Fic post
“Rachel Berry.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not taking photos right now, but I’d be happy to give you an autogra-“ Rachel looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Puck,” she said. Was that a little quiver in her voice? “What, uh, what are you doing here?”
“I’m going home. I suppose you’ve got some kind of gig in my town?” Puck said nonchalantly even though sitting next to her on a plane for nine hours was going to be hell. He wouldn’t let her know that.
“I didn’t realize Tokyo was your town,” she had recovered from her shock and was right back into I’m-talking-to-a-jackass mode. “If I had known I would have called and we could have had dinner, caught up, discussed literature.”
Puck knew that was a jab, but he was gonna let it slide. No way would she have called him. “Has been for a while, almost five years,” he said proudly. People didn’t expect him to get out of Lima let alone get to a foreign country. “And it’s pronounced Tok-yo. Two syllables, not three syllables.” He still loved any chance to correct her, Queen of the Corrections. She scrunched her face, probably making some mental note to check with a Japanese flight attendant on his pronunciation.
“What do you do there?” she asked as if she actually cared.
“I teach at an English school for old folks and shit,” Puck said making sure to turn on that vulgar tone or she might think he’d gone soft in the years since they’d been apart. “They eat it up ‘cause I’m American. On the weekends I got a band, we play bars and stuff.”
“Sounds lovely, if not a little directionless,” she replied.
“Rach, what exactly did you think I planned to do with my life?” he replied haughtily. Seriously? Only she could get him riled up so fast. “I live in Japan for Christ’s sake! I play in a band! I make good enough money to sit next to an international star on an airplane. From where I’m sitting, my life is pretty fucking good!”
He turned to make sure he didn’t upset any other passengers, but first class on this LA to Tokyo red eye was generally sparse or full of sleeping Japanese business men with those fancy noise blocking head phones. This was going to be the longest flight of his life.
“Well, that’s like a record for you, isn’t it? 50 words in 20 seconds?” she rolled her eyes. “How long have you been practicing that?”
He snorted and pointed at his watch. “You’ve got your own record. It took you just under a minute to berate me, a personal best, I’d say.”
“It’s like you’re a child.” Rachel flipped her hair and huffed. “It’s been years since we last saw each other and you are exactly the same, vulgar, disrespectful jerk!”
“You are the same obsessive, freakish bitch,” he replied shaking his head. “You know what really pisses me off? The smug attitude! Like one percent of America is famous. One fucking percent! And you have the nerve to look down on everyone. Oh sure, it’s all smiles and autographs to their faces but you look down on them.”
Puck could see her wrestling with her options. Rachel loved to be right, but she was trying to ignore him. “Actually statistics show since the popularization of reality TV that number now stands at three percent.” Her need to be right won.
Puck looked to the ceiling and huffed. “Yeah, that doesn’t prove my point at all…” Sarcasm seeping from his pores he continued. “I’m sure having a staff is so much easier than having friends.”
Rachel jumped up from her seat. He overheard her talking to the flight attendant.
“Excuse me, I need to get another seat,” she said sweetly. “Now.”
“I’m sorry,” the pretty Asian flight attendant said in her best English. “There are no more seats.”
--------
Five Years Ago
He was happy for her. Really. But things had changed. When she got the pilot she asked him to come out with her. Help her adjust. She’d done a ton of auditions and when she finally got the call she was thrilled. Like bat shit crazy, excited kind of thrilled. Puck was worried the show would get canned, like most shows do. He’d learned a lot about television and the “industry” from her. She studied the wikipage or something.
So he went with her to LA, and it was fun for a while. It was the first time they lived together. They’d been dating for years, but this was awesome. He tried to play it off. “Make me dinner, woman!” (After he recovered from the slap he knew never to say that again.) But he knew this was a big step for them and he loved it. If she wasn’t so driven for fame, Puck would have asked her then to marry him. Yeah, so what, he was mushy in the very, very, back of his mind.
But then shit went crazy. Her pilot didn’t get picked up, but she got noticed by some hot shot producer. Rachel ended up in the movie of the year, an Oscar race, (best supporting actress, but it was” just a stepping stone”) and an album that topped the Billboard. Puck sat at home playing Xbox and working at a local Jiffy Lube. (“Rach, guys dream about working places with lube in the title,” he would wink and she’d fall for it every time.)
It’s not that he minded being in the shadow. He dated Rachel Berry. He liked being in her shadow. The tabloid stories about her “kept man” or the false stories about her trysts with costars didn’t bother him. What made him leave? Oh, that was all her.
She went out every night. “How will people know who I am if I’m not out there? If there’s a red carpet, my fashionable heels need to be on it. If there’s an opening, whether it be club or restaurant, if there is a soup kitchen with paparazzi, I’ll be there!” It wasn’t like she was the fucking Three Amigos.
When he went with her, he had to have his clothing approved. She’d always been anal about appearance, but he was always able to slide. (Something about his handsome exterior and no longer having a Mohawk.) But being in LA and wanting to get your picture taken with Rachel Berry meant she had final say on what he wore. He fought it for a while, but finding his t-shirts in the trash hurt more than he wanted to admit. Instead of arguing and losing more t-shirts, he wore whatever shit she handed him.
Worst of all was the blog. The blog where she liked to leak stories about their sex life. Sure, when he was in high school, letting people know he was banging a hot actress/singer would have been great. But sitting down to catch the game and finding out that Entertainment Tonight had a backstage pass into your bedroom? Not cool. When Puck confronted her about it, she lied. He knew she was lying because she always bit her lip when she stretched the truth.
So they had the biggest fight of their lives. Except she was pissed because he did it in Lima. He dragged her home for Hanukkah, a few nights at her dads’ house, a few at his mom’s. When she threw a fit because Old Navy wouldn’t kick everyone out so she could shop, he tossed her over his shoulders, ass in the air, dumped her in his truck and they fought. Two hours later she was on a plane back to LA, alone. Puck got to clean up the mess.
He left it up to her to apologize; no one was paying him to deal with her shit and he was done covering up all her fucking drama. He did call her publicist and made sure his stuff would get sent to him, instead of Rachel having some paparazzi fueled bonfire in the back yard.
Puck watched the Oscars with his mom, on the couch. He loved her damn it and he wanted her to win that dumb statue, even after all the fighting. He wanted her to be happy. He hadn’t made her happy, maybe that bald little man would.
