Back To Good
Title: Back To Good
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: Post-Bad Reputation. Minor spoilers for Laryngitis (the sneak peek.) Puck's POV, so watch out for his language and dirty mind. (You know you love it.)
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Summary: "I have generously decided to help you become a better person."
Word Count: 7,312
Disclaimer: Don't own Glee.
"I have a proposition for you."
Puck is damn certain that those words from this girl can mean only one of two things.
One: "I'm tired of being a virgin. Do the honours?" (Totally unlikely, but he's for sure thinking it.)
Two: "I'm about to say something you're absolutely going to hate, but I'll talk you into submission and you'll agree to it anyway, okay?" (He's still thinking about that first one, but he knows this one is what's happening.)
He just looks at her, and she does that little surprised thing where she shakes her head quickly and starts talking again.
"I have generously decided to help you become a better person."
He scoffs a little and looks at her doubtfully. "No thanks."
He starts walking away, because crazy eyes are totally about to come out and they creep the shit out of him while turning him on in a really weird way, and that shit's just not cool.
"You don't understand!" she says, scurrying after him. She lays her hand on his arm and he looks down at it like it's weird that she's touching him at all. (It is, plus he's still kinda thinking of how awesome option one would be.) "Look, you mentioned being concerned about your lack of restraint in terms of acts that make you appear to be..."
"English, por favor."
She looks surprised again. The irony of him using two languages to express that sentiment is not lost on her.
"You admitted that you don't necessarily want to be the bully everyone thinks you are. I want to help. As you know, my instincts are fantastic..."
"No, they aren't," he says, furrowing his brow. Girl's instincts are shit. She plows on as though he hasn't spoken.
"And I've had years of being on the other side of the coin, so I can show you how to hold back the next time you feel like straight-arm shoving someone into the door of the girl's bathroom so he falls inside and onto his behind," she says. Puck smiles. That one's always so awesome.
"Why would I want your help?" he asks, crossing his arms.
"Because," she says quietly. They're alone in the hall, and her eyes are all sparkly and shit. Kinda like just before he almost kissed her. (Twice.) "Because I know you don't want to be a brute any longer. You want to be seen as a responsible young man."
"I want people to stop accusing me of shit I didn't do."
She smiles at him and blinks all fast. "That will happen once you clean up your act and show everyone that you're really a kind man."
Shit. She just called him a man. That's kind of awesome. And a little hot.
And there's a part of him that thinks it's pretty amazing that she actually thinks he can do this, that she doesn't just write him off like everyone else does.
"So, like, what would I have to do?" he asks, squinting a little.
She seems to think about it for a second before going all creepyhugesmile on him. "Trust me."
And fuck him, but he can't say no to that.
----
She kinda doesn't talk to him for a couple days, so he thinks he's off the hook. But then again, she's dealing with the fallout of floppy-haired-boyfriend fucking off or whatever, so Puck figures she's got other shit on her mind.
And then on Friday, right before he sneaks past her and out the door, she stops him, calling his name, and he groans. So fucking close to a weekend of freedom, not looking around every corner to see if she's there, ready to tackle him. (Not that she fucking could, but whatever.)
"What are you doing tonight?" she asks. She looks between him and the door like she expects him to open it or something. He shoves it hard and she walks through.
"Well, nothing really, but I..."
"Fantastic! You're coming over."
His mind briefly flashes to last week and what almost happened (twice) in her bedroom.
"Look," he says, stopping and grabbing her elbow, maybe a little too hard. "Is this some weird fucking...like...filler thing? Just because doucheface boyfriend isn't around?"
"Jesse."
"Don't care. Is it?" he asks. For whatever reason, this feels important.
"No," she insists. "I really am just trying to help you, and phase one commences tonight. I apologize that it hasn't begun sooner, but as I'm sure you can imagine, Mr. Schuester, Finn and I have been working hard to rearrange our songs to accommodated Jesse's sudden departure."
He's just looking at her. It's honestly like she swallowed a fucking dictionary and there's a time limit on how long it'll stay in her until she like, explodes or something.
"Whatever. What are you making me do?"
"I'm not making you do anything. You agreed, if you recall."
