Come In From The Cold
Title: Come In From The Cold
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: R
Character: Puck/Rachel
Prompt: Rachel and Puck get stuck in a snow drift and need to resort to body heat to stay warm. Extra points if Puck points out it'll work better if they're naked, double points if Rachel agrees.
Word Count: 5,650
Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: Drabble. Ha.
Of course. Of course he's gonna be stuck driving back from that stupid concert with Rachel. He didn't even want to go, and then no one was volunteering to take her home and he drove by himself, and so he said he'd take her so she wouldn't feel like she got picked last in gym or whatever. This time it was Artie who got picked last, so Puck feels shitty and kind of pissed off. Everyone knows Artie can't get into Puck's truck though.
Rachel's having trouble, too.
Shit's been awkward between them lately, 'cause she's blaming him for breaking up her and Finn. Fucked, since it's totally not even close to being his fault this time. He didn't touch her or kiss her, and he thinks she's just blaming him so she has someone to blame.
Whatever. All it means that she hasn't said anything and it's been 15 minutes, so the rest of the four and a half hour drive is going to be awesome.
After another few minutes, she turns to him. "Do you mind if I plug in my iPod?" she asks. He takes his eyes off the road for a second to look at her like she's lost her mind. "I promise you won't be subjected to even one song from a musical of any kind, Broadway or no."
Okay, that doesn't sound so bad. "Alright."
She hooks it up and scrolls through until she's found what she's looking for, and seriously, she's really making him regret ever telling her that he doesn't totally hate Kelly Clarkson and he thinks she's kind of a kickass girl singer. He should have known she'd take that to the limit and never let him live it down. Whatever.
"Hey, what the fuck?" he asks after a while.
Seriously. She's just sitting there all quiet with her hands tucked under her legs, but that's not even what he's talking about. He's talking about her giving him the brush off since she and Finn ended shit two months ago. And no, she hasn't said she blames him for it, but he's assuming that since she's barely said two words to him, she's somehow deduced that it's his fault.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Why are you so pissed at me?"
She laughs and turns her legs towards him. "I'm not upset with you." Fuck that. He gives her a look. "I just assumed that since Finn is your best friend, he'd get you in the breakup."
He laughs a little. "He'd get me?"
"You know. Friends always seem to be divided after other friends break up. And it's not like you and I are really anything more than acquaintances."
He fixes his eyes on the road and the snow that's starting to fall.
He doesn't really agree with that.
(Part of the reason he's so annoyed with her ignoring him is because he kinda really doesn't mind her at all.)
... ... ...
They're about an hour into the drive when the wind picks up and Rachel stars bouncing her knee up and down like she's nervous. He's a good driver and she doesn't have to be worried about anything. Then again, he did put two hands on the wheel and he never does that. He's just being cautious.
"Kelly Clarkson's totally hot," he blurts out. She's being too quiet again and he wants to distract her from whatever horror scene she has paying in her head. (Chick probably thinks they'll go into the ditch and then be murdered by some hunter with a hatchet or something. Not that he's thinking about it.)
"I think so, too." He glances at her quickly. Totally sexy that she's talking about a girl this way. "People are too hard on her about her weight."
"She's sexy as hell," he says again. "Just more to hold onto, you know?"
She giggles and he smiles, and when he looks at her again, she's running her hand up and down her thigh like she might think she's fat or something. Whatever. She has to know she's not.
He thinks the last thing he said to her before she and Finn broke up was that her body is totally unreal underneath those clothes. He remembers 'cause it pissed Finn off and he thought that meant Puck had seen what's under her clothes.
Unfortunately not.
... ... ...
He knows his truck. He's had her since he got his learner's permit and he knows all her little noises and tricks. So he kind of knows the noise she's making right now doesn't mean anything good.
Rachel's got her elbow against the door and her head resting on her hand, kind of falling in and out of sleep. When he steers to the shoulder on her side of the road, she perks up and asks what's going on.
And then the engine totally dies and he takes a deep breath and holds it in as long as he can so he doesn't yell a really bad word as loud as he can.
He turns the key and tries to start it again, but he knows it's not going to work. It's a denial thing that he does that again. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"We're stranded, aren't we?" she asks.
She's being like, weirdly calm right now.
"Yeah." He sighs and tips his head back, and watches from the corner of her eye as she reaches for her phone.
"Service is going in and out, but I think I can send my fathers a text."
He watches her pretty intently as she keys in a message and hits send.
"Since when are you good in a crisis?" he asks seriously.
She laughs and raises her brow, says, "Always," and then stares at him like she's waiting for him to suggest otherwise.
... ... ...
No one texts either of them back, so he's thinking service sucks out here and they're kind of screwed. It's after midnight, and it's dark and fucking freezing. His mom was always on his ass about keeping some food in his truck, and a blanket and some matches and whatever. He used the matches already when he and Finn were...Whatever. Let's just say it was an epic prank they pulled on Sandy Ryerson after the dude said Rachel's not talented enough to make it. Finn wanted to get revenge and Puck was kind of the brains of the operation, so they pulled that shit together.
Anyway.
He's got a blanket and a few Powerbars, and there are at least five bottles of water rolling around behind his seat. They'll be okay.
He offers Rachel the blanket first, 'cause seriously, her skirt is short and her legs are just covered in a thin pair of tights, so he's thinking his jeans are warmer than that.
"Thank you," she says.
Then she moves a little closer and tucks her hands under the blanket after draping it over his legs, too.
... ... ...
"If we die here, how long d'you think it'll take 'em to find our bodies?"
He watches her for a reaction, just 'cause her being so cool about this is freaking him the fuck out.
She laughs a little. "Don't be ridiculous, Noah. Someone will come looking for me soon." He laughs so hard his side hurts. "Us. Come looking for us."
He shakes his head and she giggles. When he reaches for his phone again, he sees that he's got one bar of battery left, so he tries to make another call, even though none of the rest went through. He tries Artie, but gets just dead air.