“Your year has been crazy. Did you ever in a million years think you’d be here?” Nancy somebody from E!, or Access Hollywood, or wherever asked Rachel.
“I’m so blessed and I just never expected this!” Rachel lied. He wanted to throw something at the TV, but he didn’t want to break the damn thing.
“Dammit! Look at her bite her lip, anyone who knows her at all would know she’s lying!”
“I’m so grateful to the fans of this little film-” Rachel chirped on in her shiny dress.
“Little!” Puck screamed at the TV. “It had a fucking 60 million budget! Jerry fucking Bruckheimer!”
“Noah! Language!” his mother scolded.
“I can’t watch this. I’m gonna get a beer,” he got up.”No way can I do this sober.”
Puck watched her lose. After that, he avoided Rachel Berry as much as he could. As much as one could avoid an international super star. Foreign country was definitely the way to go. So he went. Fast.
“Do you know how long this flight is?” Rachel asked him sharply.
“We haven’t even taken off,” Puck replied. “Maybe if you get off now, you can find another flight to Tokyo.” She rolled her eyes.
“That’s silly. We’ll just catch up,” she said. “How did you end up in Japan?”
“How is it that you’ve spent years in Hollywood and retained your natural hair color?” he asked, sugary sweet, like he cared. Except, he kinda did. It was a feat that she hadn’t gone blonde. Something he might have admired about her if he didn’t hate her with every fiber of his being.
“How do you know I haven’t gone blonde?” she flipped her hair.
“Because it’s impossible to avoid your pictures plastered all over the world.” He waited for her to smile. The “why-yes-I’m-famous” smile, but it never came. That was odd.
“So even running to Japan you couldn’t avoid me. You know what my therapist would say?” she was serious, not mocking. That was weird, too.
“You haven’t seen a therapist since high school,” Puck answered. He was thrown. She should be thrilled to hear that he couldn’t escape her larger than life pictures. Once in a train station he nearly lost his footing. She was sprawled out on a couch, naked, but covered, in one of those fancy black and white ones.
“You don’t know me anymore.” Again, her tone wasn’t accusing, but almost sad. Double weird.
As the plane started to shake (as it does during take-off) she grabbed his hand. Not to hold it, more like to squeeze the crap out of it. He didn’t shrug her off. Mostly because the strength it would have taken to do so was not worth it. But a little bit because he missed the feel of her skin.
“What’s with the Tori Spelling-esque fear of flying?” he asked as the plane climbed higher. “Never used to bother you before.” Rachel scrunched her face up. “What? I read one of her books. Don’t make this about me.”
“How do you know I didn’t want to hold your hand?” she tried to sound flirty, but it wasn’t working on him.
“Because if you squeeze any harder you’ll amputate it,” he replied.
“You don’t care,” Rachel said in between deep breaths.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t ask. Also my hand is at stake here,” he added.
“About a year ago I was on a flight,” she started. “It was a routine flight LA to New York.” She spoke slowly and continued taking calming breaths, but they didn’t seem to be working. Rachel was still holding his hand like a vice.
“There was a bad patch of turbulence,” she continued. “So to distract myself I started mentally listing actors in my head.”
“Some things never change,” Puck said with an eye roll.
“Yes well , my brilliant plan back fired. I could only think of actors and singers who had perished in plane crashes: Allyiah, Buddy Holly, Patsy Cline, Dolly Sinatra, Carol Lombard, Will Rogers, the Kennedy’s…”
“The Kennedy’s weren’t actors,” Puck interrupted.
“They were famous, and there I was, famous, and totally mortal, on a bumpy airplane,” Rachel huffed. “So now I see a therapist and I’m afraid of flying.”
“Now that we’re in the air,” he said. “Can I have my hand back?” Rachel let go looking a little embarrassed. “Whose hand do you hold when you aren’t sitting on a plane next to me?”
“Usually I fly with my assistant,” Rachel said while digging through her purse. “She just quit. Can you believe she’s getting married?” Puck watched her pull hand sanitizer from her bag and apply it. “Who gets married at 22?”
Puck thought back to when he was 22, dating Rachel, thinking about proposing. Dodged a bullet there.
“Why didn’t you bring your newest boy toy?”
“I don’t have a beau currently,” Rachel replied. “I’m very busy promoting my new movie. Have you seen the preview?”
“I don’t really follow your career,” Puck lied. He didn’t try to. But while he was home he’d seen the preview about 15 times. Damn commercials. “But my mom will go see it. She loves your movies. I think she’s seen more of them that the review staff at Entertainment Weekly.”
Rachel lit up hearing that. “Did she hear this one has Oscar buzz?”
“I don’t know, you’d have to ask her,” Puck never should have brought it up.
“Do you date much,” she asked timidly, “living in Japan?” That was weird, too.
See, they hadn’t seen each other since the nasty break up. Like at all. Some people can run into exes at the grocery store, gas station, or Starbucks. Assuming he stayed out of LA, New York, and Cannes, he was safe. He always thought he might run into her at LAX while changing planes, but it had never happened. Until now.
So talk like this never happened between these two. Of course, he could see her conquests, if he wanted to. They were plastered all over the internet, television, and magazines in the super market, even in Japan.
He remembered back to high school when the only boy she wanted anything to do with was Finn Hudson.
10 years ago
What did everyone see in Finn anyways? Puck didn’t get it. Was this a blonde versus brunette thing? Was it the hair? Puck figured he’d never know. Sitting in his cap and gown and watching Finn speak at graduation just made Puck steaming mad. Sure, that was his best friend up there, but when was the last time they sat down and bonded over an Xbox game? There had been four Call of Duty sequels since Quinn’s baby daddy drama and they hadn’t played one of them!
But Puck wasn’t butt hurt about it like a girl would be. He just went on with life, kept himself busy. Sitting there waiting for Finn to get on with it was bringing him down though. Was there a girl in this pack of red gowns that wasn’t hanging on Finn’s every word?
“And as I continue my education at Ohio State…” Finn droned on, but it wasn’t Finn’s talking that caught Puck’s attention. It was the giant squeak from the B section of the students. If Puck had to guess that squeak came from Berry. He had made many a girl in this graduating class make all kinds of dirty noises, but that noise most definitely could be traced back to Berry. Since Finn’s speech was so fucking boring he contemplated what it was that Berry was squeaking about.