"Yeah. Look, Rachel, you kinda freak me out a little bit, in a scary hot way, but fuck. I don't like just going into shit blind," he tells her. She smiles when he calls her hot. Huh.
"Noah, I thought we trusted one another. I trusted you to perform to the best of your abilities when I asked for your help with my song, and you did. Now you have to trust me."
And then she's off and scurrying towards his truck and he figures, fuck, why not?
Her dads never seem to care that he spends all this time (any time) in her bedroom, merely waving to Rachel as she passes and explains she and 'Noah' have work to do. It should probably annoy him more that she calls him that, but he doesn't really give a shit.
Then, once they're in her room, she pushes him into the bathroom and there's a split second where he thinks 'shower sex?', but then he notices the electric shaving thing sitting on the counter, and fuck that.
"Don't even fucking say it," he warns her darkly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Noah, part of the appeal of a young man is his appearance! And while there's a certain draw to the mohawk, I sincerely believe that you'll garner more respect if you don't look like a common thug."
"Rachel, you're fucking crazy. The 'hawk's the shit," he says, running his hand over it for good measure. And wait. Did she just say she dug it? "It's like, my identity."
"No," she says laughingly. "It's your hair."
"What if I told you to cut your hair?"
"You wouldn't," she says, crossing her arms, mimicking him. They're both too stubborn for this. He knows it. "I distinctly remember you telling me how much you love my hair."
Okay, so that's true.
"Whatever. You're not doing it," he says defiantly. He walks over and lays back on her bed, his hands clasped behind his head.
There are a few minutes of blissful silence, and then...
"What do I have to do in order to convince you?" she asks, and she's right there, standing in front of him, practically between his knees.
Well, that gets his attention. He kinks his brow and leans up on his elbows. "Dangerous," he warns her.
"I like to think you know my boundaries fairly well. So long as you aren't pushing them, I'm willing to compromise here," she says seriously.
He looks at her chest in her little blue sweater with the heart over her heart (on her boob, if we're being specific) and he thinks he knows what he wants.
"Let me touch them."
"Noah!" she gasps. He actually laughs. "Absolutely not!"
"C'mon, Rach," he says. He sits up completely and she doesn't back away. He takes one of her hands in his and brushes his thumb over her knuckles before looking back up at her face. "That doucheface you dated - "
"Jesse."
" - must have gotten to at least second. What's wrong with me gettin' a little of that action? Consider it back payment for you being such a tightass when we dated."
She seems to think about it for a second, and he's just looking at her, between her face and her chest. It's not like she's got all the boobs in the world (huh? that doesn't make sense, but is kinda awesome to think about...anyway), but he thinks, what the hell? They're boobs, and he wants to touch 'em. Just over the shirt. Not that he'd complain about more because, hi, he's not an idiot.
"15 seconds," she says seriously. "I'll time you. No more. Less, if you like. I mean, I know I'm not exactly endowed in the..."
She stops talking when he cups her breasts with both hands. He gets a feel for them, counting Mississippis in his head because he wants to get the full experience without being cut off. And then this happens:
She totally moans, and her nipples get hard when his thumbs run over them, and that? That makes him get kinda hard and think seriously? Can't we just make out?
And he thinks his 15 seconds are up, but there's no way he's letting go until she makes him. She takes a step forward and her hand runs over his 'hawk, and he closes his legs a little bit so their knees are touching.
"Okay!" she says, chipper, like she's not totally wet for him (he's gonna go ahead and assume). She tugs the hair at the back of his head (goddamn, that's hot, too). "Time to get rid of this thing."
So that's how he ends up leaving her house with a shaved fucking head and the knowledge that Rachel Berry's boobs, while pretty small, are definitely awesome.
----
Monday morning, even after he's decided he's gonna get it on with...(fuck. Marchina? Marichino? Whatever. He doesn't need to know her name) he's still in a pretty fucking terrible mood.
You know, on account of being thrown into a goddamn dumpster by a bunch of goddamn geeks on a goddamn power trip.
He walks up to Rachel, and she's smiling to herself as she putters around in her locker. "Hey."
"Good morning, Noah!" she chirps. But then her nose turns up and she looks at him and he's like, just waiting for the lightbulb to go on. "No offense, Noah, but most people shower before returning to the land of the living. I'm sure whatever depraved acts you perform on the weekend..."
