Good at Getting Nowhere Fast [2/3]
Title: Good at Getting Nowhere Fast [2/3]
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: PR Season Six: When he gets to his desk, coffee in hand, he actually finds it hard to focus on checking emails and whatever and not on Rachel and how much of a mistake he thinks it is that she's not just getting the fuck up off the mat and going back to doing what she's always wanted to do.
Word Count: 24,800 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
His mom's stuck for a sitter and she's had this trip with his aunt planned for like two months, so when she calls him and asks him if he can come spend the weekend with Hannah, he'd be a pretty shit son if he didn't say yes and get in his Jeep with a bag packed on the passenger seat next to him. She's not even going that far, but Hannah's too young to stay home by herself. Maybe for an hour after school or whatever, but not any longer than that. And now that he's not living in the same house as her, she doesn't annoy the fuck out of him, either. Part of that has to do with the fact that she's 10 now and knows about things like boundaries and personal space and minding her own damn business.
Plus, the time he spends with her now, they can actually hang out and do stuff, like order pizza and watch sports - she's really into football, and he thinks he has something to do with that - and she actually listens to him when he suggests it's bedtime or asks her to help tidy the kitchen.
So his mom's on her way to some spa weekend in Cinci with his aunt, and he couldn't get to Lima any earlier than 7:00, after work and traffic, so Hannah's staying with Carole Hummel until he can get to pick her up.
Which is weird, if only because it still hurts like a bitch to talk to Carole and think about Finn.
They're baking cookies when he gets there, which is pretty sweet, 'cause Carole's always made the best oatmeal cookies and he loves them.
"Why do you think I'm making them, Noah?" she asks in that like, perfect mom tone she's got.
She sends him home with like 15 cookies in a Tupperware and he can't promise he won't eat them all by tomorrow. Seriously, they're so good.
Hannah's in bed and he's sitting in the living room with a beer resting on his knee and a hockey game on when lights flicker through the room the way they always have when someone's pulling into the driveway. He pulls the curtain back to peek outside and sees that it's Rachel. And Sam.
He opens the door before they knock, 'cause he doesn't need a tired, pissy 10-year-old on his hands right now.
"I saw your car," Rachel says, then hugs him with her boyfriend standing right there next to her. Puck puts one arm around her, kind of casually, 'cause his beer's in that hand and the other one is pushing the door closed behind them.
"Babysitting," he mumbles, and Rachel looks at him like she sees through the grouch act and can tell he really doesn't mind. "What're you guys up to? Want a beer?"
Yeah, he directs that to Sam, who declines the offer.
"We just finished dinner. I was on my way to drop Sam off at home."
Puck's sure it's wrong in some way, but he wishes she'd dropped Sam off first, before stopping by here. He likes Sam, of course, but he just…Likes Rachel better. He likes spending time with her alone better.
"Are those…" Rachel's looking at the Tupperware he's got open on the sofa next to where he was sitting.
"Want one?"
Rachel answers, "Yes," before he's even finished asking. Puck's smiling and watching her as she takes a bite of the cookie. "Oh my god, they're so good."
"What are they?" Sam asks, and like, if dude tries to take one he might lose a fucking hand.
"Carole's oatmeal cookies. They're amazing," Rachel says, then breaks off a bite for Sam and hands it to him. Puck doesn't care if it's rude not to offer one to the guy. "Why do you get these and I don't?"
She's pouting. It's cute. And he almost says it's because he went to see Carole and she hasn't, but he doesn't wanna make her cry and that'd definitely do it. It'd be a shitty thing to say.
"Obviously she likes me better than you," he says, because at least she'll know he's teasing her.
Rachel finishes her cookie and Sam checks his watch. Puck's not sure what that guy's deal is, but then it dawns on him that Rachel was driving him home, which probably means she was gonna go inside, which means…
Yeah, all right, Puck'd be checking his watch, too.
He's not pissed or jealous or anything, he just…Likes hanging out with Rachel and kind of wishes she could stay a bit longer.
"These were Finn's favourite," she says a bit sadly, and shit, that'll put a damper on things.
Sam reaches out and puts his hand on her back, and she smiles at him like he's sweet for comforting her or something. But then she looks at Puck like maybe he's the only other person on the planet who understands the weight of thinking about Finn and these little things, the reminders that are everywhere in this town.
They stay and chat for a couple more minutes, but then Rachel says they should be heading out. Puck doesn't hug her again, but he really fucking wants to, which is just so messed up.
She texts him a half hour later to say that if he saves her a cookie she'll bring him an entire cake tomorrow, and shit, he knows a good deal when he hears one. Too bad he already finished off the cookies. Then she says something about how her dad was fast asleep on the sofa when she got home, but he had on the game Puck was watching. And maybe it's just a little anecdote, or maybe it's her way of telling him she didn't stay at Sam's. Or maybe Puck's just happy she didn't and reading too much into it.
He honestly couldn't tell you why the fuck he cares so much.
… … ...
The thing with Sam is he's genuinely a nice person, which can be misconstrued as flirting, depending on who he's talking to. Rachel's trying so, so hard to be less insecure in this relationship than she has in her other ones, but it's very difficult when she's trying on shoes in a boutique downtown and Sam is making conversation with the salesperson, who is shamelessly flirting with him.
She really doesn't have any grounds to be upset. He's being nice and she'd rather have that than a boyfriend who was rude to strangers, but it's still hard to see.
She's trying so hard not to be a brat about it, but when she actually needs help and the salesperson is too busy flirting with Rachel's boyfriend to actually give her decent service, well.
Rachel can only rein it in so much.
She leaves the shoes on the floor, puts her feet back into her boots and grabs her handbag.
Maybe she forgets to say anything to Sam as she passes and heads for the door. Whoops.
He's right behind her before she's even outside, so that's something at least. And no, she's not silly enough to think he'd actually try to flirt with someone right under her nose, it's just a bit insulting that he doesn't even consider how what he's doing might make her feel.
"Hey," he says, smoothly weaving their fingers together and holding the door open with his other hand. "You didn't like those? I thought they were nice."
It's really not the right thing to say, if only because it gives her a very easy in and a way to start a fight rather than a conversation.
"I don't know how you'd notice anything other than the girl you were chatting up."
She hates that she's said it as soon as it comes out of her mouth, but it is how she feels, so maybe it's not the worst she could have done.
"I wasn't…" He's laughing a bit, but she gives him a look and he stops, realizes how serious this is. "Rachel, I wasn't like, trying to…We were the only people in there. It would've been weird to just ignore her."
Okay, no.
"You had no problem just ignoring me," she suggests, and Sam stops there on the empty sidewalk and takes her other hand in his, too.
"You're really upset?" he asks softly, but that doesn't make her feel any better. Yes, it's nice that he's concerned, but she doesn't exactly consider it too difficult to piece together that his girlfriend might be mad when he flirts with someone else. "C'mon. You know I love you and I don't want anyone else."
They've been dating all of six weeks. Her first thought is that she's nowhere near being ready to say it back. Her second thought is that he seems to throw around his I love yous like they don't really mean much at all.
Rachel doesn't say anything, doesn't stop him when he puts his arms around her even though she feels like she's suffocating a bit until he pulls away and kisses her gently.