It’s not like Finn and Rachel were an item. Not that he cared, but he noticed how they’d broken up at the beginning of senior year. How Glee rehearsals got really awkward for like two months, and then by sectionals everything was copacetic. Puck thought back to the last couple of weeks and how the two of them were always using the auditorium after practice. Again, he just assumed maybe they were screwing. But maybe they weren’t. What was it that Finn had said when Berry made that mouse chirp?
“And as I continue my education at Ohio State…”
Damn. Maybe they were screwing. But now he was going to Ohio and she was going to NYU. Maybe Finn had just broken the news via graduation speech. No way. Finn could be a dick, but generally he was the dump you while you stand in front of me and I tell you lies about “it’s me not you.”
Puck had time to kill, so why not get to the bottom of this. (After Finn he still had to sit through some speech from some McKinley alum that was a game show host. Stupid key note crap.) Pulling out his phone, he started with some fact finding texts.
From: Puck
To: Quinn
Baby Momma r B & F an item?
From: Quinn
To: Puck
Stop calling me that!
From: Puck
To: Quinn
Baby Momma did F just dump R?
From: Quinn
To: Puck
Stop calling me that!
From: Puck
To: Quinn
Baby Momma
From: Quinn
To: Puck
FINE! no. he dumped her in sept
From: Puck
To: Quinn
Baby Momma y did R squeak?
From: Quinn
To: Puck
Im not talkin 2 you.
Okay, so he wasn’t getting anywhere with Quinn. Maybe someone else knew. After texts to everyone in Glee, including Kurt, who Puck was pretty sure knew everything pertaining to drama, he still knew nothing.
The only thing of any use was a photo from Artie of Berry. Artie was sitting four chairs down from Rachel and stealthily (or not so stealthily, who knows?) gotten a photo of Rachel. She wasn’t crying. But Puck knew the Rachel Berry range of emotions. She was close to tears. (How did he know? Oh, it was him who got suckered into drama last year because he needed to fill a period. Heaven help him he tried to ditch that class, she needed a partner who had “leading man talent.”)
Obviously Berry felt like she had been dumped. He didn’t care but he’d been so bored at this damn graduation. Why did he say he would do this? Oh yeah, for his mom.
After the ceremony Puck hugged his mom, took the appropriate amount of pictures, and kissed her and his little sister goodbye. There were parties to hit and sophomores that were feeling horny. God bless America. As he walked to his truck he passed Berry. She had just finished her batch of obligatory photos and her dads were heading off to their car as Rachel headed to hers.
“Hey, Berry!” Puck called across the parking lot. He didn’t care who heard. He was graduated and getting out of this shit hole. She kept walking. For an unknown reason, Puck followed her.
When he finally reached her she was in full on tears and looking for her keys in her bag. He picked up the keys that had fallen to the pavement and gave them to her. She wouldn’t look at him. Just took the keys and sniffled.
“I heard you squeak during Finn’s speech,” he started. “You two have a little fight? Or did he just break the news of where he was heading to in the fall?”
Rachel took a deep breath. Wiped at her face quickly and looked up at him finally. “I gave up my spot at Julliard.”
“Okay…” Puck replied unsure of what she was trying to say.
“I took myself out of the running so he’d have a better chance at getting in,” she said. He could see the tears waiting to fall, but like the true star she was, she held back. “I helped him for months. We’ve been working so hard and he took an Ohio State football scholarship!” She actually yelled that last part. It was Oscar winning. Like the Jack Nicolson speech from A Few Good Men. “Our football team sucks! When was the last time you guys won a game?!”
Rachel glared at Puck like he had some part in wronging her.
“Besides the game that Kurt kicked? 1987, but it’s not like we didn’t try” he said trying to appease the angry Rachel.
It didn’t appease her. She pounded on his chest and he grabbed her arms. He thought he’d have to hold tighter but she quit fighting so he held her while she cried. She cried for about three minutes before he pushed her off him.
“You need to get drunk. And you need to do it now.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Rachel said wiping her eyes.
“Like I don’t have eight pool jobs lined up next week, I’m not looking to get into your pants,” Puck replied rudely. “You need to loosen up so we can talk about why you keep letting Finn, or the next loser who can sing, shit on your heart. You can’t go away to NYU with these romantic ideas in your head.”
And that’s how they ended up living in the same apartment building in New York. Her at NYU, him at LaGuardia Community College, but only because she bugged him about it. He’d have been happy working at the cabinet shop down the street, but she insisted he enroll in school, too. And his mom liked the idea, so he complained enough to keep his bad ass image, but then gave in.
“What are you doing in Tokyo?”
“Just the opening of the film, press.” She sipped her champagne and turned her nose up when the flight attendant brought his beer. “I think I’m going to be on a couple of talk shows.”
“That’s something I’d tune in to see,” he smiled. “You, on a Japanese talk show. Are you gonna spin a wheel of fun?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said rudely.
“Have you never seen a Japanese talk show?” Puck asked, surprised. “Is this your first time in Japan?”
“I came and did a show last year, but I was here about twenty four hours. My tour schedule was absurd. I’m so glad I’m never doing another one.”
“Another show in Japan?” Puck asked confused. Surely International Super Stars had to do world tours.
“No, I’m retired from the world tours,” she said with a sigh, but Puck sensed no regret.
They had now entered bizarro land. Rachel Berry could never tire of fame. Never. She’d told him on multiple occasions how you never got bored of all the love that a fan could dish. Even the stalker kind. “You’ve really made it when you have a stalker!” she’d tell him.
Maybe he really didn’t know her anymore.
Rachel had not been the only woman that Puck had ever loved. His mother, Quinn, Beth, even Santana in junior high when she first kissed him, these were just a few of the women he loved.
But Rachel.
Well, she had been a highlight. He was not so cheesy as to say “the one that got away.” Shit, he should be “the one that got away” to her! If he was honest with himself, he’d carried a torch for her. A damn heavy one. It took running into her again to make him notice how heavy.
And what kind of pussy was he? All she had said was that she wasn’t doing another world tour. It wasn’t like she was climbing on top of him begging for forgiveness. Nah, he didn’t need Rachel. Puck was happy. Perfectly happy. Wait, did she say something?
“Puck, you aren’t concerned as to why I’m touring?”