"Listen," he says darkly, putting his hand over her shoulder against the lockers behind her. "I was just thrown in a fucking dumpster." Her laughing? Not what he fucking wanted. "Not fucking funny, Rach."
"I'm sorry," she says, doing her best to keep her face straight. "I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have laughed. That's very unfortunate and completely reprehensible, no matter who ends up smelling like garbage." He glares when he notices her trying not to laugh again. "And just how did you react to this?"
"I laid there for a minute and wished for death, then decided that I'mma try'n bang...uh..." Shit. Name. Name. "Mercedes!"
She looks shocked, disgusted and...and...jealous?
"Noah Puckerman, do not make me lecture you!"
"Uh...Isn't that what you do, like, all the fucking time?"
She pokes at his chest with her surprisingly sharp, pointy and painful index finger (son of a bitch!) and he looks at her like she's totally cray-cray.
"Do not go anywhere near Mercedes. Not only will she literally laugh in your face, but she deserves more than some fool who, of offense, reeks of garbage and only wants to sleep with her to prove some undoubtedly ridiculous point that makes sense to only him!" She's breathing all heavy when she stops ranting. "Why are you smirking at me like that?!"
"Because you, babe, are totally jealous," he says, leaning in a little further. She pokes him away again. (Seriously. Her finger is like a fuckin' steak knife, it's so sharp. Okay, maybe a toothpick, but whatever. That shit hurts.)
"I most certainly am not!" she states indignantly. "And need I remind you that you have a girlfriend? A pregnant girlfriend, who most definitely would not be happy about your intentions..."
"Okay, hold up." He puts his palm up right in front of her face and she pushes it away with a huff. "First of all, Q and I are totally fucked and hardly ever talk, unless it's about the baby, so I'm pretty sure we're like, two seconds away from being exes. And second of all, you are absolutely jealous."
She gets this adorable/hot/sexy steely look on her face and shoves him hard with the palm of her hand.
"I am not jealous. Part of your transformation, Noah, is going to be treating women with a lot more respect than you are, or you ever have. We deserve sweetness and honesty and romance, and Mercedes and Quinn both deserve better than you treating them like they're just for your use, then you can toss them away." He honestly doesn't know what to say, because she might, like, actually be right. "So think about that before you do anything with either of them."
She turns on her heel and walks away, and he really can't help it if he checks her out, because that was totally a hot speech.
And she's a fucking liar if she wants to say she's not jealous.
----
He doesn't fuck around with Mercedes. Mostly because she shoots him down so fast his fuckin' head spins.
And he talks to Q (like, actually talks to her) about what the hell their relationship is, and she ends up in tears, but it's totally not his fault (no, it really isn't). She asks him what he wants, and it feels like a trap, so he asks her what she wants.
So in one fucking day, he gets thrown into a dumpster, yelled at in the hall, shot down by a geek (c'mon, Mercedes may be a Cheerio, but she ain't popular), and dumped by his baby momma.
And it's all Rachel's fault.
This whole path to enlightenment? It's making him feel like shit.
----
He marches up to her house after school the next day (because she was like, permanently attached to Finn all fucking day long, which was annoying as hell and also stupid, because Finn will never get his shit together enough to treat Rachel right; but whatever). Basically, he's fucking pissed at her and he wants to talk to her about it.
Daddy #1 answers the door while Daddy #2 sits on the couch, and Puck walks in after he's invited. They tell him Rachel's upstairs and he kicks off his shoes, thanks them, and then heads for the stairs.
But wait. Did he just thank them for doing, you know, fuck all? Shit. What's that about?
If this is that personal growth shit Rachel's been talking about, it's fuckin' weird.
"Look," he says as soon as he's standing in her doorway. But then he realizes she's wearing only a pair of little (tight) shorts and a sports bra. Seriously. That's all. Well, and a headband. And shoes. But who the fuck cares about that? Shorts and a bra. "Whoa."
And here's the thing: He knows she's got a fucking smokin' body. He's touched it, felt it against him. There's no denying she's fit or whatever. But this? Goddamn. Her stomach is like, ridiculously flat, and her ass? Forget it. Not even right. Her legs, he sees all the time, but...
