at the movies - drabble
Glee. 308 words. Puck/Rachel. OOPS I DID IT AGAIN. I PLAYED WITH YOUR HEART. GOT LOST IN THE GAME. No really, I have a problem you guys...I can't make myself stop writing these. So, blah blah blah, fake drabble, same preface as all the others. BUT CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED: venturing beyond this point puts you at extreme risk for cavities. I'm not kidding, you may want to schedule an appointment with your dentist, just in case.
At the Movies
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"Listen, Berry, all I'm saying is if that pansy-ass prick from Singin' in the Rain were in a cage fight, like straight up, hardcore deathmatch of doom--"
"You did not just call Gene Kelly a pansy-ass prick."
"Gene who?"
She scoffs as they make their way out of the theater and her hand slips effortlessly into his.
"Only one of the greatest showmen to ever live--"
"Okay whatever, just listen. If that Danny or Davy or whoever the fuck he was got into throwdown with that guy with the gay-sounding name, he'd totally get his ass whooped. Which says a lot."
This boy's brain is a thing of wonder, she thinks, and not in a good way. None of that matters though because he only made gagging sounds for the first ten minutes of the movie (as opposed to his usual ninety) and now his arm is slung around her shoulders, trapping his warmth against her. It's been months, and yet moments like this still make her feel like what she's living must be some sort of alternate reality. Is she still Rachel Berry? She must be, but sometimes things are so wonderfully ordinary, it's hard to tell. (How did this even happen?)
She snakes her arms under his jacket, rests her head on his shoulder and laughs.
"You laugh 'cause you know I'm right." They stop at his car, and she smiles up at him, her eyes tired, but bright.
"The intensity with which you've immersed yourself in this medium is really starting to worry me, Noah."
"Yo, Inglés por favor. Puckerone no habla crazy."
"Liar."
"Drama Queen."
"Man Whore."
"...Berry, that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." He leans in for a kiss and she she smiles against his lips.
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At the Movies
---
"Listen, Berry, all I'm saying is if that pansy-ass prick from Singin' in the Rain were in a cage fight, like straight up, hardcore deathmatch of doom--"
"You did not just call Gene Kelly a pansy-ass prick."
"Gene who?"
She scoffs as they make their way out of the theater and her hand slips effortlessly into his.
"Only one of the greatest showmen to ever live--"
"Okay whatever, just listen. If that Danny or Davy or whoever the fuck he was got into throwdown with that guy with the gay-sounding name, he'd totally get his ass whooped. Which says a lot."
This boy's brain is a thing of wonder, she thinks, and not in a good way. None of that matters though because he only made gagging sounds for the first ten minutes of the movie (as opposed to his usual ninety) and now his arm is slung around her shoulders, trapping his warmth against her. It's been months, and yet moments like this still make her feel like what she's living must be some sort of alternate reality. Is she still Rachel Berry? She must be, but sometimes things are so wonderfully ordinary, it's hard to tell. (How did this even happen?)
She snakes her arms under his jacket, rests her head on his shoulder and laughs.
"You laugh 'cause you know I'm right." They stop at his car, and she smiles up at him, her eyes tired, but bright.
"The intensity with which you've immersed yourself in this medium is really starting to worry me, Noah."
"Yo, Inglés por favor. Puckerone no habla crazy."
"Liar."
"Drama Queen."
"Man Whore."
"...Berry, that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." He leans in for a kiss and she she smiles against his lips.
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