“When have I ever been concerned for your well being?” Puck asked sharply and then regretted it when he saw her face go stony. “I mean, recently.” He hoped that softened the blow.
“Never mind,” she snapped.
“Hey, that came out wrong,” Puck started. “I’m actually really surprised you aren’t touring. Did ya get attacked by a crazy stalker or something? Or is this like a Rolling Stones retirement where you aren’t really retired?”
“No stalker and I’m really through.” Rachel turned back to him with her pouty lip out. Puck rolled his eyes.
“Well?” he prodded out of annoyance more than concern.
“If you must know I’ve started to get a little, um…” she looked up at the ceiling, obviously trying to choose her words carefully.
“Showbiz not all you dreamed it would be, little girl?” Puck suggested in a more playful tone.
Now he was getting hopeful. Maybe if Rachel was back to her old self, they could get back together. Oh God! He was a fucking sap! He did not just think that.
The fights they had were awful. Once or twice she threw things at his head. High heels if he recalled. A pros and cons list was going to be needed to determine if he even wanted to take her back. Yeah. Great. An hour sitting next to Rachel and he was thinking like her.
“It’s not that…it’s just…”
“Spit it out, Berry!” Puck interrupted.
“Maybe I’m a little tired of the daily grind of being a star.” She said it so fast he almost didn’t catch it.
Puck wanted to laugh. He wanted to call bullshit. He wanted to call the fucking National Enquirer. Surely only they would run a story so outlandish. But he looked at her, and he believed it. It had been years but she could never lie to him. Other people ate up her tall tales, but not this guy. He knew.
Unsure of what he really wanted from Rachel, he waited for a minute before responding. The only thing he could think to say was a sorta ‘hmph’ sound. There were no words for this situation. Even Rachel seemed to know that, she didn’t say anything either.
“So, what are you gonna do?” Puck finally asked.
“I don’t know,” she said while biting her lip. Bull shit.
“You do know,” Puck said. “So either you don’t want to tell me, or you’ve been lying the whole time.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “You’re going to laugh at me when I tell you.”
“Bitch is on the fuckin’ A list and you’re scared I’m gonna laugh at you?” Puck shook his head. “Am I intimidating?” His eyebrows lifted and he smiled a wicked smile.
“I’m going to do a play,” she said timidly.
“Why would I laugh at that?”
“Because you hated New York,” she said. “You told me plays were ridiculous and you preferred film. You even told me that Broadway theaters gave you hives!” She genuinely looked hurt. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with baggage from their past relationship.
“I told you that so I wouldn’t have to see Wicked six times a week with you.” Puck smiled. “God, I told you that the first week we moved to New York. You’ve carried that around for 10 years?”
“I used to care about your opinion.” Rachel shot back. Obviously not charmed by his smile and tone.
“Well, no need to care about me anymore, right?” Puck said, nonchalantly. “Since you dumped me, no need for the caring.”
“Since I dumped you?!” Rachel was mad. “You stayed in Lima! You embarrassed me!”
“Yeah, douche of the year for that, huh? How dare we fight that awful fight where no one could take photos?” Rachel may have been mad, but Puck was now livid. “Maybe I could have called someone, then it would be documented for the world to see and you could be the victim!” The intensity of his hate and his hurt were meshing together and resulting in a rather nasty tone.
“What?” Rachel yelled. “I didn’t want pictures! I didn’t want to go home to my dads and have to tell them that the man I loved, the man they loved, didn’t want me anymore!” She took a deep breath. Yelling was hard work at this high altitude. “How could you think for a second it had anything to do with the media?”
“Um, because you leaked our sex life!” he shot back. “You got high off of an appearance on E!News. You’d do anything to stay on the front page.”
“I waited for you to come home,” Rachel yelled still even though the flight attendants were rallying. “You didn’t even come get your stuff! Instead of calling me to mail your junk, you called my publicist. Who, I’m sure, you were screwing!”
A flight attendant made her way to them. She was not Japanese like the others. “Excuse me. You’ll need to stop yelling. You’re disturbing the other passengers.”
Rachel turned fiery eyes on the woman. No one told Rachel Berry to quiet down. Puck thought she might bite the woman’s head off, which would be sad because she had a really hot face.
“Do you know who I am?” Rachel yelled, not lowering her voice one bit.
“Yes, you’re Rachel Berry.” The flight attendant seemed to wither a little.
“Then you should know that I can have you fired before we get off this plane!”
“Don’t listen to her,” Puck said, smiling that grin that got him laid.
“You just shut up, Noah Puckerman!” Rachel growled. “Stop trying to get into that woman’s pants and get over yourself!”
“You first, Berry!” Puck said as Rachel turned back to the flight attendant.
“I need to move seats. I cannot sit here with him!”
“Ma’am, there are no other seats in first class,” the attendant said. “You seem to know each other, so maybe just another drink for you? And some headphones? We have some lovely movies on the menu.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll try my best to keep her quiet,” Puck apologized. “But I’m gonna need another beer, and get her something fruity…she likes the fruity shit.” He winked as the attendant walked away.
“That kind of behavior is why I know you were sleeping with my publicist.”
“Good God, Rachel!” he huffed. “I was not sleeping with your publicist! I didn’t want my clothes to be burned in the fireplace! I didn’t want to try and walk into our home to find that you’d changed the locks and the security codes. It was just easier to have Marcy send me my shit.”
“Marjorie,” Rachel said quietly.
“Huh?”
“Her name is Marjorie, not Marcy.”
“She still your publicist?” Puck asked, noticing the calm express Rachel wore.
“Yes, well up until last week when she admitted to sleeping with Grant.” Rachel looked hurt.
“Grant must be your newest boy toy?” Rachel nodded. “Not so much anymore, though, huh?”
“We went our separate ways a few weeks ago,” Rachel explained. “But we didn’t date for long, I just, I’m just tired of the way you get screwed in LA. It’s exhausting.”
“You really are tired of that life, aren’t you?” he said.
After a long while, Rachel turned to him with tears in her eyes. “I thought I wanted it.”
“I know,” he soothed while trying to pull her to him. She bumped into the center arm rest and he chuckled. “Guess we should move this up. Damn cock blocking arm rest!” Rachel laughed with him and snuggled into him. Within minutes she was asleep.
What on earth was he doing and how in the hell did this happen?