He tells her he's going to check the engine again and see if there's anything he can do. He's pretty sure there's not. He knows cars well enough, but he just can't see anything wrong right now. He knows that if he could get Burt on the phone, they could talk through it and probably have the old girl running in no time. Too bad phones don't work right now.
The snow's picking up, and he puts his hood up over his head as soon as he's outside. Rachel's watching him pretty closely until he puts the hood up and he can't see her anymore.
And yeah, there are no loose hoses and no cracks in anything. He knows he has plenty of gas and he just changed the oil, so it's nothing like that. Power steering and brakes have nothing to do with the problem, and he's just got to realize that they're basically fucked. They're stuck in the middle of nowhere and they're fucked until a car comes along and hopefully stops.
He's shivering like a mofo when he gets back into the truck, and Rachel gets all close to him and puts the blanket all on him. He pushes it away, though, and looks at her like she's nuts.
"I'm okay right now. You're chilled through," she tells him.
But he doesn't really believe her, since her cheeks and nose are all red and her hands are like ice when one touches his face as she fusses with the blanket.
"Body heat," he says before he can tell himself to shut the fuck up. She meets his eyes. "Best way to keep warm."
She nods.
She nods.
"Yes, you're right," she says, and then presses herself all up against him, loops her arm through his and pulls her legs up onto the seat so her knees are resting on top of his thigh. She puts her head against his shoulder. "You're freezing."
And since she's kind of responding well to him and the cold is apparently making him think it's a good idea to hit on her like he generally always seems to want to, he says, "We should get naked."
She laughs, but she doesn't like, punch him or anything.
"I've been counting down the minutes until you suggested it," she manages. He laughs with her, but sets his hand on her knee to show he's not totally joking. At all. "That also gave me time to get used to the idea."
Wait. What?
"Seriously?"
She shrugs her shoulder and pulls away. "It's really cold. I have tights on, and...I won't be naked."
He looks at her like she's crazy and also awesome. "I will be."
She raises her brow. "No, you won't," she insists seriously. Fine. Whatever. "Wait, are you wearing underpants today?" His eyes widen. How does she know that some days he doesn't? "Finn overshares sometimes."
He's just looking at her, 'cause honestly, she looks kind of fucking adorable right now, with her hair less than perfect and her cheeks all pink like that. He's a total punk for thinking it, but whatever. Extenuating circumstances or whatever. And if she's sitting here and legit going to take her clothes off and share her body heat with him, he's thinking maybe tonight doesn't suck as bad as he originally thought.
Even if she wasn't Rachel she'd still be a mostly naked girl all curled up with him. The fact that she is Rachel makes it even better.
"Turn around," she says. He blinks at her. She's already got her coat off. "I'm not stripping in front of you, Puckerman, so turn around."
He laughs at her and starts unzipping his jacket. "If I'm gonna see anyway, what's the difference?"
"You're most certainly not going to see. You're going to turn around and I'm going to be under the blanket when I say it's okay for you to look."
He wants to scoff at that. Sure. That's what's going to happen. Then she shrieks his name and he holds up his hands and turns away from her. Fine. If she wants to suck the fun out of all this, then whatever.
He pushes his coat off and hears her moving around. He knows she lifts her hips up off the seat because her thigh is still right next to his, and he hears the breath she sucks in when he starts unbuckling his belt and pulls his zipper down. He's got his jeans off and is just taking off his hoodie when she says, "Okay," in this quiet little voice and he looks over his shoulder to see her sitting there with the blanket pulled up to her chin.
He grabs the back of his tee shirt and pulls it off, and she's crazy if she thinks they're going to stay vertical or whatever. They'll be able to get closer if they lay down across the seat, and she looks like she knows that. When he leans over and puts his hand on her side, she moves without him having to tell her to, brings her legs up onto the seat and lets him pin her between the back of the seat and his body. She'll be warmer this way, and as cold as he is, he knows she has to be colder 'cause she's all small and stuff.
"You alright?" he asks. She loops her arm up under his and sets her hand on his shoulder blade as she tangles their legs together.
Fuck.
She shivers against him and nods her head. "You?"
He can feel her nipples hard against his chest through the tiny little tank top she's apparently wearing (he ran his hand down her side to see if she's wearing a bra, and she's not). Yeah, he's okay. When he puts his hand on her hip he feels her panties through her tights, and he's fighting a losing battle here. She's going to be freaked out when (not if) he gets hard, but there's really nothing he can do about it.
He watches her close her eyes and he realizes they're kind of just cuddling. Like, this is probably the kind of shit she does when she's in a relationship. He doesn't know the status of her virginity - for all Finn's stupid babbling, he never mentioned it and Puck never asked - but he's thinking she'd be like this after the fact, after sex. She'd be all quiet and warm and sleepy.
Yeah, thinking about what she'd be like after sex? Really stupid move.
She doesn't mention it, the fact that he's totally hard right now, and he could be embarrassed if he let himself.
He just mumbles, "Sorry," and tries not to move, and she nods her head like she understands or something.
Then she kind of shifts her hips.
He doesn't know if she means to do it, but it happens and he groans and closes his eyes. She's probably just getting comfortable or something, which isn't really fair 'cause he can tell 'comfort' isn't exactly on the table for him right now.
"Noah," she almost whispers.
"Yeah, I can't really...You're like, practically naked. Not my fault." She actually giggles and he'd kill to know what she's thinking. "D'you wanna...You could like, spoon me if you're uncomfortable and shit."
She shakes her head and says, "It's fine," and honestly, he's thinking she'd be warmer if he was on top of her.
Stop thinking about sex, idiot.
"Yeah?" he asks. He traces his fingertip along the top of her tights and she shivers a little bit. Her skin is still not all that warm, so he covers a cool patch at the back of her hip with his hand and tugs her tank top down further to cover her better.