He might need to sit down.
"What are you doing here?" she asks in a panic, looking for something to cover herself.
He finds that he's really happy she can't find anything.
"I came to bitch you out for fucking my life, but...I'm easily distracted by half-naked girls." He smirks for good measure.
She rushes into the bathroom and walks out wearing a bathrobe. Like, a pink fuzzy bathrobe with ducks on it. Shit, she's cute.
"Stop your staring," she says seriously as she cinches the robe at her waist. "Now, what are you talking about?"
Honestly, he can't get the image of her stomach out of his head. And her boobs looked great in that tight top. She actually had, like, cleavage, which he's pretty sure is a physics miracle or something, but hey, he's not about to ask questions.
"Uh. What?" he asks. Damn his mind for being a permanent resident of the gutter.
"You said I've ruined your life," she says quietly, looking down, like it might actually hurt her to have him think that about her.
He doesn't know what the fuck's going on with her. With them. First, she totally lets him feel her up (and she likes it), next she's totally jealous of another girl he's trying to get with, and now she's all sad and stuff. Fuck.
"I backed off Mercedes," he says (just a little misleading, but whatever). "And I broke up with Quinn. Or she broke up with me. I dunno. Either way? I'm a fuckin' loser with no girl!"
"You and Quinn broke up?" she asks quietly. He nods and sits down on that little bench at the end of her bed. She walks over and stands in front of him. "I'm sorry."
He shrugs his shoulder and looks up at her. Is her hair always so shiny like that? "Whatever. Not like it woulda worked anyway."
"Noah..."
"Why'd you cover up so fast?" he asks. She isn't going to answer, he knows, he just doesn't want to talk about this bullshit anymore. "You look fuckin' hot, Rach. 'S'a crime to hide it from me."
"I beg your pardon!" she gasps, holding her robe tighter to her body. "I wasn't expecting a visitor. I was about to get an extra half hour in on the elliptical, since I had a chocolate bar at lunch, which I really, really shouldn't have. Empty calories. It was delicious, yes, but I..."
"Shut up for a second," he says, grinning at her. "Don't tell me what's his name didn't see you like this."
"Jesse never saw me prepared for a work out, no," she says.
"No," Puck laughs. "No, I mean, like...He never saw your body like this at all?"
Her cheeks flush red and she looks downward. Jesse certainly saw her in a little nightgown, but nothing less, and nothing as tight as what she has on. His hand had made its way beneath her shirt once or twice, but he never took it off her.
"I don't see how that is any of your business," she states, putting her hands on her hips and jutting her chin forward.
He smirks at her. "It's funny," he says. "You're so worried about what other people think about you, but you don't even understand yourself."
"What are you talking about?" she asks in confusion. She gets this little crease between her brows. It's pretty cute.
"I'm saying you don't even know how hot you are," he says, a little quieter than before. He reaches for the tie on her robe and she doesn't stop him. He tugs on it to untie it, and when he looks up at her, she's just looking at his face. He thinks she trusts him, too, or something, because she's totally letting him push the fabric aside. "Take it off."
"Noah, this is...We shouldn't."
"We're not doing anything. You're clothed. Take off the fucking robe," he says. He thinks she smiles a little bit before she bites her lip and shrugs off the robe. It pools at her feet, and he should not find that action so hot. "I'm not saying this just 'cause I've been with a pregnant chick for the last couple months. Your body is amazing."
"I do take great care in keeping myself in shape," she says. It's soft, and she's just looking at him, and he is proud of himself (no shit) for not touching her. His hands are sitting on his knees.
"Seriously, do you get what I'm saying?" he asks. His eyes rake over her cleavage (!), then down her stomach, over her hips, and she takes a step toward him. "It's kind of awesome that you dress the way you do. That way only dudes like me who've actually fucking looked at you can see how sexy you are."
She's blushing even harder now, the redness creeping over her neck and down her collarbone. "You can stop saying that. I know I'm attractive."
"I hope so," he murmurs lowly. He finally reaches out and rests his hands on her hips, letting his thumbs graze the skin just above her shorts. "You should be fuckin' proud of me, Rachel."
"Why?" she asks, laughing a little bit. She doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands. She eventually lets them hang at her sides, her wrists brushing his.
