fic: falling is like this (puck/tina, pg-13)
Title: Falling Is Like This
Pairing: Puck/Tina
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: ~4000
Summary: He doesn't understand why he keeps falling for his friends' girlfriends.
Spoilers: Up to 2x06
A/N: Written for masaysimacatch for the glee_rare_pairs exchange. Title taken from this song.
*
Puck's halfway done putting his pool cleaning stuff away for the day when his left buttcheek starts vibrating.
He waits until the buzzing stops - one of his mottos has always been "learn to appreciate the small joys in life" and his phone gives a wicked butt massage - before wiping his hands on the front of his jeans and fishing it out of his back pocket.
Mike Chang.
Again.
Summer's almost over and the truth is, texts and the odd short call from Mike are basically all the social interaction he's gotten ever since school left out. Things with Finn are still awkward as hell (and he's pretty sure it was him and Rachel that he saw sucking face at the local pool once so he figures dude's got his hands full anyway), Mike's busy with his camp counselor job, and that asshole Rutherford didn't even have the decency to throw a going away party before he moved.
He has to wonder who in the universe did he piss off so majorly that caused him to end up with those total losers as friends.
In any case, being free of distractions has actually turned out to be a good thing. Instead of moping around and doing nothing, he's spent most of his free time cleaning pools. Literally cleaning pools, too. Most of the cougars are wary of even getting close to his junk now, probably afraid his super baby-making skills are going to magically stick one in their ovens or something.
Whatever. Their loss.
And hey, who knew that focusing on doing a good job would be better for business than being great in the sack? Not to mention the side benefits. He's got an awesome tan and he's freaking ripped. The only thing left to do now is wait until people find someone else to gossip about. He gives it a couple of months, tops.
Turning his attention back to his phone, he squints at the screen. Looks like Mike has finally managed to score with some Tina chick he's been mentioning lately. Puck punches in a quick reply (dude wtf stop typing w ur dick. that wasnt even in english) and goes back to fixing the loose screw on the handle of his algae brush, making a mental note to give Mike a call later and grill him for all the dirty details he can get.
Sure, he might be a full time business man now, but there's no way he's gonna pass on the opportunity to fantasize about some possibly hot girl he's never even met.
Noah Puckerman takes his life mottos very seriously.
*
The first time he swings by Mike's after he's back from summer camp, the front door opens and Puck finds himself face to face with a slightly familiar-looking girl who doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry to let him in.
He bounces lightly on the balls of his feet. "Is Mike home?"
The girl nods.
"So, uh. Nice to meet you," he tries.
"Seriously? You're an idiot."
Puck's trying to figure out whether he's more offended or turned on, but the sound of footsteps bounding down the stairs distracts him. The girl turns to look over her shoulder, and Puck catches a glimpse of the ends of her hair.
The blue ends of her hair.
Now he knows why she looked familiar (and pissed). She's the goth chick from glee club.
Turns out the goth chick from glee club looks really nice in shorts.
Next thing he knows, Mike's right there next to them, saving Puck from having to do something lame like maybe trying to apologize. That's never been his thing.
"Hey bro," Mike smiles, punching Puck's shoulder. "Ready to get your ass kicked?" He does one of his weird-ass dancey moves and goes back inside, not waiting for a reply.
Puck kicks the toe of his sneaker against the front of the doorstep. "It's just, you look different without all your..." he points vaguely in her direction, "...you know, black. Black sh-stuff."
"It's summer," she says, and he can hear the implied duh on her voice. Yeah, it's obvious that she thinks he's an asshole.
Whatever. As if he cares about what this girl thinks of him.
She finally steps aside with a roll of her eyes, and Puck makes a beeline for the safety of the air-conditioned living-room, trying not to make eye contact as he goes. Just in case.
Mike's standing next to the TV, tangled in a mess of cables. "Hot out there, huh?" he asks, not looking up.
"Yeah, man. I'm parched."
"My mom just came back from the store, so the fridge is stocked." Mike jerks his chin towards the kitchen. "Go ahead and grab us some drinks while I finish here."
But before Puck can even turn around, Tina speaks up from behind him. "I'll go."
Mike freezes, staring at Puck with wide eyes. Puck looks over his shoulder only to find that Tina's actually smiling, so he shrugs and plops down on the sofa, thinking that he could get used to her being around after all.
Five minutes later, he's bent over Mike's bathroom sink, clutching the porcelain for dear life. His mouth feels like it's on fire.
"Dude, I'm telling you," he manages to spit out around a mouthful of toothpaste, "that chick's evil."
"I don't know. She says you deserved it," Mike says, sounding like he's trying hard not to laugh. Traitor.