"It's not like I've never...I mean, Finn and I..." He stops listening. Maybe she's trying to make him like, not be hard or something. He doesn't want to hear about her and Finn no matter what, though. "We never actually...did that. But..."
"But he's a dude, so you felt it. It's cool." He's being short with her, but she needs to stop talking about it. "Hey, Rach? Shut up."
She giggles and buries her face against his chest. "Sorry. I talk when things are awkward."
He doesn't mean to (totally does) rock his hips against hers subtly. "Not awkward."
He has no idea what he's trying to accomplish. Although she's mostly naked and he's hard as fuck for her, so yeah, he could probably work out some goals.
"Noah?" He makes some sound she must think means she can keep talking. "Maybe...Can you turn?"
He doesn't really want to. She's starting to feel kind of warm and even more awesome, and moving his dick away from that isn't awesome, but he's being a gentleman or some shit. Or at least he's trying. He nods and manages to turn around without falling onto the floor or something. She laughs at him for some reason - maybe because he kind of flops around, but whatever - and then she's breathing on his neck and her tits are pressed against his back.
Fuck.
Her fingertips push gently up his side from his hips to his ribs, then settle somewhere in the middle, palm warm against his skin. The back of her thigh moves a little so it's wedged between his ass and the back of the seat, and he's pretty sure that if anyone saw them right now, he'd be made fun of forever for this. Whatever. She's warm and he's making her that way, and until she starts running her fingers over his shoulder blade, drawing god knows what, he's totally cool with this.
But he kind of feels like her bitch. She's making him feel kind of totally fucking amazing without even trying. It's weird.
They're quiet for a few minutes, until she shivers again and he puts his hand over hers on his side, wraps his fingers around hers and gives it a tug so she's even closer to him.
"I never thought I'd be undressed with a boy for the first time in this situation."
She talks when things are awkward. He's totally making her nervous. He'd be worried about it, but fuck, she's kind of making him nervous, too.
"You're not undressed. You're practically still fully clothed." Not what he said earlier, but whatever. He's trying to comfort her and shit.
"I'm not wearing my skirt or sweater," she points out.
"Hmm." His eyes drift closed. Her hand drifts to the hair at the back of his neck.
"You're making it very hard to concentrate," she admits quietly, like she's embarrassed or something.
He laughs a little, glances at her over his shoulder. "What're you trying to concentrate on?"
She giggles and her fingertips push into his mohawk. "How come we never talk?" she asks.
He shrugs his shoulder. "I thought you were mad at me."
"I thought you didn't want to be my friend."
Maybe he doesn't.
"That's your whole problem," he says. Her hand stops moving and he feels her body tense a little. Fuck, that was probably the wrong thing to say. "You don't think anyone wants to like you and then you don't notice when they do."
Good job, Self. Asshole.
But her thumb moves over his hairline again (fuck, that feels good). "Are you saying you like me?"
She sounds like she's smiling. And not just like, 'you said something nice about me' smiling. 'I'm totally onto you, Puckerman,' smiling.
"Whatever." She just felt his dick against her thigh and she's questioning shit. Stupid. "Yeah. Maybe. I think."
She laughs, and he closes his eyes when her warm breath hits his skin. "You sound like you're confused."
"Not really."
She kisses the back of his shoulder.
He barely realizes that's what she's doing, only her lips are a little wet and her breath is all hot. She does it once and he doesn't think a whole lot of it. Then she moves her lips and does it again about an inch to the left. Then she's pulling her hand away from his and sliding it up the front of his body as she presses her lips to his bare skin.
Way hotter than intended.
"Hey," he says, grabbing onto her hand again.
"Hmm?" she murmurs against his back. "Sorry."
But her face is still pressed against his shoulder, and she doesn't sound embarrassed or anything. He likes that. And he can't reach like, any part of her to kiss, so he just raises her fingers to his mouth and kisses those. What he wants to do is turn around again and press her into the seat. God, he'd be so good at warming her up that way.
But he doesn't say that, just lets her pull the blanket up higher and say something about getting some sleep.
... ... ...
He wakes up and squints to see the clock on the dash - analog, 'cause his truck's old. He's been asleep less than a half hour. It's still dark and they're still stuck and Rachel's still laying behind him in, apparently, less than she's ever worn in front of another person before. He takes a deep breath and she must be able to tell he's awake, because she whispers his name.
"Come here," she says.
It's kind of stupid, since they can't really get any closer, but he thinks he knows exactly what she wants. He turns so he's facing her again, shivers when cold air sneaks its way into the blanket. Her hand moves to his hip, setting over the waistband of his boxers, and he kind of knows what's going to happen next, what she wants. But he's digging the way she's taking control here, so he lets her kiss him instead of kissing her first.
It's kind of weird.
Not like, bad. Not at all. It's just she's nervous or something, so it's kind of this little peck at first, then she moves back in quickly and tries to get closer to him. Since they're on practically a square inch of space, she can't, and he has to reach back and put his elbow against the dash to keep from falling. Then he figures just holding onto her a little tighter is way better than having to touch that cold plastic, and moves her so she's a little more under him. Her tights are smooth enough against his thighs, but fuck, she shouldn't be wearing him. There should not be so much fabric between them. He gets why there is and he's fine with it, he guesses, but damn.
He would fuck her right now if he didn't know she deserves better than that.
She pushes her tongue out to meet his, sighs into the kiss and goes a little liquid for him. He moves his hand up her body and she tenses when he gets a little close to her boob. (God, what is it with this girl and her tits? It's like Fort Knox trying to cop a feel.) She kisses him before he can ask, and then her teeth graze his lip and he moans. He's always loved that about kissing her; these tiny little bites she doesn't mean to happen.
She pulls away, gasps. "Sorry."
He laughs softly and moves his thumb over the underside of her boob. "I like it."
"You do?" she asks. He can barely see her, but her eyes are all sparkly and he digs it. He just nods, 'cause talking should not be on the agenda. Then she says, "Oh," and tugs at his bottom lip with her teeth and giggles when he groans.