It really isn't that she doesn't want to spend the rest of the day with him as they'd planned, she's just terrified that he's expecting her to repeat his sentiment and she's nowhere near ready to do so. She likes him, quite a bit, and she's having fun with him, but part of the reason this relationship has been working so well for her is that it's been moving slowly and she hasn't felt any pressure at all. She's never exactly been the type of girl who takes this slow and just lets them unfold as they may, so she really enjoyed the fact that she could do that with him.
Now he's telling her he loves her in the middle of the street at 2:00 on a Saturday afternoon, and she does not find that nearly as romantic as she would have at 16.
She ends up at Noah's door, which is another thing she doesn't even want to think about right now.
(Why is he the one she's always seeking out when things get pear-shaped?)
She knocks on the door and only just realizes then that he might not even be home, and she drove all this way, and she feels absolutely stupid.
"Hey," he answers in a way that lets her know he looked through the peephole before unlocking and opening the door. "What are you doing here?"
He's not saying it to be rude, and the concern in his voice is actually quite reassuring. It's just nice to know he cares.
"I…" It's becoming infuriating that she stutters around him. "I just started driving."
Noah grins and pulls the door open wider (and she doesn't want to think it's attractive, but she certainly does), says, "You know, there are other roads out of Lima."
It's his way of telling her it's not a coincidence she ended up here. She isn't ready to acknowledge that.
"What's going on?" he asks as she takes off her coat. He takes it from her when she glances around for someplace to put it, then he drapes it over the back of a kitchen chair and reaches for her handbag, sets that on top of the table. "You look fucked up."
It shouldn't make her laugh, but it does. And really, maybe this is why she comes to him. He's blunt and honest, but she knows for a fact he's caring and genuine. It's a mix she doesn't get from anyone else, and no, Santana doesn't count. It's different with Noah, and Rachel can't put her finger on why or how, but she likes it. Sometimes she feels like she needs it. But that's something she rarely ever really wants to think about.
"Sam told me he loves me," she says with far more certainty than she's feeling.
Noah's mouth drops open and the look of pure confusion on his face is almost comical. "You've been dating for like an hour and a half. What the fuck?"
"I know," Rachel sighs, putting her hands through her hair. "I know. We were arguing and…"
"Ah," Noah says sagely, like that makes all the sense in the world, which it doesn't.
"Pardon me?"
He moves over to the sofa, where it looks like he'd been sitting before she came in. The television is on and at a low volume, and there's a glass of water sitting on a coaster on the table.
His apartment is nice, and tidy, and she's never been here before but it feels like she has. She can't explain that, either, and isn't going to bother trying. She has his address because he gave it to her with her contact information. At the time, she really couldn't figure out why he'd do that, but now she's considering maybe it was for this reason. Maybe he wanted her here.
These are not thoughts she should be having or conclusions she should be jumping to.
"Sam's like…" He pauses to consider his next words. "I mean, I'm not saying he doesn't love you or something, but I'm pretty sure he's also just fucking terrified of losing stuff." Rachel blinks. She's got no idea how he got there. "I'm just saying, I don't think he knows how to keep a girlfriend without trapping her with I love you."
Rachel doesn't necessarily disagree, but the way Noah says it certainly makes it sound much more creepy than it is.
Then he asks, "Did you say it back?" and she cries, "No!" so fast it makes him chuckle.
"I thought we were having fun," she tells him, and his brow goes up. "Stop. I don't mean your kind of fun. I mean I could definitely see it going somewhere, but slowly."
He looks afraid to say, "Could?" but he does it anyway.
"This sort of changes things, Noah."
His brow furrows like he's confused, which isn't nearly as annoying as it could be. "You're gonna break up, then?"
Rachel sighs and leans back against his sofa. It's really quite comfortable after being in the car an hour and being anxious for at least five.
"I don't really want to," she admits, and he just nods, shrugs his shoulders, and says, "So don't."
He makes it sound like it's just that easy, and because she wants to believe it, she decides to try. She has no idea how he does that, either, makes things simple. She's honestly spent most of the day feeling like yet another thing is about to crash down around her feet. And she's just so tired of feeling like she has no control over the things that happen to her. She's constantly playing some kind of waiting game, and she's exhausted from it. Sam saying what he did just made her feel like her reaction - or lack of - would be a ticking time bomb until Sam realized they weren't on the same page. Maybe she just needed Noah to point out that her control over the situation is just not letting it spiral out of control. Sam didn't seem bothered that she didn't say the words back to him, and if he's not going to break up with her over it, there's really no reason for her to break up with him. As long as she continues to be happy with the speed of things in general. She really can't see him trying to push things further, and god, maybe he didn't even realize what he'd said when he said it.
They talk for a bit about other things. He tells her more about what he does at work, and he asks about how things are with her dads. It's nice that he's interested, but Rachel doesn't particularly feel like rehashing the latest in the saga, not when she's already a bit upset, so she tells him things are going well and he accepts that. She isn't quite sure when he started being able to read her as well as he does, but as they're sitting here together with the television on and she starts thinking back in her head, she has to stop herself when she realizes it's really been quite a while.
It's getting late and she should drive home before she gets tired. Noah offers that she can stay and have his bed for the night, which is very sweet of him, really, but she declines and promises she'll text him to let him know when she's home safely.
And when she calls it's not because she thinks it's any better than keying out a message to him, it's just because she's been thinking the entire drive home and can't stop her mind racing.
"He gave Quinn a ring," she says quietly.
Noah sounds half asleep or at least ready to go to bed when he says, "Yeah, I know," and doesn't sound entirely thrilled about it either.
Rachel knows she's not in any position to really talk about these things, having once been engaged herself, but…
What Noah said is making a lot more sense now.
"I don't think he really loves me," she says, and it shouldn't hurt, but it does, a little bit.
"I think he probably wants to."
There's something sweet about that, too. "Maybe."
"It's not exactly a stretch, Rachel," Noah says, and he's laughing softly like he thinks she's foolish for thinking anyone wouldn't.
… … …
When Quinn changes her mind at the last minute and decides she's not coming to Santana and Brittany's wedding, Puck is so fucking pissed he makes a fist and considers using it on something. Not a person, but fuck. Seriously? He's like, irate on his friends' behalves, because this is just shitty. After all those three girls have been through, Quinn won't even spare some time out of her life to come see them on this pretty fucking big deal of a day?
Not to mention, he hasn't seen her in months and they've been talking about it and now she's got the perfect excuse and she won't use it. So yeah, he feels like shit about it. It's not all that fun to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't even want to fucking see you.
There's a pretty good chance that starting their conversation with, "You're such a bitch," isn't exactly the best thing he could do, but, well, ask him if he cares.
"What?" she asks coldly.
Oh no. She does not get to act like this is an attack on her.
"You're seriously not coming," he states, and she sighs into the phone. He's literally just finished packing a bag and hung his suit in his garment bag to get on the road in like an hour to go home. And he's just so fucking done. "I'm not doing this anymore."
Yeah, he's fucking confident about it. He's seeing things pretty damn clearly.