"I'm just saying, we could have talked. She didn't have to go full-on crazy and put freaking tabasco sauce in my drink." He almost shouts the last part, exhaling through his nose and reaching for the mouthwash when all he hears in return is the muffled sound of (evil) cackling.
*
Weirdly enough, things get better after that. Puck's tongue stays numb for an entire day, but even though Tina never apologizes and it takes two weeks before he can bring himself to eat or drink out of any open containers while she's around, part of him understands why she got angry. What she did after was her - ridiculously over the top, seriously, what the hell was she thinking - way of getting even, and that's something he can grudgingly respect.
Almost without realizing it, the three of them end up falling into a routine. It's not like they spend all their free time together or anything - Mike and Tina are in that phase of their relationship where all they do is make moony eyes at each other and frankly, there's a limit to the amount of sappy crap Puck can tolerate on a daily basis - but it works. They watch trashy TV and eat greasy food and play videogames for hours. Puck even lets Tina beat him at Mario Kart sometimes.
And if letting her beat him turns into trying his hardest not to be left in the dust once she's had a few days of practice, well. No one has to find out.
*
For a while, things go pretty well. McKinley's nerds haven't touched the bottom of a dumpster for longer than he can remember, he hasn't skipped math in a whole month, and he's already starting to catch girls throwing him glances in the hallways when they think he's not looking. Life is good.
Then, out of freaking nowhere, everything goes to hell.
Puck has a feeling he's never gonna live this one down. Okay, so he screwed up, probably worse than ever before. He knows that. But he's sick of everybody thinking they know him better than himself. Sick of everybody looking at him like he's their damn pet project.
As if all of that wasn't enough, now his car won't start, which leaves him basically stranded at the very last place he wants to be right now. It'd be funny if it didn't make him feel like punching something.
He leans against the side of the car and takes a few deep breaths, wrinkling his nose at the faint smell of smoke that's still coming from under the hood. He's no car expert, but something tells him his summer savings are about to take a pretty hard blow.
The whole thing is like a big ball of irony wrapped in karma with a metaphor on top. If he were smarter (no, nerdier, he absently corrects), right now he'd probably be waxing poetic about things that only look scratched on the surface but are actually all sorts of messed up inside.
Good thing he was always too busy trying to look up Santana Lopez's skirt to pay any attention in English class.
Hearing the sound of another car getting close, Puck closes his eyes and keeps his chin down, hoping to pass unnoticed. Of course, as soon as that thought crosses his mind, the car slows to a stop.
After a few seconds have passed with no sound other than the quiet rumble of the engine, his curiosity gets the better of him. He puts on his most menacing scowl and opens one eye, squinting even though the sky has been overcast all day. (It almost feels like he's half invisible when he does that. If only.) When he finds Tina peering curiously at him from behind the wheel, his body sags in relief, slipping a little down the side of his car. Sure, he'd still rather have been left alone, but at least it's not Mr. Schue again. Luck hasn't really been on his side lately; at this point, he'll take anything he can get.
"What are you doing here?"
He shrugs, running a hand over his mohawk. "Car trouble."
"Oh." She avoids his eyes, reminding him that she knows exactly what happened to his car. Puck really hates Lima sometimes. "Well, do you need a ride?"
He wants to say no, that's cool, thanks but no thanks. It's not like he doesn't like her (she's actually surprisingly cool for a chick); he's just not in the mood for people. But then it starts raining, and the decision is pretty much made for him.
The ride is mostly silent, which is nice. Still, Puck can't help feeling restless, so when a song he thinks he recognizes starts on the stereo, he automatically reaches for the volume. "I like this s-"
"We missed you," Tina blurts out. Out of the corner of his eye, Puck can see her knuckles are white from how hard she's gripping the steering wheel, and her neck is all tense as she forces her eyes to stay on the road ahead of her.
He closes his eyes and sighs, not saying anything because he has no clue how he's supposed to reply to something like that without sounding like a pathetic dumbass. (Things were so much easier back when Finn was his best friend; they could have entire conversations composed of nothing but grunts. They did, often.) He coughs a little instead, trying to get rid of the weird feeling in his throat. Swallowing that last poptart in one bite was probably not his brightest idea.
As soon as he feels the car slowing down, he reaches for the door handle, hoping to make a clean getaway. The unexpected feel of Tina's warm hand curving over his wrist stops him.
"Was it scary in there?" she asks. "I didn't buy what you said about owning the place, so don't even try. You're a horrible liar."
Puck appreciates what she's trying to do, but he honestly can't deal with anybody else trying to psychoanalyze him today. He's exhausted.
"Oh, it was terrifying," he nods gravely. Then, after a beat, "So much spicy food."
It's pretty damn hilarious, the way her face gets all scrunched up as she does her best to look angry instead of amused. Sort of makes him want to try and see what else he could say to make her laugh.
