Fathers Day: Fic: Puck/Rachel 1/1
This is the fathers day fic I promised. Because (most) dads are amazing creatures, and I adore mine despite the mistakes he's made. And it's fathers day here today, so happy fathers day to my daddy and all the other wonderful dads out there that we're lucky to have. :)
Usually, father’s day is a day he tends to just ignore and pretend isn’t happening and that the blatant hole in his family doesn’t exist, either. Why would you want to remember a day where you’re meant to be grateful and thankful for your father and all he’s done for you, when the best thing he ever did to you was leave you a guitar and leave you behind while he fucked off to lands unknown, staying in one seedy motel after another until even the postcards he used to send and you used to set on fire trailed off into nothing at all.
Seriously, on Father’s day? He’s just fuckin’ grateful the dick he used to have is gone from his life.
But he still ignores any mention of such days. Usually. Until he starts dating Rachel Berry, and she has two of them, and he’s kinda becomin’ part of her fuckin’ family or whatever, ‘cause he spends so much time there.
Whatever. She bakes, like, constantly, so there’s always snacks and her bed is comfy and you can actually find it without crushing shit as you lay her out on it, so it just makes sense to spend time there.
And her dad’s are cool dudes. Legit, if he was gonna have dads, he’d have those guys in a heart beat. They’re happy to sit there and have honest conversations at the dinner table that used to make him really fuckin’ uncomfortable, ‘cause seriously, what guy wants to sit there while his girl talks about having sex with him to her dads and watches them make dirty jokes? But they’re pretty much the most open guys and it makes dinner so much more fun than dinner at Casa de Puckerman where his mom says prayers of thanks for Rachel’s place in his life and for leading him back to the path of goodness, or what the fuck ever. (His mom’s a nutcase, okay?)
But anyway. Rachel’s dads are cool. This is why she should not be buying them lame-o presents like a year’s subscription to House and Garden magazine, ‘cause gay or not, they aren’t really the DIY type. (He’d know. He had to fix the fence they built that kinda… leaned.) She should be buying them something awesome, like… well, he’s not exactly sure, but obviously something way better than a pile of magazines they’ll look at once, contemplate doing something from, and then never actually do.
And he drags her out of the house before she clicks buy on a subscription to a bunch of puzzle magazines, because even though they like doing their crosswords on a Sunday morning, who has time to actually do books and books of them when they aren’t boring and/or retired? Seriously, chick is as crazy as his mom sometimes, and that’s definitely saying something.
He takes her to the mall, drags her away from more kinky knee socks in a variety of colours, ‘cause he doesn’t want to think of all the situations they can be used in while he’s thinkin’ of her dads, because, ew. That’s not a kosher situation. They’ve walked in once, and he was pretty much scarred, legit couldn’t have sex in Rachel’s house for like, three days, and it nearly killed him.
Honestly, dude’s are pretty relaxed and shit, and he thinks they deserve better than stupid magazines on their doorstep once a month. Rachel’s next suggestion is a picture of them all together for both of their desks, but seriously, one look at their house is enough pictures of Rachel Berry for any person, no matter how much they love her.
(He has several of his own on his phone that he’ll never, ever get rid of. He’s kinda legendary.)
So he’s dragging them through the mall lookin’ for something cool and awesome and non-lame, and she’s suggesting seriously stupid things and honestly, the stuff that comes out of her mouth sometimes? He can’t believe his girlfriend is the same person.
But whatever. She puts out, she’s hot, and she cares about him way too fuckin’ much, and he like, loves her, or whatever.
Eventually, Rachel’s going off her nut about how he has no idea what he’s looking for and she needs to just buy them something and he concedes to just letting her pick something that isn’t anything to do with gardening or underwear or whatever, ‘cause, he has enough mental images when he sits at their dining room table of places he’s fucked Rachel in that room alone, and he doesn’t exactly wanna picture Mr and Mr Berry wearing underwear he’s had a hand at helping to pick.
No thanks.