"Because I'm not throwing you down on this bed right now," he says, locking eyes with her. Her breath hitches. "After the week I've had..."
And then her hands are on his biceps and she's leaning over (cleavage!) and kissing his forehead. Damn, she smells good.
"This is progress, Noah," she insists, though her voice isn't nearly as insistent as it should be. "You're sitting here, alone in my bedroom and, admittedly, this is an extremely erotic situation, and I certainly have shown no restraint. I should have stopped you, but I didn't and yet you aren't taking advantage of that fact."
Yeah. What she said.
"Why didn't you stop me?" he asks abruptly. She's still got her hands on his arms, and he's still got his on her hips.
She shrugs one shoulder and looks down again. He's pretty sure that means she's looking directly at his crotch, but shit, he thinks that's pretty awesome too.
"Because no one else has really said those things about me before," she admits. He's pretty fuckin' baffled by that. Did he really not tell her that when they were dating? "And I like the way you were looking at me."
"'S'cause I wanna make out with you," he says. He holds back and doesn't say and then some. He thinks that's progress or whatever, too.
She steps away, then, and he most definitely looks her up and down. Her legs are ridiculous.
Shit. Does he, like, want Rachel Berry?
It doesn't really surprise him. That's the fucked up part. She's super hot (obviously) and she's nice to him and she's helping him, for whatever reason (he still doesn't fucking know why). He thinks maybe...Shit. Maybe there's a reason he'll only ever make an effort to 'change' (whatever) when it comes to Rachel.
"I gotta go," he says, standing up and stuffing one hand in his pocket.
"Oh. Alright." Is it just him or does she sound disappointed or something? "Are you sure you're okay? I mean, about the break up."
He shrugs. "I'm fine. Still gonna be around for the kid stuff. It's cool."
"Okay," she says quietly.
He doesn't know what he's doing, really, but he curls his hand around her waist and squeezes once before letting go.
As he's driving home all he can do is wonder if she would have let him throw her down on her bed.
----
When Puck starts dropping knowledge about musicals and great performances and songs through the decades, he knows he's been hanging out with Rachel way too fucking much.
But here's the thing. He and Quinn are still 'friends' or whatever, but it's not like they have epic hang outs or anything. Finn still only talks to him when absolutely necessary. Matt and Mike are two busy dudes who hang out when they can, but that isn't much. The rest of the glee kids are...well, the rest of the glee kids, and no thanks. Artie's cool, and they hung out once when they met up at the Sev and decided to play Gran Tourismo together for a while.
But really, most of his time is spent with Rachel. And that's not really weird, he supposes. Rachel's cool and her dads don't care if Puck hangs out in her room while they do homework. Yeah, she makes him do homework. It's like she's got magical powers. And the one time he refused and tried to get her to offer up her boobs as a trade again (what? It happened before, it could happen again) she told him that if he wasn't going to do his work, then he could just leave.
He did his work.
He chose to do work so he could hang out with her over going home and doing nothing. Totally messed up.
But yeah, they're in glee rehearsal one day and she's talking about putting together a medley of hits from the 80's for some performance Schue's setting up.
And then Puck says this; "If we're going '80's, we gotta use Toto," and he's getting looked at like he's a goddamn freak.
Rachel burned him a CD of her favourite Toto songs and other hits from the year Rosanna was released. Yeah. She's always doing that. His truck is filled with CDs of random music. He's pretty glad he doesn't have to drive people around too often, because he'd get his ass kicked for listening to like, Phil Collins or whatever.
"Noah, I think that's a fantastic idea," Rachel says excitedly from next to him.
Quinn just laughs. She's been on his ass for two weeks, asking what's going on with him and Rachel. Finn looks confused. Everyone else is showing varying degrees of shock.
Well, fuck them. Puck knows shit, okay? And Rachel helps him with that. Whatever.
They're walking through the parking lot after rehearsal and she's like, freakishly quiet. She doesn't even yell at him when he literally throws her bag into the bed of his truck.
"Okay, what?" he asks once they're both inside and he's rolling down his window. "You're too fuckin' quiet, there, babe."
"I've asked you at least thirty times not to call me that."
"Whatever. What's with you?"