“I’m sorry, I’m not taking photos right now, but I’d be happy to give you an autogra-“ Rachel looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Puck,” she said. Was that a little quiver in her voice? “What, uh, what are you doing here?”
“I’m going home. I suppose you’ve got some kind of gig in my town?” Puck said nonchalantly even though sitting next to her on a plane for nine hours was going to be hell. He wouldn’t let her know that.
“I didn’t realize Tokyo was your town,” she had recovered from her shock and was right back into I’m-talking-to-a-jackass mode. “If I had known I would have called and we could have had dinner, caught up, discussed literature.”
Puck knew that was a jab, but he was gonna let it slide. No way would she have called him. “Has been for a while, almost five years,” he said proudly. People didn’t expect him to get out of Lima let alone get to a foreign country. “And it’s pronounced Tok-yo. Two syllables, not three syllables.” He still loved any chance to correct her, Queen of the Corrections. She scrunched her face, probably making some mental note to check with a Japanese flight attendant on his pronunciation.
“What do you do there?” she asked as if she actually cared.
“I teach at an English school for old folks and shit,” Puck said making sure to turn on that vulgar tone or she might think he’d gone soft in the years since they’d been apart. “They eat it up ‘cause I’m American. On the weekends I got a band, we play bars and stuff.”
“Sounds lovely, if not a little directionless,” she replied.
“Rach, what exactly did you think I planned to do with my life?” he replied haughtily. Seriously? Only she could get him riled up so fast. “I live in Japan for Christ’s sake! I play in a band! I make good enough money to sit next to an international star on an airplane. From where I’m sitting, my life is pretty fucking good!”
He turned to make sure he didn’t upset any other passengers, but first class on this LA to Tokyo red eye was generally sparse or full of sleeping Japanese business men with those fancy noise blocking head phones. This was going to be the longest flight of his life.
“Well, that’s like a record for you, isn’t it? 50 words in 20 seconds?” she rolled her eyes. “How long have you been practicing that?”
He snorted and pointed at his watch. “You’ve got your own record. It took you just under a minute to berate me, a personal best, I’d say.”
“It’s like you’re a child.” Rachel flipped her hair and huffed. “It’s been years since we last saw each other and you are exactly the same, vulgar, disrespectful jerk!”
“You are the same obsessive, freakish bitch,” he replied shaking his head. “You know what really pisses me off? The smug attitude! Like one percent of America is famous. One fucking percent! And you have the nerve to look down on everyone. Oh sure, it’s all smiles and autographs to their faces but you look down on them.”
Puck could see her wrestling with her options. Rachel loved to be right, but she was trying to ignore him. “Actually statistics show since the popularization of reality TV that number now stands at three percent.” Her need to be right won.
Puck looked to the ceiling and huffed. “Yeah, that doesn’t prove my point at all…” Sarcasm seeping from his pores he continued. “I’m sure having a staff is so much easier than having friends.”
Rachel jumped up from her seat. He overheard her talking to the flight attendant.
“Excuse me, I need to get another seat,” she said sweetly. “Now.”
“I’m sorry,” the pretty Asian flight attendant said in her best English. “There are no more seats.”
--------
Five Years Ago
He was happy for her. Really. But things had changed. When she got the pilot she asked him to come out with her. Help her adjust. She’d done a ton of auditions and when she finally got the call she was thrilled. Like bat shit crazy, excited kind of thrilled. Puck was worried the show would get canned, like most shows do. He’d learned a lot about television and the “industry” from her. She studied the wikipage or something.
So he went with her to LA, and it was fun for a while. It was the first time they lived together. They’d been dating for years, but this was awesome. He tried to play it off. “Make me dinner, woman!” (After he recovered from the slap he knew never to say that again.) But he knew this was a big step for them and he loved it. If she wasn’t so driven for fame, Puck would have asked her then to marry him. Yeah, so what, he was mushy in the very, very, back of his mind.
But then shit went crazy. Her pilot didn’t get picked up, but she got noticed by some hot shot producer. Rachel ended up in the movie of the year, an Oscar race, (best supporting actress, but it was” just a stepping stone”) and an album that topped the Billboard. Puck sat at home playing Xbox and working at a local Jiffy Lube. (“Rach, guys dream about working places with lube in the title,” he would wink and she’d fall for it every time.)
It’s not that he minded being in the shadow. He dated Rachel Berry. He liked being in her shadow. The tabloid stories about her “kept man” or the false stories about her trysts with costars didn’t bother him. What made him leave? Oh, that was all her.
She went out every night. “How will people know who I am if I’m not out there? If there’s a red carpet, my fashionable heels need to be on it. If there’s an opening, whether it be club or restaurant, if there is a soup kitchen with paparazzi, I’ll be there!” It wasn’t like she was the fucking Three Amigos.
When he went with her, he had to have his clothing approved. She’d always been anal about appearance, but he was always able to slide. (Something about his handsome exterior and no longer having a Mohawk.) But being in LA and wanting to get your picture taken with Rachel Berry meant she had final say on what he wore. He fought it for a while, but finding his t-shirts in the trash hurt more than he wanted to admit. Instead of arguing and losing more t-shirts, he wore whatever shit she handed him.
Worst of all was the blog. The blog where she liked to leak stories about their sex life. Sure, when he was in high school, letting people know he was banging a hot actress/singer would have been great. But sitting down to catch the game and finding out that Entertainment Tonight had a backstage pass into your bedroom? Not cool. When Puck confronted her about it, she lied. He knew she was lying because she always bit her lip when she stretched the truth.
So they had the biggest fight of their lives. Except she was pissed because he did it in Lima. He dragged her home for Hanukkah, a few nights at her dads’ house, a few at his mom’s. When she threw a fit because Old Navy wouldn’t kick everyone out so she could shop, he tossed her over his shoulders, ass in the air, dumped her in his truck and they fought. Two hours later she was on a plane back to LA, alone. Puck got to clean up the mess.
He left it up to her to apologize; no one was paying him to deal with her shit and he was done covering up all her fucking drama. He did call her publicist and made sure his stuff would get sent to him, instead of Rachel having some paparazzi fueled bonfire in the back yard.
Puck watched the Oscars with his mom, on the couch. He loved her damn it and he wanted her to win that dumb statue, even after all the fighting. He wanted her to be happy. He hadn’t made her happy, maybe that bald little man would.