"What?" she asks again, but this time she sounds surprised, which really just pisses him off even more.
"This is bullshit, Quinn. If you wanna have a boyfriend and no actual commitment, find someone else."
"You're being ridiculous. I literally have a paper due on Tuesday and I…"
She makes everything about her own shit and he's tired of hearing it. It's also just so lame and so transparent. It's predictable at this point, and maybe he didn't go to college, but he's pretty sure they give you advance notice when shit's due, so this excuse isn't gonna fly with him.
"And how long's this wedding been planned? You could've finished early. Not to mention, you could have planned a fucking visit any other time." She's quiet, so he knows he's got her there. "You don't want to come back here. Fine. Whatever. But it makes everyone around you feel like shit, 'cause they'd do anything for you and you won't even come to their wedding."
Maybe he just mixed up a few issues in that sentence, but he knows he's right on all of them, so he doesn't really care.
"So you're breaking up with me over Santana and Brittany?" she asks, sounding every bit the ice queen everyone's always known she is, even when she was trying to fool them all.
"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Quinn. You wanna get out of this without feeling any sort of guilt over the way you treat people, that's how you can look at it. Play the victim and say I dumped you." She's quiet. He's glad. If she starts arguing he's just gonna say more shit and it'll get mean. "Just stop expecting these people to be there for you when you won't even bat a fucking eyelash for them."
He hangs up, and he's not mad anymore, he's just relieved.
He listens to the angriest shit he can find on the drive back to Lima, and it's fucked up, but he finds himself parked in front of Rachel's condo complex, his bag still sitting on the passenger seat because he came here first, even before going home. It's the night before the wedding, so she might not even be home. Hell, she might not be alone. She might be out with Sam. She might be doing anything other than sitting at home by herself on a Friday night.
So yeah, he's a bit surprised when she buzzes him up and then opens the door wearing jeans and a black tee shirt and a confused look on her face.
"Hi," she says, but it almost sounds like a question.
"I broke up with Quinn."
She doesn't even seem surprised. "Oh."
"It wasn't working. I hasn't been working. I'm fucking mad at her."
"Okay," she says with a bit of concern, and it's then he realizes that he's been a bit loud and hostile. She puts her hand on his arm and leads him into the apartment, closes the door behind them. It's quiet, safe for some music playing from her bedroom filtering out into the open space. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," he answers easily, shrugging off his coat. She invited him in, so he can stay for a bit, right?
Rachel nods and bites her lip a bit. "Do you want a glass of wine?"
She asks it like she's afraid of his answer, which is kind of ridiculous.
"Red or white?"
She laughs and tilts her head. "Does it matter?"
He grins at her and says, "No, not really," and follows her towards the kitchen. "This place is nice."
"Thank you," she says as she pulls a half empty bottle of white from the fridge. She's struggling to reach for glasses off the top shelf of the cupboard that's full of stemware, so he goes over to help her. She accidentally brushes her hand against his thigh. He's not even trying to think anything of that. "Dad and I are comfortable here."
"Now."
"Yes, now," she sort of laughs. She hands him a glass and he takes a sip. "Is it okay?"
He shrugs. He knows fuck all about wine. This just tastes like apple juice with alcohol in it to him, so he's cool with it. "Sure." Rachel laughs again. She's fucking cute when she does that. "How's Sam? Where's Sam?"
"Out with the guys. I guess Mike made some joke about how they got weaselled out of a bachelor party because this is a lesbian wedding. Little do they know, Santana's planning on crashing their beer and video game party at Sam's apartment."
"Guess my invite got lost in the mail."
"I'm sure they'd love to have you there," she says, her arm across her stomach as the other one holds her glass. "I can text Sam and let him know you're coming."
"Nah. Not really feeling like being around people," he tells her, and it's the truth.
Rachel's eyebrow goes up. "I'm not people?"
Shit. No, she's not.
"People who aren't you," he says, and if she thinks he doesn't notice that she's blushing just cause she looks down at the floor, she's wrong. "Everyone else is so fucking disappointing."
"Not everyone," she suggests gently. She's looking at him again, pushes her hair over her shoulder so it's not in her way. It's hot, the way she does that, and he's always thought so. "Just Quinn."
He can't tell if she's agreeing with him, or just saying he's disappointed in Quinn and not everyone else. Either way, it's nice that she recognizes it.
He's gonna blame whatever emotions he's got running through him - and there are definitely a few, if he's gonna acknowledge them - on how fucking attracted he is to Rachel right now. Fuck, right now isn't even accurate, 'cause it's been a while (years) that he's felt this way, he's just never acted on it, for about a hundred reasons. Finn. Quinn. Puck's own sense that he wasn't good enough for her. Now Sam, and the fact that Puck's only been single about two hours.
He's not gonna make a move because it'd be fucking inappropriate. He's just thinking about sex and being single and how he can have it if he wants to without the guilt of knowing he's got a girlfriend. Fuck, it's been so long.
"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" she asks as if he might say no. He wonders if she's ever gonna outgrow this feeling she has that people don't wanna be around her.
"Can I pick?" he asks hopefully.
Rachel actually laughs and starts walking toward her bedroom. He follows her. "You can, but that doesn't mean I have movies you'll like anyway."
Whatever. She's got Captain America on blu-ray and that shit is awesome. She says something about how much she likes Chris Evans, and how the Marvel cinematic universe is actually wonderful, despite the fact that they refuse to honour Black Widow with her own movie, and Puck doesn't even say anything about how he'd watch the fuck out of two hours of Scarlett Johansson in that black outfit. Or anything. She's hot, okay?
They finish off that bottle of wine, but he's not feeling it at all. Rachel's cheeks are a bit more pink than usual, but otherwise she seems perfectly fine, too. She's got a soft purple blanket over her legs, then tucks her arms underneath it when she's finished with her glass and has set it down.
A few minutes later, she lifts some of the blanket and covers him over with it, and their arms are touching but he's too fucking old to think that's any sort of sign or flirtation. And when her boyfriend texts her - he sees the name on the screen, but doesn't read any more than that - she replies and Puck isn't bothered.
Until she sighs like she's annoyed, then Puck looks over and asks what's wrong.
"He wants to come over." Oh. Well, yeah. Her dad's away and she's got the place to herself. "I don't have a lot of interest when he's drunk, frankly."
Puck's pretty sure she's implying she knows first hand that Sam's useless when he's been drinking, but he's not gonna ask for any more information there.
Plus… "You tell him I'm here?"
"No," she admits quietly. And he's not saying that means she prefers his company to her boyfriend's, because even he's not that much of an ass. But still.
They fall asleep together in their clothes on her bed and it's like, 2:00 in the morning when he wakes up and realizes his mom's gotta be freaking the fuck out. He told her he was stopping by to see a friend, but didn't say he wouldn't be home. Plus, he doesn't want Rachel feeling any kind of guilt over this or whatever, which she might if they way up together in the morning.
So he kisses her forehead and pulls the blanket up over her shoulders, puts the wine glasses in the sink in the kitchen and makes sure the door's locked when he lets himself out. He texts her to tell her what time he left and says he'll see her at the wedding.
He's trying really damn hard to ignore how much he didn't want to leave at all.