Not fair. He tugs at her nipple to even the playing field, only the moan she lets out is probably the hottest fucking thing he's ever heard in his life, so, you know, that doesn't exactly help him either. She arches into his hand and her legs move to tangle all up with his, and she has to stop kissing him and gasp when he pushes his hand under her shirt and covers her breast. So maybe that's the reason she's so against people touching her rack; she fucking loves it too much or something.
And every time she moves her thigh, he has to stop himself from grinding against her. They're just making out, nothing more, and he knows it's not going any further so this is basically the worst kind of torture. It's not like he can even excuse himself and take care of this shit, either. He's just fucked and he's probably going to be hard for like, a year and a half now or something.
Then she whimpers out his name with her lips pressed to his cheek right next to his mouth and he can't stop himself from pushing his hips against her.
"We have to stop."
They're both probably shocked as hell that he's the one who says it.
But legit, if she keeps this up things are gonna be really uncomfortable (literally; physically) until someone comes along.
Then she says, "No," like a little gasp and he knows she has no idea what she wants right now. He really doesn't want to like, go against her wishes and stuff, so he moves his hand down and over her ass until he gets to her thigh, then he grabs it and pulls her lower half into his. She lets out this little purring sound.
"Fuck, Rachel, you're..." He can't finish, 'cause he feels her smiling against his neck where she's kissing him and it's basically the hottest thing ever.
"I'm really enjoying this," she tells him.
Yeah. He got that part.
"Yeah, me too." He hopes she was picking up on that. She nods, so apparently she understands. "But if we don't stop..."
"What?" she asks breathlessly, and moves her thigh so she's brushing against him even more.
He's not even like, dry humping with her and he's about to come in his boxers. Fucking unreal.
"I won't." He pulls away from her so he can look at her (it's still like, pitch black out, but whatever) and hopes she'll realize he's trying to be a good guy and not take advantage of the situation right now.
And he actually pulls her hand away when she tries to move it down his body.
He's not even himself right now. It's fucking weird.
"Noah," she says. She sounds embarrassed, and she really, really shouldn't be.
"Rach, not in the fucking freezing cold in the front of my truck," he tells her. She's breathing all shallow, like she might be trying not to cry. Fuck. "As soon as we get out of here."
She giggles a little and presses her face against his chest. "I am unbelievably attracted to you right now," she says.
He's pretty sure that's Rachel Speak for, "I'm totally wet for you, Puck."
She's making it really fucking difficult to say no.
"You can take off my tights," she whispers, eyes locked with his. "If you'd like."
Make that fucking impossible.
"People don't say no to you a lot, do they?" he asks. His fingers are dipping below the waistband of her tights, though, so whatever. She laughs and shakes her head, sucks in a breath when he moves his hand to her stomach, fingers grazing her hip bone. "I'm not going to fuck you here."
He should be picking better words.
"I don't want you to," she says. He starts pushing down her tights and he asks her what she does want. "Whatever you...Whatever you have to."
And that's Rachel Speak for, "Make me come."
So he does. It doesn't take a whole lot, but she makes the best fucking noises (as if she's even capable of sounding bad) and feels incredible. She grabs his bicep and her fingers dig into his skin, and when she kind of forgets to breathe, he reminds her and that makes her moan for some reason. Her back arches when she lets go, and honestly, she's kind of fucking beautiful.
And when she's got her breathing back to normal and she asks, "Can I?" as her hand slips into his boxers, he realizes she's just generally a really hard girl to say no to.
... ... ...
When the sun comes up she suggests they put their clothes back on. He doesn't really want to, 'cause, you know, clothes, but yeah, if one of those messages went through and say, her dads drive up and she's wearing just her panties and this little tank top that's barely even an article of clothing, he can probably kiss his life goodbye.
When she kisses him after he hands her her tights back, he's thinking he kind of likes his life right now.
It's Santana who pulls up in her dad's four wheel drive SUV. When they meet her outside his truck, she crosses her arms against the cold.
"I'm totally shocked you're both still alive. I thought he would have killed you by now," Santana says, eyeing Rachel like she's dirt or something. Puck's pretty pissed about it, but Rachel speaks before he can.
"It was touch and go for a while."
He looks at her like she's nuts. Santana is good with subtext and that wasn't all that subtle.
"I bet it was," Santana laughs. "Fuck, Puck." She shakes her head and fuck it, he kisses Rachel. He likes her and whatever Santana (or anyone else) has to say about it doesn't change that. "Your text just came through this morning. Dad's calling a tow for you."
"Thanks," he says, holding out his fist. She rolls her eyes as she bumps hers against it.
"Can we go? It's fucking freezing out here," she notes.
Rachel climbs into the front seat of Santana's SUV when he holds the door open for her, and he sits in the back and tries not to be annoyed when Santana starts asking embarrassing questions and laughing at how red Rachel gets.
When they get to Rachel's house, he gets out so he can walk her to the door like some kind of gentleman or something. Santana apparently stopped here this morning and Rachel's dads were like, two seconds away from sending out a search party, so he's thinking they're probably going to lose their minds when they're daughter strolls into the house. He slips his hands into her hair and kisses her, not giving a fuck who is or could be watching, and she grabs onto the front of his coat.
"Come over later?" she asks hopefully, eyes all wide. He's gotta deal with his truck and stuff, but he nods anyway. "I might be cold."
He laughs and kisses her again. "You're fucking cute. You know that?"
She giggles and smiles and hops up on her toes to kiss him quickly. "Call me."
She disappears behind the door to her house and he walks back to Santana's car with his hands in his pockets, and when he climbs in the front seat, she says, "Stop smiling, asshole," while she laughs.
He flips her off and ignores every question she asks about how good Rachel is. None of her fucking business and he's not sharing. He doesn't want to share Rachel with anyone, and he's thinking he doesn't have to.
She's totally his girl now, and he's gonna go over there later and make sure he tells her that. He's thinking she already knows, but it can't hurt to make sure.