"Nothing," she says. He turns to her. They're not leaving the parking lot until she talks. She lets out a sigh and turns to face him a bit. "I just...it's nice that you've changed."
"Uh. Yeah. That was the idea right? Operation Make Puck Less of a Douche," he says, smirking at her as she rolls her eyes.
"And yet you're still the same boy," she says. "It's admirable. And impressive."
"Glad you think so, babe."
She punches his arm as he turns the key.
And he thinks she's picking up some stuff from him, too.
----
They're in her bedroom.
On her bed.
And she's underneath him.
Wait. What?
So here's what happens: It's a Saturday, and Puck is bored, so he shows up at her house, which really isn't a rare thing, and no one (her dads) cares about him showing up unannounced. Especially this time, since her dads aren't home. And he actually has the courtesy to ask if it's okay that he's there without them around. She smiles at him like he's just given her a puppy or something, shakes her head and starts toward the stairs. He's not about to argue.
And the thing with Rachel is that she's more laid back these days. And yeah, he takes full credit for that. Full credit. She still gets all high strung sometimes and there are moments when he wants to recruit one of the girls to slap her across the face and tell her to calm the fuck down. But yeah. When they're just hanging out, she can be a lot of fun.
Like right now, when she's trying to convince him that he'll really, really like this Beyoncé song, and she's trying to turn the volume up even louder with the remote in her hand. He's trying to grab it from her, but she's a sneaky little one, so she's surprisingly good at keeping it from him. She stands on the bed and holds the remote over her head, and he just puts his hands on his hips as he stands next to her bed.
"Seriously?" he asks incredulously. "You think that'll stop me?"
(Really, the song's not even that bad. He just likes fucking with her, and her face is kind of red and her shirt is riding up since her arm is above her head. So there's that.)
"Just wait," she says breathlessly. "Just wait."
He doesn't know what that means, nor is he patient enough to find out. He hooks his hands around her legs, just above her knees and pulls her quickly, which makes her fall onto her ass on the bed with a squeal. He climbs onto the bed and grabs the remote before she can stop him, and it's then that he realizes that he's half on top of her and her arm is around his torso.
This just went from funny/mildly irritating, to totally hot.
He switches off the stereo and tosses the remote away from her and she laughs softly. Then his hand is on her hip, moving slowly up her side, brushing her hair from her face, and he feels her fingers dig into his back a little more. He's pretty sure she wants this as bad as he does. And he wants it really fucking bad.
His phone rings and she gasps a little, pulls her hand off him quickly and turns her head.
He moves off her (he can read signals; pretty sure the moment is gone) and pulls his phone from his pocket.
"Yo...Hey, man...No, just hangin' with Rachel." He looks over just in time to see her smile. She's sitting up now, combing her fingers through the ends of her hair. "No fucking way...You serious?...Shit. Okay, I'll meet you in 20...No, I mean it...Later."
"What is it?" she asks when he smiles at her.
"Only the most epic shit ever," he announces. She looks confused. "Fireworks."
"Noah!" she cries. "Fireworks are illegal! You can't! You've made so much progress, and you can't...You could be arrested!"
"No way. Cops don't give a shit about a few fireworks."
"They most certainly do!" she insists. She's standing in front of him now, hand on her hip.
"Come with me."
"Absolutely not."
"C'mon. You'll be fine. It's fun!" he says, trying to convince her with a sweet tone of voice and the smirk he knows sometimes makes her blush.
She looks at him with this glare that he's pretty sure could scare the shit out of anyone. "No," she says darkly.
Shit.
"But, Rachel!" he says, eyes wide (for effect only), grabbing her shoulders. "Fireworks. An opportunity like this never presents itself. Shit. I can't say no. I can't."
"Noah..."
"No!" he shouts, letting her go. "No. I've done everything you've fuckin' asked of me, which has been a lot, for the record, and shit...It's fine, alright? It's not so bad, this whole being a good dude thing. But this is fireworks we're talking about - "
"Which are illegal."
" - And I just can't resist the urge to light shit up and send it flying into the air. You can't tell me you don't understand how awesome that is."
Rachel takes a deep breath and lets it out in a huff. "While I admit that I'm quite a fan of the Fourth of July festivities and occasionally ask - nay, beg - Daddy to take me to the fairgrounds, I most certainly do not condone the procurement and recreational use of fireworks."