… … …
Rachel's dancing with Sam and having as much fun as she can when she's this annoyed by Noah's display with Blaine's mother.
It's absolutely foolish of her to care, but she does.
He's her friend, and there's no way he or anyone else can deny that at this point. She supports him and he supports her, and she is one hundred per cent certain that if she ever needed anything, he'd do his best to provide it. Of course, she's not ever going to say that to him, because he'll talk about sex and having it with her, and to be perfectly honest, she doesn't need to start doing that, too. More than she does. Not that she does it a lot, by any means, and it's never anything more than a passing curiosity, but still. Their friendship so far is devoid of any real sexual innuendo, and she'd like it to stay that way.
In short, it really should not affect her at all that he's spinning Blaine's intoxicated mother around on the dance floor and holding her up when she can't do it for herself.
Maybe he's heartbroken, or as close to it as he can be considering, Rachel thinks, he's had one foot out the door of his relationship for a while now. She's not being rude, either, she just knows he hasn't been happy and whether he wants to admit it or not, he was probably waiting for Quinn to pull the plug on the whole thing before he did it.
Sam kisses her, presses his tongue into her mouth in a way that isn't inappropriate, and says something in her ear about how he can't wait to get home. It's basically all he can muster as far as dirty talk goes, and that's fine, too. She kisses his cheek and squeezes his hand, laughs when he attempts to dip her.
She's checking on the status of the limo that's coming to pick up the newlyweds, so she's outside by the main door of the barn on her phone when Noah walks by.
Yes, walks by.
"Hey," she calls out, more loudly than she wants to and definitely less eloquently.
"What?"
He seems mad, but she can't for the life of her figure out why he would be. He's looked as though he's having a blast, she thinks bitterly, and there's no reason why he should be this gruff with her.
(She's the one he left alone in bed last night, and she feels horrible for caring as much as she does about that. It's just not what she was expecting, waking up alone.)
"Are you okay?" she asks. Because that's really all she wants to know.
Noah leans against the wall next to her, close enough that if anyone were to see them they might wonder what's going on. "Do I not look okay?"
"You look amazing," she says without thinking, then sees the slow grin spread across his lips. He planned that. "You look like you're having fun."
"I am." She just stares at him. "How do you want me to act?"
He's really going to make her spell it out for him. "You just ended a long term relationship. I thought you might take more time to process before picking up someone's mother."
He gives her a look like that was a horrible thing to say, and he might be right, really. "This is how I process, Berry."
It's been so long since he called her that. It sounds strange coming from his mouth.
"She's Blaine's mother," she repeats.
Noah's hand settles on her waist and Rachel's heart beats harder. What is he doing? "Jealous?" he asks lowly, and no, that's not what this is.
"Hardly. Concerned, more like."
"Mhm," he says, then looks at her mouth. "You look real concerned right now."
God, she can't even argue that and say she's not turned on. It's awful and she feels like a horrible person, horrible girlfriend. Sam is just inside those doors, waiting for her, and she's out here and Noah is making her feel like she's ready to crawl out of her skin.
"What are you doing?" she asks, and she means right now with her, and in general tonight, with everyone else. She sets her hand on his chest, to push him away if she needs to, and as a show of comfort over the fact that he's really just not fooling her at all. "You don't have anything to prove here."
He takes a deep breath, pushes his fingers gently through his hair to get it off his forehead and back into place, and says, "Yeah, thanks," like he really doesn't care at all about what she's said.
Rachel has to stay until the very end of the reception, even though she's exhausted by 11:30 and just wants to be at home in bed with her boyfriend. She's put at ease a little bit when she sees Blaine putting his mother into a cab alone and Noah dancing with Santana and Brittany like he really doesn't care that what looked like his best shot at having sex tonight just left. He might not even notice.
He does notice - she watches him notice - the way she's sitting on Sam's lap at the head table and drinking a glass of sparkling cider. The look Noah is giving her is confusing, at best, so she stops paying attention and asks Sam if he'd like to go out for brunch tomorrow morning before the gift opening at Santana's house.
… … …
It's fucking annoying that he feels like he should apologize to Rachel, because he's about 98 per cent sure he didn't do anything wrong and she's got nothing to be pissed about. Yeah, he may have shown a little more of his hand than he would have liked, but he doesn't even think she picked up on it, so whatever. There's really no reason for him not to go out - to a wedding or anywhere else - and have a bit of fun and flirt with whoever he wants to.
Okay, maybe Blaine's mom wasn't the best choice, but fuck it. She sought him out.
So when Rachel shows up at his mom's house at like 3:00 with a coffee for him and a tea for her, he's totally surprised and really not sure what the hell she came here for. He thinks that if she were gonna be shitty about last night she wouldn't bring him coffee. But it's Rachel, so you can't be too certain.
"You didn't come to the gift opening." Pretty obvious, so he just stands there looking at her. "You should have. It was nice."
"Sounded boring," he says, shrugging one shoulder. He'd bet good money that it was a waste of time. He's watched Santana open presents before and it's really not that great. "What's up?"
Rachel takes a deep breath like she does when she's preparing to do or say something she doesn't really want to. He's seen enough of her forced interactions over the years to pick up on that.
"It occurred to me that I wasn't very nice to you last night."
He waits. There's nothing more coming out of her mouth. He's a bit confused.
"Is that like an apology?" he asks, 'cause he's really not sure.
Rachel is looking at him like she wasn't expecting any pushback from this, which is pretty shitty, if you ask him.
"Of sorts," she says.
"Does that mean you're sorry? Or that you're not sorry but you don't want me to be pissed, so you're at least saying something that sounds like…"
"I'm sorry," she blurts, and he figures she means it. She's a hell of an actress, but a bad liar, and he doesn't even understand how that's possible. "I was…It's not my business who you spend time with. I was just worried about you, and it came out in the worst possible way."
"Why are you worried about me?" he asks, heading back to the sofa. His mom's working a day shift and Hannah's off at a friend's place; he drove her there after lunch. Rachel sits down next to him and turns herself towards him.
She looks good, too. He's pretty sure she's not wearing any makeup at all, but it's hard to tell 'cause she's so fucking pretty. Her hair's pulled up and she's just wearing black jeans and a burgundy sweater, and he's fucking positive she thinks she looks like crap, but that's just so wrong.
"You've just come out of a relationship and I…" She shrugs both shoulders slowly as she looks at him. "I just want you to be happy."
"Sex makes me happy," he tells her, and it's the truth, and he didn't even say it just to make her blush, but because he's trying to get his point across. He's not self destructing, he was dancing with a woman. And yeah, if that had turned into something and meant he got off last night, then fuck yeah. It didn't, and that's fine, too. He's just not really into her acting like he needs a fucking intervention. "I just mean it's not like I was drunk off my face and making an ass of myself."
Rachel tilts her head and has a mean little smile on. "I think Blaine's mother was doing enough of that for the both of you."
He doesn't want to laugh, but it's fucking funny. It sends Rachel laughing, too, and yeah, he likes making her do that. She doesn't do it enough. They always talk about serious shit and he'd like to see this more.
"You don't have to worry about me," he says after they've calmed down again.