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: R
Character: Puck/Rachel
Prompt: Rachel and Puck get stuck in a snow drift and need to resort to body heat to stay warm. Extra points if Puck points out it'll work better if they're naked, double points if Rachel agrees.
Word Count: 5,650
Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: Drabble. Ha.
Of course. Of course he's gonna be stuck driving back from that stupid concert with Rachel. He didn't even want to go, and then no one was volunteering to take her home and he drove by himself, and so he said he'd take her so she wouldn't feel like she got picked last in gym or whatever. This time it was Artie who got picked last, so Puck feels shitty and kind of pissed off. Everyone knows Artie can't get into Puck's truck though.
Rachel's having trouble, too.
Shit's been awkward between them lately, 'cause she's blaming him for breaking up her and Finn. Fucked, since it's totally not even close to being his fault this time. He didn't touch her or kiss her, and he thinks she's just blaming him so she has someone to blame.
Whatever. All it means that she hasn't said anything and it's been 15 minutes, so the rest of the four and a half hour drive is going to be awesome.
After another few minutes, she turns to him. "Do you mind if I plug in my iPod?" she asks. He takes his eyes off the road for a second to look at her like she's lost her mind. "I promise you won't be subjected to even one song from a musical of any kind, Broadway or no."
Okay, that doesn't sound so bad. "Alright."
She hooks it up and scrolls through until she's found what she's looking for, and seriously, she's really making him regret ever telling her that he doesn't totally hate Kelly Clarkson and he thinks she's kind of a kickass girl singer. He should have known she'd take that to the limit and never let him live it down. Whatever.
"Hey, what the fuck?" he asks after a while.
Seriously. She's just sitting there all quiet with her hands tucked under her legs, but that's not even what he's talking about. He's talking about her giving him the brush off since she and Finn ended shit two months ago. And no, she hasn't said she blames him for it, but he's assuming that since she's barely said two words to him, she's somehow deduced that it's his fault.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Why are you so pissed at me?"
She laughs and turns her legs towards him. "I'm not upset with you." Fuck that. He gives her a look. "I just assumed that since Finn is your best friend, he'd get you in the breakup."
He laughs a little. "He'd get me?"
"You know. Friends always seem to be divided after other friends break up. And it's not like you and I are really anything more than acquaintances."
He fixes his eyes on the road and the snow that's starting to fall.
He doesn't really agree with that.
(Part of the reason he's so annoyed with her ignoring him is because he kinda really doesn't mind her at all.)
... ... ...
They're about an hour into the drive when the wind picks up and Rachel stars bouncing her knee up and down like she's nervous. He's a good driver and she doesn't have to be worried about anything. Then again, he did put two hands on the wheel and he never does that. He's just being cautious.
"Kelly Clarkson's totally hot," he blurts out. She's being too quiet again and he wants to distract her from whatever horror scene she has paying in her head. (Chick probably thinks they'll go into the ditch and then be murdered by some hunter with a hatchet or something. Not that he's thinking about it.)
"I think so, too." He glances at her quickly. Totally sexy that she's talking about a girl this way. "People are too hard on her about her weight."
"She's sexy as hell," he says again. "Just more to hold onto, you know?"
She giggles and he smiles, and when he looks at her again, she's running her hand up and down her thigh like she might think she's fat or something. Whatever. She has to know she's not.
He thinks the last thing he said to her before she and Finn broke up was that her body is totally unreal underneath those clothes. He remembers 'cause it pissed Finn off and he thought that meant Puck had seen what's under her clothes.
Unfortunately not.
... ... ...
He knows his truck. He's had her since he got his learner's permit and he knows all her little noises and tricks. So he kind of knows the noise she's making right now doesn't mean anything good.
Rachel's got her elbow against the door and her head resting on her hand, kind of falling in and out of sleep. When he steers to the shoulder on her side of the road, she perks up and asks what's going on.
And then the engine totally dies and he takes a deep breath and holds it in as long as he can so he doesn't yell a really bad word as loud as he can.
He turns the key and tries to start it again, but he knows it's not going to work. It's a denial thing that he does that again. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"We're stranded, aren't we?" she asks.
She's being like, weirdly calm right now.
"Yeah." He sighs and tips his head back, and watches from the corner of her eye as she reaches for her phone.
"Service is going in and out, but I think I can send my fathers a text."
He watches her pretty intently as she keys in a message and hits send.
"Since when are you good in a crisis?" he asks seriously.
She laughs and raises her brow, says, "Always," and then stares at him like she's waiting for him to suggest otherwise.
... ... ...
No one texts either of them back, so he's thinking service sucks out here and they're kind of screwed. It's after midnight, and it's dark and fucking freezing. His mom was always on his ass about keeping some food in his truck, and a blanket and some matches and whatever. He used the matches already when he and Finn were...Whatever. Let's just say it was an epic prank they pulled on Sandy Ryerson after the dude said Rachel's not talented enough to make it. Finn wanted to get revenge and Puck was kind of the brains of the operation, so they pulled that shit together.
Anyway.
He's got a blanket and a few Powerbars, and there are at least five bottles of water rolling around behind his seat. They'll be okay.
He offers Rachel the blanket first, 'cause seriously, her skirt is short and her legs are just covered in a thin pair of tights, so he's thinking his jeans are warmer than that.
"Thank you," she says.
Then she moves a little closer and tucks her hands under the blanket after draping it over his legs, too.
... ... ...
"If we die here, how long d'you think it'll take 'em to find our bodies?"
He watches her for a reaction, just 'cause her being so cool about this is freaking him the fuck out.
She laughs a little. "Don't be ridiculous, Noah. Someone will come looking for me soon." He laughs so hard his side hurts. "Us. Come looking for us."
He shakes his head and she giggles. When he reaches for his phone again, he sees that he's got one bar of battery left, so he tries to make another call, even though none of the rest went through. He tries Artie, but gets just dead air.