So she picks something semi-non-lame, a book for each of them that they’ll both read and probably enjoy, and he gets to spend a fuckin’ age while she tries to pick a meaningful card and can’t make up her mind and it’s a whole drama and she’s practically pouting and stomping her foot and he’s getting frustrated and thinking his girlfriend can be really, really ridiculous and he’s kinda sorta an idiot for dragging her to a mall.
And then he finds himself fingering cards that say, “To Daddy on Father’s Day” and tries not to think of his beautiful little girl giving a card to some douche with a better bank account and life than he has currently in some big fancy house in the ‘burbs.
He tries not to think about how he misses her every damn day.
He wanders away before he does something fuckin’ idiotic, like, voice his thoughts to Rachel who will want to have some sit down conversation about it like she’s his therapist or whatever. (She’s been goin’ to one so long she forgets sometimes she’s actually not one to everyone else.) He’s not gonna sit anywhere, let alone in a crazy busy shopping mall with all other last minute people who decide to get their dad’s presents on the day of, and hash up his feelings that he wants to carry on pretending he doesn’t have about a little girl who doesn’t know he exists.
He wanders into a CD store, texts Rachel his location so she doesn’t panic when she hauls her midget ass out of the crowds and doesn’t see him, and hunts through their vinyl collection, ‘cause vintage vinyl is bad-ass.
He purchases an Eric Clapton one, ‘cause Rachel’s dad’s think he’s pretty awesome and it’s got Puck’s fave song on it, “Wonderful Tonight,” but if you ever asked him, he’d say “Cocaine” or something equally bad ass. “I shot the Sheriff” is pretty awesome, too.
He’ll never admit to singing Layla or Wonderful Tonight to Rachel or picturing it at their wedding. One day. A million years from now.
He gets the chick to gift wrap it with just a smirk and a tilt of his head, and he knows Rachel’d be pissed at him for it, ‘cause she hates how he uses his looks to get stuff off chicks, especially when it’s gettin’ him out of trouble with her for something stupid he did.
It’s not his fault he’s a hot mofo. No lie.
He steals a pen off the counter and writes a note on the card that is basically just their names and his, and gets the girl who he thinks was trying to discreetly write her number on his receipt to throw it all in a bag as he goes to find his girl.
He’s gone back to not thinkin’ bout the other little girl who was also once his.
Rachel greets him all smiles, trying to peak into the bag, but he’s all “fuck that noise” as he holds it above her head where she won’t get it. There’s pro points to her being like, the size of an oompa loompa but way hotter, for sure.
He holds her hand as they walk to the car and she inanely rambles about the cards she’s purchased and before he can stop himself, and fuck, when did he develop no filter, he says they’re gonna have the best day no matter what her card says, because they have her.
And she looks at him with eyes full of words he doesn’t want her to say, and he knows she knows he’s thinkin’ of Beth and they’re gonna have some lame conversation about feelings, whether he wants to or not.
He just reaches for her hand across the center console, tangles their fingers together, and focuses back on the road.
He gets his avoidance of major issues from his dad, but he’s a bigger man than to walk away completely.
--
That night, they sit at the Berry’s dining room table as her dad’s talk about their day and the things they did (they always have date day on Sunday, which is kinda cool) together and they make jokes about a bruise on Puck’s arm that he swears Rachel gave him but he’s not exactly gonna say how he got it, so he just makes some comment about how for a midget, she punches pretty damn hard, and they laugh, but he knows they know what went down.
Rachel hands over her present all bubbly and enthusiastic, and they talk endlessly for-fucking-ever about books and how long it’s going to take each of them to read their books and how Rachel wants to read them both after. (Great. There goes his girlfriend’s attention span for the next few weeks.) Honestly, for two cool guys and one fuckin’ hot chick, they’re all kinda… nerdy. But he still feels at home at their table, having conversations about normal things, so he’s not gonna get all judgey.
He’ll just sit here and think about the time him and Rachel had sex on this particular table when she was drunk and handsy and he wasn’t exactly gonna say no.