“Your year has been crazy. Did you ever in a million years think you’d be here?” Nancy somebody from E!, or Access Hollywood, or wherever asked Rachel.
“I’m so blessed and I just never expected this!” Rachel lied. He wanted to throw something at the TV, but he didn’t want to break the damn thing.
“Dammit! Look at her bite her lip, anyone who knows her at all would know she’s lying!”
“I’m so grateful to the fans of this little film-” Rachel chirped on in her shiny dress.
“Little!” Puck screamed at the TV. “It had a fucking 60 million budget! Jerry fucking Bruckheimer!”
“Noah! Language!” his mother scolded.
“I can’t watch this. I’m gonna get a beer,” he got up.”No way can I do this sober.”
Puck watched her lose. After that, he avoided Rachel Berry as much as he could. As much as one could avoid an international super star. Foreign country was definitely the way to go. So he went. Fast.
“Do you know how long this flight is?” Rachel asked him sharply.
“We haven’t even taken off,” Puck replied. “Maybe if you get off now, you can find another flight to Tokyo.” She rolled her eyes.
“That’s silly. We’ll just catch up,” she said. “How did you end up in Japan?”
“How is it that you’ve spent years in Hollywood and retained your natural hair color?” he asked, sugary sweet, like he cared. Except, he kinda did. It was a feat that she hadn’t gone blonde. Something he might have admired about her if he didn’t hate her with every fiber of his being.
“How do you know I haven’t gone blonde?” she flipped her hair.
“Because it’s impossible to avoid your pictures plastered all over the world.” He waited for her to smile. The “why-yes-I’m-famous” smile, but it never came. That was odd.
“So even running to Japan you couldn’t avoid me. You know what my therapist would say?” she was serious, not mocking. That was weird, too.
“You haven’t seen a therapist since high school,” Puck answered. He was thrown. She should be thrilled to hear that he couldn’t escape her larger than life pictures. Once in a train station he nearly lost his footing. She was sprawled out on a couch, naked, but covered, in one of those fancy black and white ones.
“You don’t know me anymore.” Again, her tone wasn’t accusing, but almost sad. Double weird.
As the plane started to shake (as it does during take-off) she grabbed his hand. Not to hold it, more like to squeeze the crap out of it. He didn’t shrug her off. Mostly because the strength it would have taken to do so was not worth it. But a little bit because he missed the feel of her skin.
“What’s with the Tori Spelling-esque fear of flying?” he asked as the plane climbed higher. “Never used to bother you before.” Rachel scrunched her face up. “What? I read one of her books. Don’t make this about me.”
“How do you know I didn’t want to hold your hand?” she tried to sound flirty, but it wasn’t working on him.
“Because if you squeeze any harder you’ll amputate it,” he replied.
“You don’t care,” Rachel said in between deep breaths.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t ask. Also my hand is at stake here,” he added.
“About a year ago I was on a flight,” she started. “It was a routine flight LA to New York.” She spoke slowly and continued taking calming breaths, but they didn’t seem to be working. Rachel was still holding his hand like a vice.
“There was a bad patch of turbulence,” she continued. “So to distract myself I started mentally listing actors in my head.”
“Some things never change,” Puck said with an eye roll.
“Yes well , my brilliant plan back fired. I could only think of actors and singers who had perished in plane crashes: Allyiah, Buddy Holly, Patsy Cline, Dolly Sinatra, Carol Lombard, Will Rogers, the Kennedy’s…”
“The Kennedy’s weren’t actors,” Puck interrupted.
“They were famous, and there I was, famous, and totally mortal, on a bumpy airplane,” Rachel huffed. “So now I see a therapist and I’m afraid of flying.”
“Now that we’re in the air,” he said. “Can I have my hand back?” Rachel let go looking a little embarrassed. “Whose hand do you hold when you aren’t sitting on a plane next to me?”
“Usually I fly with my assistant,” Rachel said while digging through her purse. “She just quit. Can you believe she’s getting married?” Puck watched her pull hand sanitizer from her bag and apply it. “Who gets married at 22?”
Puck thought back to when he was 22, dating Rachel, thinking about proposing. Dodged a bullet there.
“Why didn’t you bring your newest boy toy?”
“I don’t have a beau currently,” Rachel replied. “I’m very busy promoting my new movie. Have you seen the preview?”
“I don’t really follow your career,” Puck lied. He didn’t try to. But while he was home he’d seen the preview about 15 times. Damn commercials. “But my mom will go see it. She loves your movies. I think she’s seen more of them that the review staff at Entertainment Weekly.”
Rachel lit up hearing that. “Did she hear this one has Oscar buzz?”
“I don’t know, you’d have to ask her,” Puck never should have brought it up.
“Do you date much,” she asked timidly, “living in Japan?” That was weird, too.
See, they hadn’t seen each other since the nasty break up. Like at all. Some people can run into exes at the grocery store, gas station, or Starbucks. Assuming he stayed out of LA, New York, and Cannes, he was safe. He always thought he might run into her at LAX while changing planes, but it had never happened. Until now.
So talk like this never happened between these two. Of course, he could see her conquests, if he wanted to. They were plastered all over the internet, television, and magazines in the super market, even in Japan.
He remembered back to high school when the only boy she wanted anything to do with was Finn Hudson.
10 years ago
What did everyone see in Finn anyways? Puck didn’t get it. Was this a blonde versus brunette thing? Was it the hair? Puck figured he’d never know. Sitting in his cap and gown and watching Finn speak at graduation just made Puck steaming mad. Sure, that was his best friend up there, but when was the last time they sat down and bonded over an Xbox game? There had been four Call of Duty sequels since Quinn’s baby daddy drama and they hadn’t played one of them!
But Puck wasn’t butt hurt about it like a girl would be. He just went on with life, kept himself busy. Sitting there waiting for Finn to get on with it was bringing him down though. Was there a girl in this pack of red gowns that wasn’t hanging on Finn’s every word?
“And as I continue my education at Ohio State…” Finn droned on, but it wasn’t Finn’s talking that caught Puck’s attention. It was the giant squeak from the B section of the students. If Puck had to guess that squeak came from Berry. He had made many a girl in this graduating class make all kinds of dirty noises, but that noise most definitely could be traced back to Berry. Since Finn’s speech was so fucking boring he contemplated what it was that Berry was squeaking about.
