he’s ever given in his entire life and bury his face in her soft hair.