And okay, he has to admit that hanging out with her trumps being left alone to lick at his wounds. She seems to understand, too, because instead of leaving, she throws the car into park and silently follows him inside the house.
This is new. Hanging out by themselves, that is. At first, Puck's worried it's going to be awkward, but Tina simply follows him into the kitchen - that's always his first stop when he gets home, no exceptions - and sits down at the table. A moment later, she has her books out and is quietly doing her homework.
Puck was going to suggest watching a movie or something, but that's just as well. He's still feeling kind of restless though, so he busies himself putting together some sandwiches instead of sitting next to her. (Only to keep her company. He hasn't done his homework since sophomore year and he has no intention of starting any time soon.)
"Here," he says a couple of minutes later, setting a tray on the table with an exaggerated flourish. The sandwiches look a little lopsided and he couldn't find any mayo so they're probably on the dry side, but it doesn't matter because when Tina looks up from her book, her eyes get all wide and surprised before she shakes her head and looks back down.
"Thanks," she says, her voice laced with something Puck can't place. He tries really hard to ignore the sudden twisting in his gut, but then she smiles at him and he has to look away.
*
This can't be happening to him again. He's such an asshole. He's an asshole and there's no way he's doing that to another one of his bros. He's gonna do whatever it takes to get over it as quickly as possible.
*
Okay, so maybe going to Sam for advice on the fastest way to get a killer six-pack isn't exactly the definition of 'getting over it'.
The problem is, he's not completely sure he wants to get over it.
*
When Puck walks into the choir room a couple of weeks later, he immediately senses that something isn't right. Scanning the risers for anything out of the ordinary, he sees Tina is sitting next to Mercedes, who has her body turned protectively in her direction, and Mike's all the way on the other side of the room.
He's unable to focus on a single word Schuester says in the entire hour of rehearsal.
From a logical angle, he knows he hasn't done anything wrong. He's actually tried to distance himself from the other two ever since he had his big revelation. Hell, he hasn't even looked for an excuse to show off his abs yet. Still, he can't help feeling somehow guilty about it, even if it doesn't make any sense.
He's so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn't realize everybody's already left until he feels eyes on him and looks up, finding the piano guy staring at him from his bench. Muttering a hurried apology, Puck dashes out of the room, making his way through the deserted hallways. Well, almost deserted. He turns the last corner and spots Rachel closing her locker and heading towards the exit. He shrugs to himself. She'll have to do.
"Hey Rachel, wait up," he calls out, jogging to catch up to her. "I wanna talk to you."
Rachel regards him curiously, falling into step beside him. "Is this about the set music I e-mailed you?"
"The what?"
"Because I remember explicitly asking you to please reply with any comments and-slash-or suggestions of your own. But I supp-"
"Rachel," Puck cuts her off. "I haven't looked at your e-mails. I didn't even know you had my e-mail address. I will look at them," he adds quickly (damn her and her pouty looks), "but I wanted to talk about Mike and Tina."
"Okay," Rachel says, drawing the word out. "I assume you've heard about them then."
Puck nods. "Yeah, you could say that. You too?"
"Oh yes, definitely. We had our mandatory post-breakup session today."
"Your what?" Puck repeats. Talking to Rachel can be such a trip sometimes.
"Maybe someone should be reading his e-mails," Rachel says pointedly. "One of my duties as team captain is to make sure that the atmosphere of the club remains as peaceful and work-focused as possible at all times. Due to the, let's say astoundingly high levels of feelings and... hormones on display, I thought it wise to appoint myself as a mediator of sorts. Every time a couple breaks up, I hold a meeting with them and help them understand the importance of maintaining a cheerful and optimistic attitude in the face of heartbreak."
Puck can't do anything but gape at her, wondering if she's ever stopped to think about who the primary source of drama in that club is.
"Anyway," she continues, undeterred, "today's meeting was indeed a resounding success. It was actually the first time everybody stayed in the room for longer than a minute." She pauses, lowering her voice as if she's sharing the world's biggest secret. "Quinn and Santana aren't the most cooperative of people."
"Yeah, I can imagine," Puck says, deciding that it's better to humor her at this point. "So listen. These meetings, are they confidential?"
Rachel frowns. "Well, I haven't really thought about it, but I guess-" she abruptly shuts up, a suspicious look on her face. "What's this all about, Noah?"
"What's this ab-nothing," he protests. "They're my friends and I'm worried about them, that's all."
She still looks suspicious.
"I'm just so glad you were there for them, Rachel." He touches his hand to his chest lightly, watching her face soften. "You're such an inspiration to all of us."
Okay, too much. Now she seems even more suspicious.
"You're mocking me," she says, crossing her arms.