He tells her he's going to check the engine again and see if there's anything he can do. He's pretty sure there's not. He knows cars well enough, but he just can't see anything wrong right now. He knows that if he could get Burt on the phone, they could talk through it and probably have the old girl running in no time. Too bad phones don't work right now.
The snow's picking up, and he puts his hood up over his head as soon as he's outside. Rachel's watching him pretty closely until he puts the hood up and he can't see her anymore.
And yeah, there are no loose hoses and no cracks in anything. He knows he has plenty of gas and he just changed the oil, so it's nothing like that. Power steering and brakes have nothing to do with the problem, and he's just got to realize that they're basically fucked. They're stuck in the middle of nowhere and they're fucked until a car comes along and hopefully stops.
He's shivering like a mofo when he gets back into the truck, and Rachel gets all close to him and puts the blanket all on him. He pushes it away, though, and looks at her like she's nuts.
"I'm okay right now. You're chilled through," she tells him.
But he doesn't really believe her, since her cheeks and nose are all red and her hands are like ice when one touches his face as she fusses with the blanket.
"Body heat," he says before he can tell himself to shut the fuck up. She meets his eyes. "Best way to keep warm."
She nods.
She nods.
"Yes, you're right," she says, and then presses herself all up against him, loops her arm through his and pulls her legs up onto the seat so her knees are resting on top of his thigh. She puts her head against his shoulder. "You're freezing."
And since she's kind of responding well to him and the cold is apparently making him think it's a good idea to hit on her like he generally always seems to want to, he says, "We should get naked."
She laughs, but she doesn't like, punch him or anything.
"I've been counting down the minutes until you suggested it," she manages. He laughs with her, but sets his hand on her knee to show he's not totally joking. At all. "That also gave me time to get used to the idea."
Wait. What?
"Seriously?"
She shrugs her shoulder and pulls away. "It's really cold. I have tights on, and...I won't be naked."
He looks at her like she's crazy and also awesome. "I will be."
She raises her brow. "No, you won't," she insists seriously. Fine. Whatever. "Wait, are you wearing underpants today?" His eyes widen. How does she know that some days he doesn't? "Finn overshares sometimes."
He's just looking at her, 'cause honestly, she looks kind of fucking adorable right now, with her hair less than perfect and her cheeks all pink like that. He's a total punk for thinking it, but whatever. Extenuating circumstances or whatever. And if she's sitting here and legit going to take her clothes off and share her body heat with him, he's thinking maybe tonight doesn't suck as bad as he originally thought.
Even if she wasn't Rachel she'd still be a mostly naked girl all curled up with him. The fact that she is Rachel makes it even better.
"Turn around," she says. He blinks at her. She's already got her coat off. "I'm not stripping in front of you, Puckerman, so turn around."
He laughs at her and starts unzipping his jacket. "If I'm gonna see anyway, what's the difference?"
"You're most certainly not going to see. You're going to turn around and I'm going to be under the blanket when I say it's okay for you to look."
He wants to scoff at that. Sure. That's what's going to happen. Then she shrieks his name and he holds up his hands and turns away from her. Fine. If she wants to suck the fun out of all this, then whatever.
He pushes his coat off and hears her moving around. He knows she lifts her hips up off the seat because her thigh is still right next to his, and he hears the breath she sucks in when he starts unbuckling his belt and pulls his zipper down. He's got his jeans off and is just taking off his hoodie when she says, "Okay," in this quiet little voice and he looks over his shoulder to see her sitting there with the blanket pulled up to her chin.
He grabs the back of his tee shirt and pulls it off, and she's crazy if she thinks they're going to stay vertical or whatever. They'll be able to get closer if they lay down across the seat, and she looks like she knows that. When he leans over and puts his hand on her side, she moves without him having to tell her to, brings her legs up onto the seat and lets him pin her between the back of the seat and his body. She'll be warmer this way, and as cold as he is, he knows she has to be colder 'cause she's all small and stuff.
"You alright?" he asks. She loops her arm up under his and sets her hand on his shoulder blade as she tangles their legs together.
Fuck.
She shivers against him and nods her head. "You?"
He can feel her nipples hard against his chest through the tiny little tank top she's apparently wearing (he ran his hand down her side to see if she's wearing a bra, and she's not). Yeah, he's okay. When he puts his hand on her hip he feels her panties through her tights, and he's fighting a losing battle here. She's going to be freaked out when (not if) he gets hard, but there's really nothing he can do about it.
He watches her close her eyes and he realizes they're kind of just cuddling. Like, this is probably the kind of shit she does when she's in a relationship. He doesn't know the status of her virginity - for all Finn's stupid babbling, he never mentioned it and Puck never asked - but he's thinking she'd be like this after the fact, after sex. She'd be all quiet and warm and sleepy.
Yeah, thinking about what she'd be like after sex? Really stupid move.
She doesn't mention it, the fact that he's totally hard right now, and he could be embarrassed if he let himself.
He just mumbles, "Sorry," and tries not to move, and she nods her head like she understands or something.
Then she kind of shifts her hips.
He doesn't know if she means to do it, but it happens and he groans and closes his eyes. She's probably just getting comfortable or something, which isn't really fair 'cause he can tell 'comfort' isn't exactly on the table for him right now.
"Noah," she almost whispers.
"Yeah, I can't really...You're like, practically naked. Not my fault." She actually giggles and he'd kill to know what she's thinking. "D'you wanna...You could like, spoon me if you're uncomfortable and shit."
She shakes her head and says, "It's fine," and honestly, he's thinking she'd be warmer if he was on top of her.
Stop thinking about sex, idiot.
"Yeah?" he asks. He traces his fingertip along the top of her tights and she shivers a little bit. Her skin is still not all that warm, so he covers a cool patch at the back of her hip with his hand and tugs her tank top down further to cover her better.
"It's not like I've never...I mean, Finn and I..." He stops listening. Maybe she's trying to make him like, not be hard or something. He doesn't want to hear about her and Finn no matter what, though. "We never actually...did that. But..."