He’s sitting there with a smirk on his face when Rachel throws an envelope at his head. Fuck his life, they all probably know what he’s thinking about, sitting there grinning like a perve.
Whatever.
It’s not like it’s the first time she’s thrown something at him. He just prefers it when it’s her panties.
But anyway. He dutifully hands over his present to them as Rachel excuses herself and him from dinner, and makes some awkward comment like, “Um, ya know, thanks.” And then lets Rachel lead him outside onto their porch where they sit on the porch swing and she hands him an envelope as her parents do dishes inside and get ready for the DVD they’re all about to watch.
“What’s this?” He asks, looking at her curiously.
She shrugs in a modest way that is not Rachel Berry, and just tells him to open it.
He pulls out a card from the envelope, and out falls a CD and a card. His hands shake a little as he flips the card over to see the front.
“You know, you’re pretty hot for being someone’s daddy.” It reads, and he smirks, ‘cause, fuck yeah he is.
“Noah, I know you want to pretend that today is just another day, but you are some little girl’s daddy, and one day she is going to know you and love you and be a part of your life. And one day you’ll have children that you can give everything to, and they’ll be gorgeous and Jewish and perfect and musically gifted. I just didn’t want today to go past without acknowledging that you will be an amazing daddy one day, no doubt a hot one, too.” She’s holding his hand, looking a million kinds of nervous, and then she leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek.
He likes knowing that even though she hasn’t said it out loud, she’s been describing kids she wants to have with him one day.
“Thanks, B.” He says, because while he wants to pretend those days last year didn’t really happen, they did, and it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who thinks about them all the time.
“I love you.” She says, and he hugs her tightly to his side, because he doesn’t want to let go.
“I am a pretty hot dad, huh.” He says, and she laughs and shoves him.
“It’s okay, B, ‘cause one day, you’re gonna be one hot MILF.”
“Haven’t you had enough of MILFS, Noah?” She asks with an eye roll.
“Oh baby, I could never get enough of you.” He says with a wink and she laughs.
She has to keep that in mind when she finds the receipt with the music store chicks number on it in his pocket later.
Usually, father’s day is a day he tends to just ignore and pretend isn’t happening and that the blatant hole in his family doesn’t exist, either. Why would you want to remember a day where you’re meant to be grateful and thankful for your father and all he’s done for you, when the best thing he ever did to you was leave you a guitar and leave you behind while he fucked off to lands unknown, staying in one seedy motel after another until even the postcards he used to send and you used to set on fire trailed off into nothing at all.
Seriously, on Father’s day? He’s just fuckin’ grateful the dick he used to have is gone from his life.
But he still ignores any mention of such days. Usually. Until he starts dating Rachel Berry, and she has two of them, and he’s kinda becomin’ part of her fuckin’ family or whatever, ‘cause he spends so much time there.
Whatever. She bakes, like, constantly, so there’s always snacks and her bed is comfy and you can actually find it without crushing shit as you lay her out on it, so it just makes sense to spend time there.
And her dad’s are cool dudes. Legit, if he was gonna have dads, he’d have those guys in a heart beat. They’re happy to sit there and have honest conversations at the dinner table that used to make him really fuckin’ uncomfortable, ‘cause seriously, what guy wants to sit there while his girl talks about having sex with him to her dads and watches them make dirty jokes? But they’re pretty much the most open guys and it makes dinner so much more fun than dinner at Casa de Puckerman where his mom says prayers of thanks for Rachel’s place in his life and for leading him back to the path of goodness, or what the fuck ever. (His mom’s a nutcase, okay?)
But anyway. Rachel’s dads are cool. This is why she should not be buying them lame-o presents like a year’s subscription to House and Garden magazine, ‘cause gay or not, they aren’t really the DIY type. (He’d know. He had to fix the fence they built that kinda… leaned.) She should be buying them something awesome, like… well, he’s not exactly sure, but obviously something way better than a pile of magazines they’ll look at once, contemplate doing something from, and then never actually do.