Puck sighs. "Look, Rachel. We both how bad I am at this whole feelings crap. I just want to know what happened." He puts one hand on her forearm, waiting until she looks up at him. "Please."
That finally seems to get through to her, because she turns around and hops on to sit on the hood of her car, facing him. "There's not much to tell, to be honest. They both assured me that their breakup was one-hundred percent on mutual and amicable terms. They were understandably sad, but both agreed that their relationship had simply run its natural course."
"And I'm sure they used those words too," Puck teases.
"Shut it, Puckerman," she mumbles, cuffing him on the back of the head.
He's so relieved by the news that he actually accepts Rachel's offer for a ride home, not even complaining when she insists on an impromptu sing-along session of assorted diva classics.
When they get to his house, he refuses to get off the car until he's made Rachel swear on her voice to take what happened on the last twenty minutes to her grave. She tries to make him agree to go to her house twice a week to sing duets with her in exchange for keeping his secret, but he's not that dumb. Using his awesome business skills, he ends up getting her to settle for once a week sessions. He can spot a good deal when he sees it.
*
Once he has separate confirmation from both Mike and Tina that what Rachel said was true and his conscience is free of misplaced guilt, he sets his plan into motion.
It turns out to be easier than he thought; Tina actually loves spending time with him. He suspects it's because he lets her laugh at him all she wants without getting angry. Like the time they're watching a marathon of her favorite horror movies and she finds out that really terrifying scenes make him tear up. Or the time she coaxes him into giving him a goth makeover.
("Get that crap away from my eye or I swear-"
"Oh come on, stop being such a baby. It's called guyliner and it's totally in right now."
"Wait, really?"
"Of course. Johnny Depp wears it all the time."
She's right. He almost doesn't want to get it off, that's how hot it makes him look. The tight pants, on the other hand? Also hot, but so not worth walking bowlegged for two days afterwards.)
*
"I still think it's bullshit," Puck says, for what feels like the millionth time.
Tina chuckles.
"No, seriously. Rachel and Mercedes and all those other girls? They get solos because they speak up and fight for them. I'm just saying, you're good too."
Tina sighs. "I don't need Mr. Schue's validation to know I'm talented, Puck. I believe in myself." She leans over the table, stealing a french fry from his basket. "Besides, I know performing is like, Rachel's entire reason for living, but I'm not like her. If I focused all of my energy on that, I wouldn't have time to spend on so much other stuff that I also love."
Puck reaches for his soda, looking around the diner at the rest of the patrons. It's the first time they've done anything other than hanging out at either of their houses, and he's having a hard time reminding himself that it's not a date and there's no way he's getting lucky any time soon or anything. They were bored and didn't feel like getting takeout. That's all.
"Okay, fine, that makes sense," he concedes. "But whatever, I still think it's messed up."
Tina shrugs. "You get used to it, though."
And just like that, Puck knows exactly what he's going to do.
"But whenever you get to be the... main singer or whatever it's called," he starts, trying not to sound conspicuous, "you like it, right?"
"Of course I do."
"Right." Puck gulps down what's left of his soda, reaches inside his wallet for a few bills and throws them on the table. "Perfect."
Tina narrows her eyes. "Wait. Perfect what?"
Puck grabs her hand - another first - and drags her towards the exit.
"Puck, where are we going?"
He doesn't stop, not until they're right next to the bowling alley, the words KAR OKE NIG T blinking down at them. Awesome. He won't even need to bribe anybody.
Tina frowns, but a few moments later her face lits up with realization. She looks back at him, shaking her head. "You can be really unpredictable sometimes, you know?"
"Oh baby," he says, reaching for her hand again and ignoring the way she rolls her eyes at the word, "you have no idea."
*
She kisses him later that night, trapping him against the side of her car in the middle of the dark parking lot. He's so stunned he doesn't even try to go for second base, his hands hovering uselessly right next to her shoulders.
"That was awesome," she pants, coming up for air.
"Totally." He's not sure what she's talking about, but hey, she's kissing him again, so he's not too worried about it.
"All right, let's go."
"Where?" Puck asks with a knowing smirk. Finally.
"What do you mean where? You need to help me rehearse. From now on, if they want to take a solo from me, they're only doing it over my dead body."
*
In the end, they don't actually get to rehearse anything. All it takes is for Puck to casually hold on to his bedroom doorframe, making sure his shirt rides up the way he's practiced a hundred times before. As soon as Tina turns around and sees him, her eyes glaze over and she mutters a quick thanks before jumping him.
Sure, it might not be the stuff fairytales are made of, but he's pretty sure the princess never showed up at the prince's door dressed like a catholic schoolgirl in any of those movies. So as far as Puck's concerned, they can keep the fairytales. He'll take the real thing any day.