"I'm sure that's true, but I'm going to do it anyway."
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: PR Season Six: When he gets to his desk, coffee in hand, he actually finds it hard to focus on checking emails and whatever and not on Rachel and how much of a mistake he thinks it is that she's not just getting the fuck up off the mat and going back to doing what she's always wanted to do.
Word Count: 24,800 (total)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
His mom's stuck for a sitter and she's had this trip with his aunt planned for like two months, so when she calls him and asks him if he can come spend the weekend with Hannah, he'd be a pretty shit son if he didn't say yes and get in his Jeep with a bag packed on the passenger seat next to him. She's not even going that far, but Hannah's too young to stay home by herself. Maybe for an hour after school or whatever, but not any longer than that. And now that he's not living in the same house as her, she doesn't annoy the fuck out of him, either. Part of that has to do with the fact that she's 10 now and knows about things like boundaries and personal space and minding her own damn business.
Plus, the time he spends with her now, they can actually hang out and do stuff, like order pizza and watch sports - she's really into football, and he thinks he has something to do with that - and she actually listens to him when he suggests it's bedtime or asks her to help tidy the kitchen.
So his mom's on her way to some spa weekend in Cinci with his aunt, and he couldn't get to Lima any earlier than 7:00, after work and traffic, so Hannah's staying with Carole Hummel until he can get to pick her up.
Which is weird, if only because it still hurts like a bitch to talk to Carole and think about Finn.
They're baking cookies when he gets there, which is pretty sweet, 'cause Carole's always made the best oatmeal cookies and he loves them.
"Why do you think I'm making them, Noah?" she asks in that like, perfect mom tone she's got.
She sends him home with like 15 cookies in a Tupperware and he can't promise he won't eat them all by tomorrow. Seriously, they're so good.
Hannah's in bed and he's sitting in the living room with a beer resting on his knee and a hockey game on when lights flicker through the room the way they always have when someone's pulling into the driveway. He pulls the curtain back to peek outside and sees that it's Rachel. And Sam.
He opens the door before they knock, 'cause he doesn't need a tired, pissy 10-year-old on his hands right now.
"I saw your car," Rachel says, then hugs him with her boyfriend standing right there next to her. Puck puts one arm around her, kind of casually, 'cause his beer's in that hand and the other one is pushing the door closed behind them.
"Babysitting," he mumbles, and Rachel looks at him like she sees through the grouch act and can tell he really doesn't mind. "What're you guys up to? Want a beer?"
Yeah, he directs that to Sam, who declines the offer.
"We just finished dinner. I was on my way to drop Sam off at home."
Puck's sure it's wrong in some way, but he wishes she'd dropped Sam off first, before stopping by here. He likes Sam, of course, but he just…Likes Rachel better. He likes spending time with her alone better.
"Are those…" Rachel's looking at the Tupperware he's got open on the sofa next to where he was sitting.
"Want one?"
Rachel answers, "Yes," before he's even finished asking. Puck's smiling and watching her as she takes a bite of the cookie. "Oh my god, they're so good."
"What are they?" Sam asks, and like, if dude tries to take one he might lose a fucking hand.
"Carole's oatmeal cookies. They're amazing," Rachel says, then breaks off a bite for Sam and hands it to him. Puck doesn't care if it's rude not to offer one to the guy. "Why do you get these and I don't?"
She's pouting. It's cute. And he almost says it's because he went to see Carole and she hasn't, but he doesn't wanna make her cry and that'd definitely do it. It'd be a shitty thing to say.
"Obviously she likes me better than you," he says, because at least she'll know he's teasing her.
Rachel finishes her cookie and Sam checks his watch. Puck's not sure what that guy's deal is, but then it dawns on him that Rachel was driving him home, which probably means she was gonna go inside, which means…
Yeah, all right, Puck'd be checking his watch, too.
He's not pissed or jealous or anything, he just…Likes hanging out with Rachel and kind of wishes she could stay a bit longer.
"These were Finn's favourite," she says a bit sadly, and shit, that'll put a damper on things.
Sam reaches out and puts his hand on her back, and she smiles at him like he's sweet for comforting her or something. But then she looks at Puck like maybe he's the only other person on the planet who understands the weight of thinking about Finn and these little things, the reminders that are everywhere in this town.
They stay and chat for a couple more minutes, but then Rachel says they should be heading out. Puck doesn't hug her again, but he really fucking wants to, which is just so messed up.
She texts him a half hour later to say that if he saves her a cookie she'll bring him an entire cake tomorrow, and shit, he knows a good deal when he hears one. Too bad he already finished off the cookies. Then she says something about how her dad was fast asleep on the sofa when she got home, but he had on the game Puck was watching. And maybe it's just a little anecdote, or maybe it's her way of telling him she didn't stay at Sam's. Or maybe Puck's just happy she didn't and reading too much into it.
He honestly couldn't tell you why the fuck he cares so much.
… … ...
The thing with Sam is he's genuinely a nice person, which can be misconstrued as flirting, depending on who he's talking to. Rachel's trying so, so hard to be less insecure in this relationship than she has in her other ones, but it's very difficult when she's trying on shoes in a boutique downtown and Sam is making conversation with the salesperson, who is shamelessly flirting with him.
She really doesn't have any grounds to be upset. He's being nice and she'd rather have that than a boyfriend who was rude to strangers, but it's still hard to see.
She's trying so hard not to be a brat about it, but when she actually needs help and the salesperson is too busy flirting with Rachel's boyfriend to actually give her decent service, well.
Rachel can only rein it in so much.
She leaves the shoes on the floor, puts her feet back into her boots and grabs her handbag.
Maybe she forgets to say anything to Sam as she passes and heads for the door. Whoops.
He's right behind her before she's even outside, so that's something at least. And no, she's not silly enough to think he'd actually try to flirt with someone right under her nose, it's just a bit insulting that he doesn't even consider how what he's doing might make her feel.
"Hey," he says, smoothly weaving their fingers together and holding the door open with his other hand. "You didn't like those? I thought they were nice."
It's really not the right thing to say, if only because it gives her a very easy in and a way to start a fight rather than a conversation.
"I don't know how you'd notice anything other than the girl you were chatting up."
She hates that she's said it as soon as it comes out of her mouth, but it is how she feels, so maybe it's not the worst she could have done.
"I wasn't…" He's laughing a bit, but she gives him a look and he stops, realizes how serious this is. "Rachel, I wasn't like, trying to…We were the only people in there. It would've been weird to just ignore her."
Okay, no.
"You had no problem just ignoring me," she suggests, and Sam stops there on the empty sidewalk and takes her other hand in his, too.
"You're really upset?" he asks softly, but that doesn't make her feel any better. Yes, it's nice that he's concerned, but she doesn't exactly consider it too difficult to piece together that his girlfriend might be mad when he flirts with someone else. "C'mon. You know I love you and I don't want anyone else."
They've been dating all of six weeks. Her first thought is that she's nowhere near being ready to say it back. Her second thought is that he seems to throw around his I love yous like they don't really mean much at all.
Rachel doesn't say anything, doesn't stop him when he puts his arms around her even though she feels like she's suffocating a bit until he pulls away and kisses her gently.