And he drags her out of the house before she clicks buy on a subscription to a bunch of puzzle magazines, because even though they like doing their crosswords on a Sunday morning, who has time to actually do books and books of them when they aren’t boring and/or retired? Seriously, chick is as crazy as his mom sometimes, and that’s definitely saying something.
He takes her to the mall, drags her away from more kinky knee socks in a variety of colours, ‘cause he doesn’t want to think of all the situations they can be used in while he’s thinkin’ of her dads, because, ew. That’s not a kosher situation. They’ve walked in once, and he was pretty much scarred, legit couldn’t have sex in Rachel’s house for like, three days, and it nearly killed him.
Honestly, dude’s are pretty relaxed and shit, and he thinks they deserve better than stupid magazines on their doorstep once a month. Rachel’s next suggestion is a picture of them all together for both of their desks, but seriously, one look at their house is enough pictures of Rachel Berry for any person, no matter how much they love her.
(He has several of his own on his phone that he’ll never, ever get rid of. He’s kinda legendary.)
So he’s dragging them through the mall lookin’ for something cool and awesome and non-lame, and she’s suggesting seriously stupid things and honestly, the stuff that comes out of her mouth sometimes? He can’t believe his girlfriend is the same person.
But whatever. She puts out, she’s hot, and she cares about him way too fuckin’ much, and he like, loves her, or whatever.
Eventually, Rachel’s going off her nut about how he has no idea what he’s looking for and she needs to just buy them something and he concedes to just letting her pick something that isn’t anything to do with gardening or underwear or whatever, ‘cause, he has enough mental images when he sits at their dining room table of places he’s fucked Rachel in that room alone, and he doesn’t exactly wanna picture Mr and Mr Berry wearing underwear he’s had a hand at helping to pick.
No thanks.
So she picks something semi-non-lame, a book for each of them that they’ll both read and probably enjoy, and he gets to spend a fuckin’ age while she tries to pick a meaningful card and can’t make up her mind and it’s a whole drama and she’s practically pouting and stomping her foot and he’s getting frustrated and thinking his girlfriend can be really, really ridiculous and he’s kinda sorta an idiot for dragging her to a mall.
And then he finds himself fingering cards that say, “To Daddy on Father’s Day” and tries not to think of his beautiful little girl giving a card to some douche with a better bank account and life than he has currently in some big fancy house in the ‘burbs.
He tries not to think about how he misses her every damn day.
He wanders away before he does something fuckin’ idiotic, like, voice his thoughts to Rachel who will want to have some sit down conversation about it like she’s his therapist or whatever. (She’s been goin’ to one so long she forgets sometimes she’s actually not one to everyone else.) He’s not gonna sit anywhere, let alone in a crazy busy shopping mall with all other last minute people who decide to get their dad’s presents on the day of, and hash up his feelings that he wants to carry on pretending he doesn’t have about a little girl who doesn’t know he exists.
He wanders into a CD store, texts Rachel his location so she doesn’t panic when she hauls her midget ass out of the crowds and doesn’t see him, and hunts through their vinyl collection, ‘cause vintage vinyl is bad-ass.
He purchases an Eric Clapton one, ‘cause Rachel’s dad’s think he’s pretty awesome and it’s got Puck’s fave song on it, “Wonderful Tonight,” but if you ever asked him, he’d say “Cocaine” or something equally bad ass. “I shot the Sheriff” is pretty awesome, too.
He’ll never admit to singing Layla or Wonderful Tonight to Rachel or picturing it at their wedding. One day. A million years from now.
He gets the chick to gift wrap it with just a smirk and a tilt of his head, and he knows Rachel’d be pissed at him for it, ‘cause she hates how he uses his looks to get stuff off chicks, especially when it’s gettin’ him out of trouble with her for something stupid he did.
It’s not his fault he’s a hot mofo. No lie.