Pairing: Puck/Tina
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: ~4000
Summary: He doesn't understand why he keeps falling for his friends' girlfriends.
Spoilers: Up to 2x06
A/N: Written for masaysimacatch for the glee_rare_pairs exchange. Title taken from this song.
*
Puck's halfway done putting his pool cleaning stuff away for the day when his left buttcheek starts vibrating.
He waits until the buzzing stops - one of his mottos has always been "learn to appreciate the small joys in life" and his phone gives a wicked butt massage - before wiping his hands on the front of his jeans and fishing it out of his back pocket.
Mike Chang.
Again.
Summer's almost over and the truth is, texts and the odd short call from Mike are basically all the social interaction he's gotten ever since school left out. Things with Finn are still awkward as hell (and he's pretty sure it was him and Rachel that he saw sucking face at the local pool once so he figures dude's got his hands full anyway), Mike's busy with his camp counselor job, and that asshole Rutherford didn't even have the decency to throw a going away party before he moved.
He has to wonder who in the universe did he piss off so majorly that caused him to end up with those total losers as friends.
In any case, being free of distractions has actually turned out to be a good thing. Instead of moping around and doing nothing, he's spent most of his free time cleaning pools. Literally cleaning pools, too. Most of the cougars are wary of even getting close to his junk now, probably afraid his super baby-making skills are going to magically stick one in their ovens or something.
Whatever. Their loss.
And hey, who knew that focusing on doing a good job would be better for business than being great in the sack? Not to mention the side benefits. He's got an awesome tan and he's freaking ripped. The only thing left to do now is wait until people find someone else to gossip about. He gives it a couple of months, tops.
Turning his attention back to his phone, he squints at the screen. Looks like Mike has finally managed to score with some Tina chick he's been mentioning lately. Puck punches in a quick reply (dude wtf stop typing w ur dick. that wasnt even in english) and goes back to fixing the loose screw on the handle of his algae brush, making a mental note to give Mike a call later and grill him for all the dirty details he can get.
Sure, he might be a full time business man now, but there's no way he's gonna pass on the opportunity to fantasize about some possibly hot girl he's never even met.
Noah Puckerman takes his life mottos very seriously.
*
The first time he swings by Mike's after he's back from summer camp, the front door opens and Puck finds himself face to face with a slightly familiar-looking girl who doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry to let him in.
He bounces lightly on the balls of his feet. "Is Mike home?"
The girl nods.
"So, uh. Nice to meet you," he tries.
"Seriously? You're an idiot."
Puck's trying to figure out whether he's more offended or turned on, but the sound of footsteps bounding down the stairs distracts him. The girl turns to look over her shoulder, and Puck catches a glimpse of the ends of her hair.
The blue ends of her hair.
Now he knows why she looked familiar (and pissed). She's the goth chick from glee club.
Turns out the goth chick from glee club looks really nice in shorts.
Next thing he knows, Mike's right there next to them, saving Puck from having to do something lame like maybe trying to apologize. That's never been his thing.
"Hey bro," Mike smiles, punching Puck's shoulder. "Ready to get your ass kicked?" He does one of his weird-ass dancey moves and goes back inside, not waiting for a reply.
Puck kicks the toe of his sneaker against the front of the doorstep. "It's just, you look different without all your..." he points vaguely in her direction, "...you know, black. Black sh-stuff."
"It's summer," she says, and he can hear the implied duh on her voice. Yeah, it's obvious that she thinks he's an asshole.
Whatever. As if he cares about what this girl thinks of him.
She finally steps aside with a roll of her eyes, and Puck makes a beeline for the safety of the air-conditioned living-room, trying not to make eye contact as he goes. Just in case.
Mike's standing next to the TV, tangled in a mess of cables. "Hot out there, huh?" he asks, not looking up.
"Yeah, man. I'm parched."
"My mom just came back from the store, so the fridge is stocked." Mike jerks his chin towards the kitchen. "Go ahead and grab us some drinks while I finish here."
But before Puck can even turn around, Tina speaks up from behind him. "I'll go."
Mike freezes, staring at Puck with wide eyes. Puck looks over his shoulder only to find that Tina's actually smiling, so he shrugs and plops down on the sofa, thinking that he could get used to her being around after all.
Five minutes later, he's bent over Mike's bathroom sink, clutching the porcelain for dear life. His mouth feels like it's on fire.
"Dude, I'm telling you," he manages to spit out around a mouthful of toothpaste, "that chick's evil."
"I don't know. She says you deserved it," Mike says, sounding like he's trying hard not to laugh. Traitor.