It really isn't that she doesn't want to spend the rest of the day with him as they'd planned, she's just terrified that he's expecting her to repeat his sentiment and she's nowhere near ready to do so. She likes him, quite a bit, and she's having fun with him, but part of the reason this relationship has been working so well for her is that it's been moving slowly and she hasn't felt any pressure at all. She's never exactly been the type of girl who takes this slow and just lets them unfold as they may, so she really enjoyed the fact that she could do that with him.
Now he's telling her he loves her in the middle of the street at 2:00 on a Saturday afternoon, and she does not find that nearly as romantic as she would have at 16.
She ends up at Noah's door, which is another thing she doesn't even want to think about right now.
(Why is he the one she's always seeking out when things get pear-shaped?)
She knocks on the door and only just realizes then that he might not even be home, and she drove all this way, and she feels absolutely stupid.
"Hey," he answers in a way that lets her know he looked through the peephole before unlocking and opening the door. "What are you doing here?"
He's not saying it to be rude, and the concern in his voice is actually quite reassuring. It's just nice to know he cares.
"I…" It's becoming infuriating that she stutters around him. "I just started driving."
Noah grins and pulls the door open wider (and she doesn't want to think it's attractive, but she certainly does), says, "You know, there are other roads out of Lima."
It's his way of telling her it's not a coincidence she ended up here. She isn't ready to acknowledge that.
"What's going on?" he asks as she takes off her coat. He takes it from her when she glances around for someplace to put it, then he drapes it over the back of a kitchen chair and reaches for her handbag, sets that on top of the table. "You look fucked up."
It shouldn't make her laugh, but it does. And really, maybe this is why she comes to him. He's blunt and honest, but she knows for a fact he's caring and genuine. It's a mix she doesn't get from anyone else, and no, Santana doesn't count. It's different with Noah, and Rachel can't put her finger on why or how, but she likes it. Sometimes she feels like she needs it. But that's something she rarely ever really wants to think about.
"Sam told me he loves me," she says with far more certainty than she's feeling.
Noah's mouth drops open and the look of pure confusion on his face is almost comical. "You've been dating for like an hour and a half. What the fuck?"
"I know," Rachel sighs, putting her hands through her hair. "I know. We were arguing and…"
"Ah," Noah says sagely, like that makes all the sense in the world, which it doesn't.
"Pardon me?"
He moves over to the sofa, where it looks like he'd been sitting before she came in. The television is on and at a low volume, and there's a glass of water sitting on a coaster on the table.
His apartment is nice, and tidy, and she's never been here before but it feels like she has. She can't explain that, either, and isn't going to bother trying. She has his address because he gave it to her with her contact information. At the time, she really couldn't figure out why he'd do that, but now she's considering maybe it was for this reason. Maybe he wanted her here.
These are not thoughts she should be having or conclusions she should be jumping to.
"Sam's like…" He pauses to consider his next words. "I mean, I'm not saying he doesn't love you or something, but I'm pretty sure he's also just fucking terrified of losing stuff." Rachel blinks. She's got no idea how he got there. "I'm just saying, I don't think he knows how to keep a girlfriend without trapping her with I love you."
Rachel doesn't necessarily disagree, but the way Noah says it certainly makes it sound much more creepy than it is.
Then he asks, "Did you say it back?" and she cries, "No!" so fast it makes him chuckle.
"I thought we were having fun," she tells him, and his brow goes up. "Stop. I don't mean your kind of fun. I mean I could definitely see it going somewhere, but slowly."
He looks afraid to say, "Could?" but he does it anyway.
"This sort of changes things, Noah."
His brow furrows like he's confused, which isn't nearly as annoying as it could be. "You're gonna break up, then?"
Rachel sighs and leans back against his sofa. It's really quite comfortable after being in the car an hour and being anxious for at least five.
"I don't really want to," she admits, and he just nods, shrugs his shoulders, and says, "So don't."
He makes it sound like it's just that easy, and because she wants to believe it, she decides to try. She has no idea how he does that, either, makes things simple. She's honestly spent most of the day feeling like yet another thing is about to crash down around her feet. And she's just so tired of feeling like she has no control over the things that happen to her. She's constantly playing some kind of waiting game, and she's exhausted from it. Sam saying what he did just made her feel like her reaction - or lack of - would be a ticking time bomb until Sam realized they weren't on the same page. Maybe she just needed Noah to point out that her control over the situation is just not letting it spiral out of control. Sam didn't seem bothered that she didn't say the words back to him, and if he's not going to break up with her over it, there's really no reason for her to break up with him. As long as she continues to be happy with the speed of things in general. She really can't see him trying to push things further, and god, maybe he didn't even realize what he'd said when he said it.
They talk for a bit about other things. He tells her more about what he does at work, and he asks about how things are with her dads. It's nice that he's interested, but Rachel doesn't particularly feel like rehashing the latest in the saga, not when she's already a bit upset, so she tells him things are going well and he accepts that. She isn't quite sure when he started being able to read her as well as he does, but as they're sitting here together with the television on and she starts thinking back in her head, she has to stop herself when she realizes it's really been quite a while.
It's getting late and she should drive home before she gets tired. Noah offers that she can stay and have his bed for the night, which is very sweet of him, really, but she declines and promises she'll text him to let him know when she's home safely.
And when she calls it's not because she thinks it's any better than keying out a message to him, it's just because she's been thinking the entire drive home and can't stop her mind racing.
"He gave Quinn a ring," she says quietly.
Noah sounds half asleep or at least ready to go to bed when he says, "Yeah, I know," and doesn't sound entirely thrilled about it either.
Rachel knows she's not in any position to really talk about these things, having once been engaged herself, but…
What Noah said is making a lot more sense now.
"I don't think he really loves me," she says, and it shouldn't hurt, but it does, a little bit.
"I think he probably wants to."
There's something sweet about that, too. "Maybe."
"It's not exactly a stretch, Rachel," Noah says, and he's laughing softly like he thinks she's foolish for thinking anyone wouldn't.
… … …
When Quinn changes her mind at the last minute and decides she's not coming to Santana and Brittany's wedding, Puck is so fucking pissed he makes a fist and considers using it on something. Not a person, but fuck. Seriously? He's like, irate on his friends' behalves, because this is just shitty. After all those three girls have been through, Quinn won't even spare some time out of her life to come see them on this pretty fucking big deal of a day?
Not to mention, he hasn't seen her in months and they've been talking about it and now she's got the perfect excuse and she won't use it. So yeah, he feels like shit about it. It's not all that fun to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't even want to fucking see you.
There's a pretty good chance that starting their conversation with, "You're such a bitch," isn't exactly the best thing he could do, but, well, ask him if he cares.
"What?" she asks coldly.
Oh no. She does not get to act like this is an attack on her.
"You're seriously not coming," he states, and she sighs into the phone. He's literally just finished packing a bag and hung his suit in his garment bag to get on the road in like an hour to go home. And he's just so fucking done. "I'm not doing this anymore."
Yeah, he's fucking confident about it. He's seeing things pretty damn clearly.
"What?" she asks again, but this time she sounds surprised, which really just pisses him off even more.