"But he's a dude, so you felt it. It's cool." He's being short with her, but she needs to stop talking about it. "Hey, Rach? Shut up."
She giggles and buries her face against his chest. "Sorry. I talk when things are awkward."
He doesn't mean to (totally does) rock his hips against hers subtly. "Not awkward."
He has no idea what he's trying to accomplish. Although she's mostly naked and he's hard as fuck for her, so yeah, he could probably work out some goals.
"Noah?" He makes some sound she must think means she can keep talking. "Maybe...Can you turn?"
He doesn't really want to. She's starting to feel kind of warm and even more awesome, and moving his dick away from that isn't awesome, but he's being a gentleman or some shit. Or at least he's trying. He nods and manages to turn around without falling onto the floor or something. She laughs at him for some reason - maybe because he kind of flops around, but whatever - and then she's breathing on his neck and her tits are pressed against his back.
Fuck.
Her fingertips push gently up his side from his hips to his ribs, then settle somewhere in the middle, palm warm against his skin. The back of her thigh moves a little so it's wedged between his ass and the back of the seat, and he's pretty sure that if anyone saw them right now, he'd be made fun of forever for this. Whatever. She's warm and he's making her that way, and until she starts running her fingers over his shoulder blade, drawing god knows what, he's totally cool with this.
But he kind of feels like her bitch. She's making him feel kind of totally fucking amazing without even trying. It's weird.
They're quiet for a few minutes, until she shivers again and he puts his hand over hers on his side, wraps his fingers around hers and gives it a tug so she's even closer to him.
"I never thought I'd be undressed with a boy for the first time in this situation."
She talks when things are awkward. He's totally making her nervous. He'd be worried about it, but fuck, she's kind of making him nervous, too.
"You're not undressed. You're practically still fully clothed." Not what he said earlier, but whatever. He's trying to comfort her and shit.
"I'm not wearing my skirt or sweater," she points out.
"Hmm." His eyes drift closed. Her hand drifts to the hair at the back of his neck.
"You're making it very hard to concentrate," she admits quietly, like she's embarrassed or something.
He laughs a little, glances at her over his shoulder. "What're you trying to concentrate on?"
She giggles and her fingertips push into his mohawk. "How come we never talk?" she asks.
He shrugs his shoulder. "I thought you were mad at me."
"I thought you didn't want to be my friend."
Maybe he doesn't.
"That's your whole problem," he says. Her hand stops moving and he feels her body tense a little. Fuck, that was probably the wrong thing to say. "You don't think anyone wants to like you and then you don't notice when they do."
Good job, Self. Asshole.
But her thumb moves over his hairline again (fuck, that feels good). "Are you saying you like me?"
She sounds like she's smiling. And not just like, 'you said something nice about me' smiling. 'I'm totally onto you, Puckerman,' smiling.
"Whatever." She just felt his dick against her thigh and she's questioning shit. Stupid. "Yeah. Maybe. I think."
She laughs, and he closes his eyes when her warm breath hits his skin. "You sound like you're confused."
"Not really."
She kisses the back of his shoulder.
He barely realizes that's what she's doing, only her lips are a little wet and her breath is all hot. She does it once and he doesn't think a whole lot of it. Then she moves her lips and does it again about an inch to the left. Then she's pulling her hand away from his and sliding it up the front of his body as she presses her lips to his bare skin.
Way hotter than intended.
"Hey," he says, grabbing onto her hand again.
"Hmm?" she murmurs against his back. "Sorry."
But her face is still pressed against his shoulder, and she doesn't sound embarrassed or anything. He likes that. And he can't reach like, any part of her to kiss, so he just raises her fingers to his mouth and kisses those. What he wants to do is turn around again and press her into the seat. God, he'd be so good at warming her up that way.
But he doesn't say that, just lets her pull the blanket up higher and say something about getting some sleep.
... ... ...
He wakes up and squints to see the clock on the dash - analog, 'cause his truck's old. He's been asleep less than a half hour. It's still dark and they're still stuck and Rachel's still laying behind him in, apparently, less than she's ever worn in front of another person before. He takes a deep breath and she must be able to tell he's awake, because she whispers his name.
"Come here," she says.
It's kind of stupid, since they can't really get any closer, but he thinks he knows exactly what she wants. He turns so he's facing her again, shivers when cold air sneaks its way into the blanket. Her hand moves to his hip, setting over the waistband of his boxers, and he kind of knows what's going to happen next, what she wants. But he's digging the way she's taking control here, so he lets her kiss him instead of kissing her first.
It's kind of weird.
Not like, bad. Not at all. It's just she's nervous or something, so it's kind of this little peck at first, then she moves back in quickly and tries to get closer to him. Since they're on practically a square inch of space, she can't, and he has to reach back and put his elbow against the dash to keep from falling. Then he figures just holding onto her a little tighter is way better than having to touch that cold plastic, and moves her so she's a little more under him. Her tights are smooth enough against his thighs, but fuck, she shouldn't be wearing him. There should not be so much fabric between them. He gets why there is and he's fine with it, he guesses, but damn.
He would fuck her right now if he didn't know she deserves better than that.
She pushes her tongue out to meet his, sighs into the kiss and goes a little liquid for him. He moves his hand up her body and she tenses when he gets a little close to her boob. (God, what is it with this girl and her tits? It's like Fort Knox trying to cop a feel.) She kisses him before he can ask, and then her teeth graze his lip and he moans. He's always loved that about kissing her; these tiny little bites she doesn't mean to happen.
She pulls away, gasps. "Sorry."
He laughs softly and moves his thumb over the underside of her boob. "I like it."
"You do?" she asks. He can barely see her, but her eyes are all sparkly and he digs it. He just nods, 'cause talking should not be on the agenda. Then she says, "Oh," and tugs at his bottom lip with her teeth and giggles when he groans.