"I'm just saying, we could have talked. She didn't have to go full-on crazy and put freaking tabasco sauce in my drink." He almost shouts the last part, exhaling through his nose and reaching for the mouthwash when all he hears in return is the muffled sound of (evil) cackling.
*
Weirdly enough, things get better after that. Puck's tongue stays numb for an entire day, but even though Tina never apologizes and it takes two weeks before he can bring himself to eat or drink out of any open containers while she's around, part of him understands why she got angry. What she did after was her - ridiculously over the top, seriously, what the hell was she thinking - way of getting even, and that's something he can grudgingly respect.
Almost without realizing it, the three of them end up falling into a routine. It's not like they spend all their free time together or anything - Mike and Tina are in that phase of their relationship where all they do is make moony eyes at each other and frankly, there's a limit to the amount of sappy crap Puck can tolerate on a daily basis - but it works. They watch trashy TV and eat greasy food and play videogames for hours. Puck even lets Tina beat him at Mario Kart sometimes.
And if letting her beat him turns into trying his hardest not to be left in the dust once she's had a few days of practice, well. No one has to find out.
*
For a while, things go pretty well. McKinley's nerds haven't touched the bottom of a dumpster for longer than he can remember, he hasn't skipped math in a whole month, and he's already starting to catch girls throwing him glances in the hallways when they think he's not looking. Life is good.
Then, out of freaking nowhere, everything goes to hell.
Puck has a feeling he's never gonna live this one down. Okay, so he screwed up, probably worse than ever before. He knows that. But he's sick of everybody thinking they know him better than himself. Sick of everybody looking at him like he's their damn pet project.
As if all of that wasn't enough, now his car won't start, which leaves him basically stranded at the very last place he wants to be right now. It'd be funny if it didn't make him feel like punching something.
He leans against the side of the car and takes a few deep breaths, wrinkling his nose at the faint smell of smoke that's still coming from under the hood. He's no car expert, but something tells him his summer savings are about to take a pretty hard blow.
The whole thing is like a big ball of irony wrapped in karma with a metaphor on top. If he were smarter (no, nerdier, he absently corrects), right now he'd probably be waxing poetic about things that only look scratched on the surface but are actually all sorts of messed up inside.
Good thing he was always too busy trying to look up Santana Lopez's skirt to pay any attention in English class.
Hearing the sound of another car getting close, Puck closes his eyes and keeps his chin down, hoping to pass unnoticed. Of course, as soon as that thought crosses his mind, the car slows to a stop.
After a few seconds have passed with no sound other than the quiet rumble of the engine, his curiosity gets the better of him. He puts on his most menacing scowl and opens one eye, squinting even though the sky has been overcast all day. (It almost feels like he's half invisible when he does that. If only.) When he finds Tina peering curiously at him from behind the wheel, his body sags in relief, slipping a little down the side of his car. Sure, he'd still rather have been left alone, but at least it's not Mr. Schue again. Luck hasn't really been on his side lately; at this point, he'll take anything he can get.
"What are you doing here?"
He shrugs, running a hand over his mohawk. "Car trouble."
"Oh." She avoids his eyes, reminding him that she knows exactly what happened to his car. Puck really hates Lima sometimes. "Well, do you need a ride?"
He wants to say no, that's cool, thanks but no thanks. It's not like he doesn't like her (she's actually surprisingly cool for a chick); he's just not in the mood for people. But then it starts raining, and the decision is pretty much made for him.
The ride is mostly silent, which is nice. Still, Puck can't help feeling restless, so when a song he thinks he recognizes starts on the stereo, he automatically reaches for the volume. "I like this s-"
"We missed you," Tina blurts out. Out of the corner of his eye, Puck can see her knuckles are white from how hard she's gripping the steering wheel, and her neck is all tense as she forces her eyes to stay on the road ahead of her.
He closes his eyes and sighs, not saying anything because he has no clue how he's supposed to reply to something like that without sounding like a pathetic dumbass. (Things were so much easier back when Finn was his best friend; they could have entire conversations composed of nothing but grunts. They did, often.) He coughs a little instead, trying to get rid of the weird feeling in his throat. Swallowing that last poptart in one bite was probably not his brightest idea.
As soon as he feels the car slowing down, he reaches for the door handle, hoping to make a clean getaway. The unexpected feel of Tina's warm hand curving over his wrist stops him.
"Was it scary in there?" she asks. "I didn't buy what you said about owning the place, so don't even try. You're a horrible liar."
Puck appreciates what she's trying to do, but he honestly can't deal with anybody else trying to psychoanalyze him today. He's exhausted.
"Oh, it was terrifying," he nods gravely. Then, after a beat, "So much spicy food."
It's pretty damn hilarious, the way her face gets all scrunched up as she does her best to look angry instead of amused. Sort of makes him want to try and see what else he could say to make her laugh.