It’s not like Finn and Rachel were an item. Not that he cared, but he noticed how they’d broken up at the beginning of senior year. How Glee rehearsals got really awkward for like two months, and then by sectionals everything was copacetic. Puck thought back to the last couple of weeks and how the two of them were always using the auditorium after practice. Again, he just assumed maybe they were screwing. But maybe they weren’t. What was it that Finn had said when Berry made that mouse chirp?
“And as I continue my education at Ohio State…”
Damn. Maybe they were screwing. But now he was going to Ohio and she was going to NYU. Maybe Finn had just broken the news via graduation speech. No way. Finn could be a dick, but generally he was the dump you while you stand in front of me and I tell you lies about “it’s me not you.”
Puck had time to kill, so why not get to the bottom of this. (After Finn he still had to sit through some speech from some McKinley alum that was a game show host. Stupid key note crap.) Pulling out his phone, he started with some fact finding texts.
From: Puck
To: Quinn
Baby Momma r B & F an item?
From: Quinn
To: Puck
Stop calling me that!
From: Puck
To: Quinn
Baby Momma did F just dump R?
From: Quinn
To: Puck
Stop calling me that!
From: Puck
To: Quinn
Baby Momma
From: Quinn
To: Puck
FINE! no. he dumped her in sept
From: Puck
To: Quinn
Baby Momma y did R squeak?
From: Quinn
To: Puck
Im not talkin 2 you.
Okay, so he wasn’t getting anywhere with Quinn. Maybe someone else knew. After texts to everyone in Glee, including Kurt, who Puck was pretty sure knew everything pertaining to drama, he still knew nothing.
The only thing of any use was a photo from Artie of Berry. Artie was sitting four chairs down from Rachel and stealthily (or not so stealthily, who knows?) gotten a photo of Rachel. She wasn’t crying. But Puck knew the Rachel Berry range of emotions. She was close to tears. (How did he know? Oh, it was him who got suckered into drama last year because he needed to fill a period. Heaven help him he tried to ditch that class, she needed a partner who had “leading man talent.”)
Obviously Berry felt like she had been dumped. He didn’t care but he’d been so bored at this damn graduation. Why did he say he would do this? Oh yeah, for his mom.
After the ceremony Puck hugged his mom, took the appropriate amount of pictures, and kissed her and his little sister goodbye. There were parties to hit and sophomores that were feeling horny. God bless America. As he walked to his truck he passed Berry. She had just finished her batch of obligatory photos and her dads were heading off to their car as Rachel headed to hers.
“Hey, Berry!” Puck called across the parking lot. He didn’t care who heard. He was graduated and getting out of this shit hole. She kept walking. For an unknown reason, Puck followed her.
When he finally reached her she was in full on tears and looking for her keys in her bag. He picked up the keys that had fallen to the pavement and gave them to her. She wouldn’t look at him. Just took the keys and sniffled.
“I heard you squeak during Finn’s speech,” he started. “You two have a little fight? Or did he just break the news of where he was heading to in the fall?”
Rachel took a deep breath. Wiped at her face quickly and looked up at him finally. “I gave up my spot at Julliard.”
“Okay…” Puck replied unsure of what she was trying to say.
“I took myself out of the running so he’d have a better chance at getting in,” she said. He could see the tears waiting to fall, but like the true star she was, she held back. “I helped him for months. We’ve been working so hard and he took an Ohio State football scholarship!” She actually yelled that last part. It was Oscar winning. Like the Jack Nicolson speech from A Few Good Men. “Our football team sucks! When was the last time you guys won a game?!”
Rachel glared at Puck like he had some part in wronging her.
“Besides the game that Kurt kicked? 1987, but it’s not like we didn’t try” he said trying to appease the angry Rachel.
It didn’t appease her. She pounded on his chest and he grabbed her arms. He thought he’d have to hold tighter but she quit fighting so he held her while she cried. She cried for about three minutes before he pushed her off him.
“You need to get drunk. And you need to do it now.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” Rachel said wiping her eyes.
“Like I don’t have eight pool jobs lined up next week, I’m not looking to get into your pants,” Puck replied rudely. “You need to loosen up so we can talk about why you keep letting Finn, or the next loser who can sing, shit on your heart. You can’t go away to NYU with these romantic ideas in your head.”
And that’s how they ended up living in the same apartment building in New York. Her at NYU, him at LaGuardia Community College, but only because she bugged him about it. He’d have been happy working at the cabinet shop down the street, but she insisted he enroll in school, too. And his mom liked the idea, so he complained enough to keep his bad ass image, but then gave in.
“What are you doing in Tokyo?”
“Just the opening of the film, press.” She sipped her champagne and turned her nose up when the flight attendant brought his beer. “I think I’m going to be on a couple of talk shows.”
“That’s something I’d tune in to see,” he smiled. “You, on a Japanese talk show. Are you gonna spin a wheel of fun?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said rudely.
“Have you never seen a Japanese talk show?” Puck asked, surprised. “Is this your first time in Japan?”
“I came and did a show last year, but I was here about twenty four hours. My tour schedule was absurd. I’m so glad I’m never doing another one.”
“Another show in Japan?” Puck asked confused. Surely International Super Stars had to do world tours.
“No, I’m retired from the world tours,” she said with a sigh, but Puck sensed no regret.
They had now entered bizarro land. Rachel Berry could never tire of fame. Never. She’d told him on multiple occasions how you never got bored of all the love that a fan could dish. Even the stalker kind. “You’ve really made it when you have a stalker!” she’d tell him.
Maybe he really didn’t know her anymore.
Rachel had not been the only woman that Puck had ever loved. His mother, Quinn, Beth, even Santana in junior high when she first kissed him, these were just a few of the women he loved.
But Rachel.
Well, she had been a highlight. He was not so cheesy as to say “the one that got away.” Shit, he should be “the one that got away” to her! If he was honest with himself, he’d carried a torch for her. A damn heavy one. It took running into her again to make him notice how heavy.
And what kind of pussy was he? All she had said was that she wasn’t doing another world tour. It wasn’t like she was climbing on top of him begging for forgiveness. Nah, he didn’t need Rachel. Puck was happy. Perfectly happy. Wait, did she say something?
“Puck, you aren’t concerned as to why I’m touring?”