Not fair. He tugs at her nipple to even the playing field, only the moan she lets out is probably the hottest fucking thing he's ever heard in his life, so, you know, that doesn't exactly help him either. She arches into his hand and her legs move to tangle all up with his, and she has to stop kissing him and gasp when he pushes his hand under her shirt and covers her breast. So maybe that's the reason she's so against people touching her rack; she fucking loves it too much or something.
And every time she moves her thigh, he has to stop himself from grinding against her. They're just making out, nothing more, and he knows it's not going any further so this is basically the worst kind of torture. It's not like he can even excuse himself and take care of this shit, either. He's just fucked and he's probably going to be hard for like, a year and a half now or something.
Then she whimpers out his name with her lips pressed to his cheek right next to his mouth and he can't stop himself from pushing his hips against her.
"We have to stop."
They're both probably shocked as hell that he's the one who says it.
But legit, if she keeps this up things are gonna be really uncomfortable (literally; physically) until someone comes along.
Then she says, "No," like a little gasp and he knows she has no idea what she wants right now. He really doesn't want to like, go against her wishes and stuff, so he moves his hand down and over her ass until he gets to her thigh, then he grabs it and pulls her lower half into his. She lets out this little purring sound.
"Fuck, Rachel, you're..." He can't finish, 'cause he feels her smiling against his neck where she's kissing him and it's basically the hottest thing ever.
"I'm really enjoying this," she tells him.
Yeah. He got that part.
"Yeah, me too." He hopes she was picking up on that. She nods, so apparently she understands. "But if we don't stop..."
"What?" she asks breathlessly, and moves her thigh so she's brushing against him even more.
He's not even like, dry humping with her and he's about to come in his boxers. Fucking unreal.
"I won't." He pulls away from her so he can look at her (it's still like, pitch black out, but whatever) and hopes she'll realize he's trying to be a good guy and not take advantage of the situation right now.
And he actually pulls her hand away when she tries to move it down his body.
He's not even himself right now. It's fucking weird.
"Noah," she says. She sounds embarrassed, and she really, really shouldn't be.
"Rach, not in the fucking freezing cold in the front of my truck," he tells her. She's breathing all shallow, like she might be trying not to cry. Fuck. "As soon as we get out of here."
She giggles a little and presses her face against his chest. "I am unbelievably attracted to you right now," she says.
He's pretty sure that's Rachel Speak for, "I'm totally wet for you, Puck."
She's making it really fucking difficult to say no.
"You can take off my tights," she whispers, eyes locked with his. "If you'd like."
Make that fucking impossible.
"People don't say no to you a lot, do they?" he asks. His fingers are dipping below the waistband of her tights, though, so whatever. She laughs and shakes her head, sucks in a breath when he moves his hand to her stomach, fingers grazing her hip bone. "I'm not going to fuck you here."
He should be picking better words.
"I don't want you to," she says. He starts pushing down her tights and he asks her what she does want. "Whatever you...Whatever you have to."
And that's Rachel Speak for, "Make me come."
So he does. It doesn't take a whole lot, but she makes the best fucking noises (as if she's even capable of sounding bad) and feels incredible. She grabs his bicep and her fingers dig into his skin, and when she kind of forgets to breathe, he reminds her and that makes her moan for some reason. Her back arches when she lets go, and honestly, she's kind of fucking beautiful.
And when she's got her breathing back to normal and she asks, "Can I?" as her hand slips into his boxers, he realizes she's just generally a really hard girl to say no to.
... ... ...
When the sun comes up she suggests they put their clothes back on. He doesn't really want to, 'cause, you know, clothes, but yeah, if one of those messages went through and say, her dads drive up and she's wearing just her panties and this little tank top that's barely even an article of clothing, he can probably kiss his life goodbye.
When she kisses him after he hands her her tights back, he's thinking he kind of likes his life right now.
It's Santana who pulls up in her dad's four wheel drive SUV. When they meet her outside his truck, she crosses her arms against the cold.
"I'm totally shocked you're both still alive. I thought he would have killed you by now," Santana says, eyeing Rachel like she's dirt or something. Puck's pretty pissed about it, but Rachel speaks before he can.
"It was touch and go for a while."
He looks at her like she's nuts. Santana is good with subtext and that wasn't all that subtle.
"I bet it was," Santana laughs. "Fuck, Puck." She shakes her head and fuck it, he kisses Rachel. He likes her and whatever Santana (or anyone else) has to say about it doesn't change that. "Your text just came through this morning. Dad's calling a tow for you."
"Thanks," he says, holding out his fist. She rolls her eyes as she bumps hers against it.
"Can we go? It's fucking freezing out here," she notes.
Rachel climbs into the front seat of Santana's SUV when he holds the door open for her, and he sits in the back and tries not to be annoyed when Santana starts asking embarrassing questions and laughing at how red Rachel gets.
When they get to Rachel's house, he gets out so he can walk her to the door like some kind of gentleman or something. Santana apparently stopped here this morning and Rachel's dads were like, two seconds away from sending out a search party, so he's thinking they're probably going to lose their minds when they're daughter strolls into the house. He slips his hands into her hair and kisses her, not giving a fuck who is or could be watching, and she grabs onto the front of his coat.
"Come over later?" she asks hopefully, eyes all wide. He's gotta deal with his truck and stuff, but he nods anyway. "I might be cold."
He laughs and kisses her again. "You're fucking cute. You know that?"
She giggles and smiles and hops up on her toes to kiss him quickly. "Call me."
She disappears behind the door to her house and he walks back to Santana's car with his hands in his pockets, and when he climbs in the front seat, she says, "Stop smiling, asshole," while she laughs.
He flips her off and ignores every question she asks about how good Rachel is. None of her fucking business and he's not sharing. He doesn't want to share Rachel with anyone, and he's thinking he doesn't have to.
She's totally his girl now, and he's gonna go over there later and make sure he tells her that. He's thinking she already knows, but it can't hurt to make sure.