And okay, he has to admit that hanging out with her trumps being left alone to lick at his wounds. She seems to understand, too, because instead of leaving, she throws the car into park and silently follows him inside the house.
This is new. Hanging out by themselves, that is. At first, Puck's worried it's going to be awkward, but Tina simply follows him into the kitchen - that's always his first stop when he gets home, no exceptions - and sits down at the table. A moment later, she has her books out and is quietly doing her homework.
Puck was going to suggest watching a movie or something, but that's just as well. He's still feeling kind of restless though, so he busies himself putting together some sandwiches instead of sitting next to her. (Only to keep her company. He hasn't done his homework since sophomore year and he has no intention of starting any time soon.)
"Here," he says a couple of minutes later, setting a tray on the table with an exaggerated flourish. The sandwiches look a little lopsided and he couldn't find any mayo so they're probably on the dry side, but it doesn't matter because when Tina looks up from her book, her eyes get all wide and surprised before she shakes her head and looks back down.
"Thanks," she says, her voice laced with something Puck can't place. He tries really hard to ignore the sudden twisting in his gut, but then she smiles at him and he has to look away.
*
This can't be happening to him again. He's such an asshole. He's an asshole and there's no way he's doing that to another one of his bros. He's gonna do whatever it takes to get over it as quickly as possible.
*
Okay, so maybe going to Sam for advice on the fastest way to get a killer six-pack isn't exactly the definition of 'getting over it'.
The problem is, he's not completely sure he wants to get over it.
*
When Puck walks into the choir room a couple of weeks later, he immediately senses that something isn't right. Scanning the risers for anything out of the ordinary, he sees Tina is sitting next to Mercedes, who has her body turned protectively in her direction, and Mike's all the way on the other side of the room.
He's unable to focus on a single word Schuester says in the entire hour of rehearsal.
From a logical angle, he knows he hasn't done anything wrong. He's actually tried to distance himself from the other two ever since he had his big revelation. Hell, he hasn't even looked for an excuse to show off his abs yet. Still, he can't help feeling somehow guilty about it, even if it doesn't make any sense.
He's so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn't realize everybody's already left until he feels eyes on him and looks up, finding the piano guy staring at him from his bench. Muttering a hurried apology, Puck dashes out of the room, making his way through the deserted hallways. Well, almost deserted. He turns the last corner and spots Rachel closing her locker and heading towards the exit. He shrugs to himself. She'll have to do.
"Hey Rachel, wait up," he calls out, jogging to catch up to her. "I wanna talk to you."
Rachel regards him curiously, falling into step beside him. "Is this about the set music I e-mailed you?"
"The what?"
"Because I remember explicitly asking you to please reply with any comments and-slash-or suggestions of your own. But I supp-"
"Rachel," Puck cuts her off. "I haven't looked at your e-mails. I didn't even know you had my e-mail address. I will look at them," he adds quickly (damn her and her pouty looks), "but I wanted to talk about Mike and Tina."
"Okay," Rachel says, drawing the word out. "I assume you've heard about them then."
Puck nods. "Yeah, you could say that. You too?"
"Oh yes, definitely. We had our mandatory post-breakup session today."
"Your what?" Puck repeats. Talking to Rachel can be such a trip sometimes.
"Maybe someone should be reading his e-mails," Rachel says pointedly. "One of my duties as team captain is to make sure that the atmosphere of the club remains as peaceful and work-focused as possible at all times. Due to the, let's say astoundingly high levels of feelings and... hormones on display, I thought it wise to appoint myself as a mediator of sorts. Every time a couple breaks up, I hold a meeting with them and help them understand the importance of maintaining a cheerful and optimistic attitude in the face of heartbreak."
Puck can't do anything but gape at her, wondering if she's ever stopped to think about who the primary source of drama in that club is.
"Anyway," she continues, undeterred, "today's meeting was indeed a resounding success. It was actually the first time everybody stayed in the room for longer than a minute." She pauses, lowering her voice as if she's sharing the world's biggest secret. "Quinn and Santana aren't the most cooperative of people."
"Yeah, I can imagine," Puck says, deciding that it's better to humor her at this point. "So listen. These meetings, are they confidential?"
Rachel frowns. "Well, I haven't really thought about it, but I guess-" she abruptly shuts up, a suspicious look on her face. "What's this all about, Noah?"
"What's this ab-nothing," he protests. "They're my friends and I'm worried about them, that's all."
She still looks suspicious.
"I'm just so glad you were there for them, Rachel." He touches his hand to his chest lightly, watching her face soften. "You're such an inspiration to all of us."
Okay, too much. Now she seems even more suspicious.
"You're mocking me," she says, crossing her arms.