“When have I ever been concerned for your well being?” Puck asked sharply and then regretted it when he saw her face go stony. “I mean, recently.” He hoped that softened the blow.
“Never mind,” she snapped.
“Hey, that came out wrong,” Puck started. “I’m actually really surprised you aren’t touring. Did ya get attacked by a crazy stalker or something? Or is this like a Rolling Stones retirement where you aren’t really retired?”
“No stalker and I’m really through.” Rachel turned back to him with her pouty lip out. Puck rolled his eyes.
“Well?” he prodded out of annoyance more than concern.
“If you must know I’ve started to get a little, um…” she looked up at the ceiling, obviously trying to choose her words carefully.
“Showbiz not all you dreamed it would be, little girl?” Puck suggested in a more playful tone.
Now he was getting hopeful. Maybe if Rachel was back to her old self, they could get back together. Oh God! He was a fucking sap! He did not just think that.
The fights they had were awful. Once or twice she threw things at his head. High heels if he recalled. A pros and cons list was going to be needed to determine if he even wanted to take her back. Yeah. Great. An hour sitting next to Rachel and he was thinking like her.
“It’s not that…it’s just…”
“Spit it out, Berry!” Puck interrupted.
“Maybe I’m a little tired of the daily grind of being a star.” She said it so fast he almost didn’t catch it.
Puck wanted to laugh. He wanted to call bullshit. He wanted to call the fucking National Enquirer. Surely only they would run a story so outlandish. But he looked at her, and he believed it. It had been years but she could never lie to him. Other people ate up her tall tales, but not this guy. He knew.
Unsure of what he really wanted from Rachel, he waited for a minute before responding. The only thing he could think to say was a sorta ‘hmph’ sound. There were no words for this situation. Even Rachel seemed to know that, she didn’t say anything either.
“So, what are you gonna do?” Puck finally asked.
“I don’t know,” she said while biting her lip. Bull shit.
“You do know,” Puck said. “So either you don’t want to tell me, or you’ve been lying the whole time.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “You’re going to laugh at me when I tell you.”
“Bitch is on the fuckin’ A list and you’re scared I’m gonna laugh at you?” Puck shook his head. “Am I intimidating?” His eyebrows lifted and he smiled a wicked smile.
“I’m going to do a play,” she said timidly.
“Why would I laugh at that?”
“Because you hated New York,” she said. “You told me plays were ridiculous and you preferred film. You even told me that Broadway theaters gave you hives!” She genuinely looked hurt. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with baggage from their past relationship.
“I told you that so I wouldn’t have to see Wicked six times a week with you.” Puck smiled. “God, I told you that the first week we moved to New York. You’ve carried that around for 10 years?”
“I used to care about your opinion.” Rachel shot back. Obviously not charmed by his smile and tone.
“Well, no need to care about me anymore, right?” Puck said, nonchalantly. “Since you dumped me, no need for the caring.”
“Since I dumped you?!” Rachel was mad. “You stayed in Lima! You embarrassed me!”
“Yeah, douche of the year for that, huh? How dare we fight that awful fight where no one could take photos?” Rachel may have been mad, but Puck was now livid. “Maybe I could have called someone, then it would be documented for the world to see and you could be the victim!” The intensity of his hate and his hurt were meshing together and resulting in a rather nasty tone.
“What?” Rachel yelled. “I didn’t want pictures! I didn’t want to go home to my dads and have to tell them that the man I loved, the man they loved, didn’t want me anymore!” She took a deep breath. Yelling was hard work at this high altitude. “How could you think for a second it had anything to do with the media?”
“Um, because you leaked our sex life!” he shot back. “You got high off of an appearance on E!News. You’d do anything to stay on the front page.”
“I waited for you to come home,” Rachel yelled still even though the flight attendants were rallying. “You didn’t even come get your stuff! Instead of calling me to mail your junk, you called my publicist. Who, I’m sure, you were screwing!”
A flight attendant made her way to them. She was not Japanese like the others. “Excuse me. You’ll need to stop yelling. You’re disturbing the other passengers.”
Rachel turned fiery eyes on the woman. No one told Rachel Berry to quiet down. Puck thought she might bite the woman’s head off, which would be sad because she had a really hot face.
“Do you know who I am?” Rachel yelled, not lowering her voice one bit.
“Yes, you’re Rachel Berry.” The flight attendant seemed to wither a little.
“Then you should know that I can have you fired before we get off this plane!”
“Don’t listen to her,” Puck said, smiling that grin that got him laid.
“You just shut up, Noah Puckerman!” Rachel growled. “Stop trying to get into that woman’s pants and get over yourself!”
“You first, Berry!” Puck said as Rachel turned back to the flight attendant.
“I need to move seats. I cannot sit here with him!”
“Ma’am, there are no other seats in first class,” the attendant said. “You seem to know each other, so maybe just another drink for you? And some headphones? We have some lovely movies on the menu.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll try my best to keep her quiet,” Puck apologized. “But I’m gonna need another beer, and get her something fruity…she likes the fruity shit.” He winked as the attendant walked away.
“That kind of behavior is why I know you were sleeping with my publicist.”
“Good God, Rachel!” he huffed. “I was not sleeping with your publicist! I didn’t want my clothes to be burned in the fireplace! I didn’t want to try and walk into our home to find that you’d changed the locks and the security codes. It was just easier to have Marcy send me my shit.”
“Marjorie,” Rachel said quietly.
“Huh?”
“Her name is Marjorie, not Marcy.”
“She still your publicist?” Puck asked, noticing the calm express Rachel wore.
“Yes, well up until last week when she admitted to sleeping with Grant.” Rachel looked hurt.
“Grant must be your newest boy toy?” Rachel nodded. “Not so much anymore, though, huh?”
“We went our separate ways a few weeks ago,” Rachel explained. “But we didn’t date for long, I just, I’m just tired of the way you get screwed in LA. It’s exhausting.”
“You really are tired of that life, aren’t you?” he said.
After a long while, Rachel turned to him with tears in her eyes. “I thought I wanted it.”
“I know,” he soothed while trying to pull her to him. She bumped into the center arm rest and he chuckled. “Guess we should move this up. Damn cock blocking arm rest!” Rachel laughed with him and snuggled into him. Within minutes she was asleep.
What on earth was he doing and how in the hell did this happen?