"This is bullshit, Quinn. If you wanna have a boyfriend and no actual commitment, find someone else."
"You're being ridiculous. I literally have a paper due on Tuesday and I…"
She makes everything about her own shit and he's tired of hearing it. It's also just so lame and so transparent. It's predictable at this point, and maybe he didn't go to college, but he's pretty sure they give you advance notice when shit's due, so this excuse isn't gonna fly with him.
"And how long's this wedding been planned? You could've finished early. Not to mention, you could have planned a fucking visit any other time." She's quiet, so he knows he's got her there. "You don't want to come back here. Fine. Whatever. But it makes everyone around you feel like shit, 'cause they'd do anything for you and you won't even come to their wedding."
Maybe he just mixed up a few issues in that sentence, but he knows he's right on all of them, so he doesn't really care.
"So you're breaking up with me over Santana and Brittany?" she asks, sounding every bit the ice queen everyone's always known she is, even when she was trying to fool them all.
"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Quinn. You wanna get out of this without feeling any sort of guilt over the way you treat people, that's how you can look at it. Play the victim and say I dumped you." She's quiet. He's glad. If she starts arguing he's just gonna say more shit and it'll get mean. "Just stop expecting these people to be there for you when you won't even bat a fucking eyelash for them."
He hangs up, and he's not mad anymore, he's just relieved.
He listens to the angriest shit he can find on the drive back to Lima, and it's fucked up, but he finds himself parked in front of Rachel's condo complex, his bag still sitting on the passenger seat because he came here first, even before going home. It's the night before the wedding, so she might not even be home. Hell, she might not be alone. She might be out with Sam. She might be doing anything other than sitting at home by herself on a Friday night.
So yeah, he's a bit surprised when she buzzes him up and then opens the door wearing jeans and a black tee shirt and a confused look on her face.
"Hi," she says, but it almost sounds like a question.
"I broke up with Quinn."
She doesn't even seem surprised. "Oh."
"It wasn't working. I hasn't been working. I'm fucking mad at her."
"Okay," she says with a bit of concern, and it's then he realizes that he's been a bit loud and hostile. She puts her hand on his arm and leads him into the apartment, closes the door behind them. It's quiet, safe for some music playing from her bedroom filtering out into the open space. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," he answers easily, shrugging off his coat. She invited him in, so he can stay for a bit, right?
Rachel nods and bites her lip a bit. "Do you want a glass of wine?"
She asks it like she's afraid of his answer, which is kind of ridiculous.
"Red or white?"
She laughs and tilts her head. "Does it matter?"
He grins at her and says, "No, not really," and follows her towards the kitchen. "This place is nice."
"Thank you," she says as she pulls a half empty bottle of white from the fridge. She's struggling to reach for glasses off the top shelf of the cupboard that's full of stemware, so he goes over to help her. She accidentally brushes her hand against his thigh. He's not even trying to think anything of that. "Dad and I are comfortable here."
"Now."
"Yes, now," she sort of laughs. She hands him a glass and he takes a sip. "Is it okay?"
He shrugs. He knows fuck all about wine. This just tastes like apple juice with alcohol in it to him, so he's cool with it. "Sure." Rachel laughs again. She's fucking cute when she does that. "How's Sam? Where's Sam?"
"Out with the guys. I guess Mike made some joke about how they got weaselled out of a bachelor party because this is a lesbian wedding. Little do they know, Santana's planning on crashing their beer and video game party at Sam's apartment."
"Guess my invite got lost in the mail."
"I'm sure they'd love to have you there," she says, her arm across her stomach as the other one holds her glass. "I can text Sam and let him know you're coming."
"Nah. Not really feeling like being around people," he tells her, and it's the truth.
Rachel's eyebrow goes up. "I'm not people?"
Shit. No, she's not.
"People who aren't you," he says, and if she thinks he doesn't notice that she's blushing just cause she looks down at the floor, she's wrong. "Everyone else is so fucking disappointing."
"Not everyone," she suggests gently. She's looking at him again, pushes her hair over her shoulder so it's not in her way. It's hot, the way she does that, and he's always thought so. "Just Quinn."
He can't tell if she's agreeing with him, or just saying he's disappointed in Quinn and not everyone else. Either way, it's nice that she recognizes it.
He's gonna blame whatever emotions he's got running through him - and there are definitely a few, if he's gonna acknowledge them - on how fucking attracted he is to Rachel right now. Fuck, right now isn't even accurate, 'cause it's been a while (years) that he's felt this way, he's just never acted on it, for about a hundred reasons. Finn. Quinn. Puck's own sense that he wasn't good enough for her. Now Sam, and the fact that Puck's only been single about two hours.
He's not gonna make a move because it'd be fucking inappropriate. He's just thinking about sex and being single and how he can have it if he wants to without the guilt of knowing he's got a girlfriend. Fuck, it's been so long.
"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" she asks as if he might say no. He wonders if she's ever gonna outgrow this feeling she has that people don't wanna be around her.
"Can I pick?" he asks hopefully.
Rachel actually laughs and starts walking toward her bedroom. He follows her. "You can, but that doesn't mean I have movies you'll like anyway."
Whatever. She's got Captain America on blu-ray and that shit is awesome. She says something about how much she likes Chris Evans, and how the Marvel cinematic universe is actually wonderful, despite the fact that they refuse to honour Black Widow with her own movie, and Puck doesn't even say anything about how he'd watch the fuck out of two hours of Scarlett Johansson in that black outfit. Or anything. She's hot, okay?
They finish off that bottle of wine, but he's not feeling it at all. Rachel's cheeks are a bit more pink than usual, but otherwise she seems perfectly fine, too. She's got a soft purple blanket over her legs, then tucks her arms underneath it when she's finished with her glass and has set it down.
A few minutes later, she lifts some of the blanket and covers him over with it, and their arms are touching but he's too fucking old to think that's any sort of sign or flirtation. And when her boyfriend texts her - he sees the name on the screen, but doesn't read any more than that - she replies and Puck isn't bothered.
Until she sighs like she's annoyed, then Puck looks over and asks what's wrong.
"He wants to come over." Oh. Well, yeah. Her dad's away and she's got the place to herself. "I don't have a lot of interest when he's drunk, frankly."
Puck's pretty sure she's implying she knows first hand that Sam's useless when he's been drinking, but he's not gonna ask for any more information there.
Plus… "You tell him I'm here?"
"No," she admits quietly. And he's not saying that means she prefers his company to her boyfriend's, because even he's not that much of an ass. But still.
They fall asleep together in their clothes on her bed and it's like, 2:00 in the morning when he wakes up and realizes his mom's gotta be freaking the fuck out. He told her he was stopping by to see a friend, but didn't say he wouldn't be home. Plus, he doesn't want Rachel feeling any kind of guilt over this or whatever, which she might if they way up together in the morning.
So he kisses her forehead and pulls the blanket up over her shoulders, puts the wine glasses in the sink in the kitchen and makes sure the door's locked when he lets himself out. He texts her to tell her what time he left and says he'll see her at the wedding.
He's trying really damn hard to ignore how much he didn't want to leave at all.