Puck sighs. "Look, Rachel. We both how bad I am at this whole feelings crap. I just want to know what happened." He puts one hand on her forearm, waiting until she looks up at him. "Please."
That finally seems to get through to her, because she turns around and hops on to sit on the hood of her car, facing him. "There's not much to tell, to be honest. They both assured me that their breakup was one-hundred percent on mutual and amicable terms. They were understandably sad, but both agreed that their relationship had simply run its natural course."
"And I'm sure they used those words too," Puck teases.
"Shut it, Puckerman," she mumbles, cuffing him on the back of the head.
He's so relieved by the news that he actually accepts Rachel's offer for a ride home, not even complaining when she insists on an impromptu sing-along session of assorted diva classics.
When they get to his house, he refuses to get off the car until he's made Rachel swear on her voice to take what happened on the last twenty minutes to her grave. She tries to make him agree to go to her house twice a week to sing duets with her in exchange for keeping his secret, but he's not that dumb. Using his awesome business skills, he ends up getting her to settle for once a week sessions. He can spot a good deal when he sees it.
*
Once he has separate confirmation from both Mike and Tina that what Rachel said was true and his conscience is free of misplaced guilt, he sets his plan into motion.
It turns out to be easier than he thought; Tina actually loves spending time with him. He suspects it's because he lets her laugh at him all she wants without getting angry. Like the time they're watching a marathon of her favorite horror movies and she finds out that really terrifying scenes make him tear up. Or the time she coaxes him into giving him a goth makeover.
("Get that crap away from my eye or I swear-"
"Oh come on, stop being such a baby. It's called guyliner and it's totally in right now."
"Wait, really?"
"Of course. Johnny Depp wears it all the time."
She's right. He almost doesn't want to get it off, that's how hot it makes him look. The tight pants, on the other hand? Also hot, but so not worth walking bowlegged for two days afterwards.)
*
"I still think it's bullshit," Puck says, for what feels like the millionth time.
Tina chuckles.
"No, seriously. Rachel and Mercedes and all those other girls? They get solos because they speak up and fight for them. I'm just saying, you're good too."
Tina sighs. "I don't need Mr. Schue's validation to know I'm talented, Puck. I believe in myself." She leans over the table, stealing a french fry from his basket. "Besides, I know performing is like, Rachel's entire reason for living, but I'm not like her. If I focused all of my energy on that, I wouldn't have time to spend on so much other stuff that I also love."
Puck reaches for his soda, looking around the diner at the rest of the patrons. It's the first time they've done anything other than hanging out at either of their houses, and he's having a hard time reminding himself that it's not a date and there's no way he's getting lucky any time soon or anything. They were bored and didn't feel like getting takeout. That's all.
"Okay, fine, that makes sense," he concedes. "But whatever, I still think it's messed up."
Tina shrugs. "You get used to it, though."
And just like that, Puck knows exactly what he's going to do.
"But whenever you get to be the... main singer or whatever it's called," he starts, trying not to sound conspicuous, "you like it, right?"
"Of course I do."
"Right." Puck gulps down what's left of his soda, reaches inside his wallet for a few bills and throws them on the table. "Perfect."
Tina narrows her eyes. "Wait. Perfect what?"
Puck grabs her hand - another first - and drags her towards the exit.
"Puck, where are we going?"
He doesn't stop, not until they're right next to the bowling alley, the words KAR OKE NIG T blinking down at them. Awesome. He won't even need to bribe anybody.
Tina frowns, but a few moments later her face lits up with realization. She looks back at him, shaking her head. "You can be really unpredictable sometimes, you know?"
"Oh baby," he says, reaching for her hand again and ignoring the way she rolls her eyes at the word, "you have no idea."
*
She kisses him later that night, trapping him against the side of her car in the middle of the dark parking lot. He's so stunned he doesn't even try to go for second base, his hands hovering uselessly right next to her shoulders.
"That was awesome," she pants, coming up for air.
"Totally." He's not sure what she's talking about, but hey, she's kissing him again, so he's not too worried about it.
"All right, let's go."
"Where?" Puck asks with a knowing smirk. Finally.
"What do you mean where? You need to help me rehearse. From now on, if they want to take a solo from me, they're only doing it over my dead body."
*
In the end, they don't actually get to rehearse anything. All it takes is for Puck to casually hold on to his bedroom doorframe, making sure his shirt rides up the way he's practiced a hundred times before. As soon as Tina turns around and sees him, her eyes glaze over and she mutters a quick thanks before jumping him.
Sure, it might not be the stuff fairytales are made of, but he's pretty sure the princess never showed up at the prince's door dressed like a catholic schoolgirl in any of those movies. So as far as Puck's concerned, they can keep the fairytales. He'll take the real thing any day.