He steals a pen off the counter and writes a note on the card that is basically just their names and his, and gets the girl who he thinks was trying to discreetly write her number on his receipt to throw it all in a bag as he goes to find his girl.
He’s gone back to not thinkin’ bout the other little girl who was also once his.
Rachel greets him all smiles, trying to peak into the bag, but he’s all “fuck that noise” as he holds it above her head where she won’t get it. There’s pro points to her being like, the size of an oompa loompa but way hotter, for sure.
He holds her hand as they walk to the car and she inanely rambles about the cards she’s purchased and before he can stop himself, and fuck, when did he develop no filter, he says they’re gonna have the best day no matter what her card says, because they have her.
And she looks at him with eyes full of words he doesn’t want her to say, and he knows she knows he’s thinkin’ of Beth and they’re gonna have some lame conversation about feelings, whether he wants to or not.
He just reaches for her hand across the center console, tangles their fingers together, and focuses back on the road.
He gets his avoidance of major issues from his dad, but he’s a bigger man than to walk away completely.
--
That night, they sit at the Berry’s dining room table as her dad’s talk about their day and the things they did (they always have date day on Sunday, which is kinda cool) together and they make jokes about a bruise on Puck’s arm that he swears Rachel gave him but he’s not exactly gonna say how he got it, so he just makes some comment about how for a midget, she punches pretty damn hard, and they laugh, but he knows they know what went down.
Rachel hands over her present all bubbly and enthusiastic, and they talk endlessly for-fucking-ever about books and how long it’s going to take each of them to read their books and how Rachel wants to read them both after. (Great. There goes his girlfriend’s attention span for the next few weeks.) Honestly, for two cool guys and one fuckin’ hot chick, they’re all kinda… nerdy. But he still feels at home at their table, having conversations about normal things, so he’s not gonna get all judgey.
He’ll just sit here and think about the time him and Rachel had sex on this particular table when she was drunk and handsy and he wasn’t exactly gonna say no.
He’s sitting there with a smirk on his face when Rachel throws an envelope at his head. Fuck his life, they all probably know what he’s thinking about, sitting there grinning like a perve.
Whatever.
It’s not like it’s the first time she’s thrown something at him. He just prefers it when it’s her panties.
But anyway. He dutifully hands over his present to them as Rachel excuses herself and him from dinner, and makes some awkward comment like, “Um, ya know, thanks.” And then lets Rachel lead him outside onto their porch where they sit on the porch swing and she hands him an envelope as her parents do dishes inside and get ready for the DVD they’re all about to watch.
“What’s this?” He asks, looking at her curiously.
She shrugs in a modest way that is not Rachel Berry, and just tells him to open it.
He pulls out a card from the envelope, and out falls a CD and a card. His hands shake a little as he flips the card over to see the front.
“You know, you’re pretty hot for being someone’s daddy.” It reads, and he smirks, ‘cause, fuck yeah he is.
“Noah, I know you want to pretend that today is just another day, but you are some little girl’s daddy, and one day she is going to know you and love you and be a part of your life. And one day you’ll have children that you can give everything to, and they’ll be gorgeous and Jewish and perfect and musically gifted. I just didn’t want today to go past without acknowledging that you will be an amazing daddy one day, no doubt a hot one, too.” She’s holding his hand, looking a million kinds of nervous, and then she leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek.
He likes knowing that even though she hasn’t said it out loud, she’s been describing kids she wants to have with him one day.
“Thanks, B.” He says, because while he wants to pretend those days last year didn’t really happen, they did, and it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who thinks about them all the time.
“I love you.” She says, and he hugs her tightly to his side, because he doesn’t want to let go.
“I am a pretty hot dad, huh.” He says, and she laughs and shoves him.
“It’s okay, B, ‘cause one day, you’re gonna be one hot MILF.”
“Haven’t you had enough of MILFS, Noah?” She asks with an eye roll.
“Oh baby, I could never get enough of you.” He says with a wink and she laughs.
She has to keep that in mind when she finds the receipt with the music store chicks number on it in his pocket later.