… … …
Rachel's dancing with Sam and having as much fun as she can when she's this annoyed by Noah's display with Blaine's mother.
It's absolutely foolish of her to care, but she does.
He's her friend, and there's no way he or anyone else can deny that at this point. She supports him and he supports her, and she is one hundred per cent certain that if she ever needed anything, he'd do his best to provide it. Of course, she's not ever going to say that to him, because he'll talk about sex and having it with her, and to be perfectly honest, she doesn't need to start doing that, too. More than she does. Not that she does it a lot, by any means, and it's never anything more than a passing curiosity, but still. Their friendship so far is devoid of any real sexual innuendo, and she'd like it to stay that way.
In short, it really should not affect her at all that he's spinning Blaine's intoxicated mother around on the dance floor and holding her up when she can't do it for herself.
Maybe he's heartbroken, or as close to it as he can be considering, Rachel thinks, he's had one foot out the door of his relationship for a while now. She's not being rude, either, she just knows he hasn't been happy and whether he wants to admit it or not, he was probably waiting for Quinn to pull the plug on the whole thing before he did it.
Sam kisses her, presses his tongue into her mouth in a way that isn't inappropriate, and says something in her ear about how he can't wait to get home. It's basically all he can muster as far as dirty talk goes, and that's fine, too. She kisses his cheek and squeezes his hand, laughs when he attempts to dip her.
She's checking on the status of the limo that's coming to pick up the newlyweds, so she's outside by the main door of the barn on her phone when Noah walks by.
Yes, walks by.
"Hey," she calls out, more loudly than she wants to and definitely less eloquently.
"What?"
He seems mad, but she can't for the life of her figure out why he would be. He's looked as though he's having a blast, she thinks bitterly, and there's no reason why he should be this gruff with her.
(She's the one he left alone in bed last night, and she feels horrible for caring as much as she does about that. It's just not what she was expecting, waking up alone.)
"Are you okay?" she asks. Because that's really all she wants to know.
Noah leans against the wall next to her, close enough that if anyone were to see them they might wonder what's going on. "Do I not look okay?"
"You look amazing," she says without thinking, then sees the slow grin spread across his lips. He planned that. "You look like you're having fun."
"I am." She just stares at him. "How do you want me to act?"
He's really going to make her spell it out for him. "You just ended a long term relationship. I thought you might take more time to process before picking up someone's mother."
He gives her a look like that was a horrible thing to say, and he might be right, really. "This is how I process, Berry."
It's been so long since he called her that. It sounds strange coming from his mouth.
"She's Blaine's mother," she repeats.
Noah's hand settles on her waist and Rachel's heart beats harder. What is he doing? "Jealous?" he asks lowly, and no, that's not what this is.
"Hardly. Concerned, more like."
"Mhm," he says, then looks at her mouth. "You look real concerned right now."
God, she can't even argue that and say she's not turned on. It's awful and she feels like a horrible person, horrible girlfriend. Sam is just inside those doors, waiting for her, and she's out here and Noah is making her feel like she's ready to crawl out of her skin.
"What are you doing?" she asks, and she means right now with her, and in general tonight, with everyone else. She sets her hand on his chest, to push him away if she needs to, and as a show of comfort over the fact that he's really just not fooling her at all. "You don't have anything to prove here."
He takes a deep breath, pushes his fingers gently through his hair to get it off his forehead and back into place, and says, "Yeah, thanks," like he really doesn't care at all about what she's said.
Rachel has to stay until the very end of the reception, even though she's exhausted by 11:30 and just wants to be at home in bed with her boyfriend. She's put at ease a little bit when she sees Blaine putting his mother into a cab alone and Noah dancing with Santana and Brittany like he really doesn't care that what looked like his best shot at having sex tonight just left. He might not even notice.
He does notice - she watches him notice - the way she's sitting on Sam's lap at the head table and drinking a glass of sparkling cider. The look Noah is giving her is confusing, at best, so she stops paying attention and asks Sam if he'd like to go out for brunch tomorrow morning before the gift opening at Santana's house.
… … …
It's fucking annoying that he feels like he should apologize to Rachel, because he's about 98 per cent sure he didn't do anything wrong and she's got nothing to be pissed about. Yeah, he may have shown a little more of his hand than he would have liked, but he doesn't even think she picked up on it, so whatever. There's really no reason for him not to go out - to a wedding or anywhere else - and have a bit of fun and flirt with whoever he wants to.
Okay, maybe Blaine's mom wasn't the best choice, but fuck it. She sought him out.
So when Rachel shows up at his mom's house at like 3:00 with a coffee for him and a tea for her, he's totally surprised and really not sure what the hell she came here for. He thinks that if she were gonna be shitty about last night she wouldn't bring him coffee. But it's Rachel, so you can't be too certain.
"You didn't come to the gift opening." Pretty obvious, so he just stands there looking at her. "You should have. It was nice."
"Sounded boring," he says, shrugging one shoulder. He'd bet good money that it was a waste of time. He's watched Santana open presents before and it's really not that great. "What's up?"
Rachel takes a deep breath like she does when she's preparing to do or say something she doesn't really want to. He's seen enough of her forced interactions over the years to pick up on that.
"It occurred to me that I wasn't very nice to you last night."
He waits. There's nothing more coming out of her mouth. He's a bit confused.
"Is that like an apology?" he asks, 'cause he's really not sure.
Rachel is looking at him like she wasn't expecting any pushback from this, which is pretty shitty, if you ask him.
"Of sorts," she says.
"Does that mean you're sorry? Or that you're not sorry but you don't want me to be pissed, so you're at least saying something that sounds like…"
"I'm sorry," she blurts, and he figures she means it. She's a hell of an actress, but a bad liar, and he doesn't even understand how that's possible. "I was…It's not my business who you spend time with. I was just worried about you, and it came out in the worst possible way."
"Why are you worried about me?" he asks, heading back to the sofa. His mom's working a day shift and Hannah's off at a friend's place; he drove her there after lunch. Rachel sits down next to him and turns herself towards him.
She looks good, too. He's pretty sure she's not wearing any makeup at all, but it's hard to tell 'cause she's so fucking pretty. Her hair's pulled up and she's just wearing black jeans and a burgundy sweater, and he's fucking positive she thinks she looks like crap, but that's just so wrong.
"You've just come out of a relationship and I…" She shrugs both shoulders slowly as she looks at him. "I just want you to be happy."
"Sex makes me happy," he tells her, and it's the truth, and he didn't even say it just to make her blush, but because he's trying to get his point across. He's not self destructing, he was dancing with a woman. And yeah, if that had turned into something and meant he got off last night, then fuck yeah. It didn't, and that's fine, too. He's just not really into her acting like he needs a fucking intervention. "I just mean it's not like I was drunk off my face and making an ass of myself."
Rachel tilts her head and has a mean little smile on. "I think Blaine's mother was doing enough of that for the both of you."
He doesn't want to laugh, but it's fucking funny. It sends Rachel laughing, too, and yeah, he likes making her do that. She doesn't do it enough. They always talk about serious shit and he'd like to see this more.
"You don't have to worry about me," he says after they've calmed down again.
"I'm sure that's true, but I'm going to do it anyway."