"Don't care. I'm going. You in or out?" he asks, crossing his arms.
She looks seriously pissed. And not in a hot way. More like in a 'we almost kissed and now you're leaving to do something I've asked you repeatedly not to do' way.
Shit. They almost kissed. Maybe she has a reason to be pissed.
"Out," she says, eyes locked with his.
He leaves without another word.
----
The whole time Puck is with Mike buying (awesome!) fireworks, he's worrying that Rachel is seriously, seriously mad at him.
She probably is.
And because she's taught him to be all nice and considerate and shit, he realizes he can't really blame her for it.
He gave up finally making out with the girl he's secretly kind of wanted to make out with for like, a month, all for some fucking fireworks.
He's an idiot. He hopes she knows he walked away because he's an idiot and doesn't think he doesn't want her. Fuck. That's probably what she thinks, that he just doesn't want her.
"Dude, I think I fucked up," he says as they're loading the boxes of (awesome) fireworks into the trunk of Mike's care.
"Yeah? What now?"
Puck does not appreciate the way people say that. He doesn't fuck up all the time or anything. But he knows Mike and he knows he doesn't mean it like that.
"Shit. I almost kissed Rachel, and then I left to come here," he says quietly.
Mike grins. "You mean you haven't kissed her yet?"
Puck rolls his eyes. Yeah, most people have just assumed that he's banging her, since they're spending all this time together. "Fuck off, dude, seriously. I just left."
"Isn't that, like, what Puck does?" Mike asks jokingly.
Puck does not correct his friend and say that yeah, that's what Puck does, but Rachel knows Noah. You know, because he's not a pussy and he doesn't want to be called one.
(Even if that whole thing's true.)
"I think I like her," Puck says. "Like, really. I mean, more than just wanting to sleep with her."
"Really?" Mike asks. He closes the trunk of his car and leans against it. "Huh."
"I know. It's fucked. What am I gonna do?"
Mike smirks and spins his key ring on his finger. "How does she feel about fireworks?"
----
He's pretty surprised she doesn't slam the door on his face when he shows up that night. She doesn't say anything (which is still totally weird) and she's just standing there in her jeans and sweater with this look on her face that's kinda blank and he doesn't really know what to think of any of it.
"Hey," he says. "Come with me?"
Yeah. He actually asks, rather than tells her.
"Why should I?" she asks.
"Because." He looks to the ground and then back to her. "Because I was a dick today."
She scoffs. "So I should subject myself to more of it?" she asks, one brow raised. "No thank you."
She tries to close the door, but he puts his hand out to stop her. "Wait! Wait."
"Noah, please, I don't have time for..."
"I shouldn't have left," he blurts out, interrupting her. "So, yeah. Sorry about that. And...about the other thing..."
"What other thing?" she asks, looking at him through her eyelashes.
He sighs and runs a hand over his head. His hair's growing in. He likes it. That's so not the point right now.
"Will you just come with me? Please?" he asks as nicely as he can.
She takes a breath and looks at him for a moment, then rolls her eyes. "Let me get my coat," she says, like it's some big inconvenience.
He's playing her favourite album of the moment in the truck, and he realizes she probably thinks he's just doing this to get her on his good side or something. Truth is, he's been listening to it for days, since he bought his own copy (shut up, it's a good album). She's singing quietly in the passenger seat and he likes this just as much as always, driving with her.
When he pulls up to the town's baseball diamond, she looks at him like he's nuts. He knows it's weird, since it's barely March and no one's actually using the diamond.
Which means it's prime real estate for setting off fireworks.
"Noah, what in the world?" she asks as he pulls her through the drivers side door behind him. "This is creepy!"
"'S'not creepy, babe. It's just dark. Come on." He grabs her wrist and pulls her along with him to the pitcher's mound, where he can vaguely make out Mike running around in the outfield. Puck brings his fingers to his mouth and whistles loudly. "Just watch," he tells Rachel softly.
"I don't understand."
She's no sooner spoken than there are sparks a hundred feet away and then there are fireworks going off. She jumps a little bit, startled, and Puck laughs. He realizes he's still holding her wrist, so he slips his hand down and twines their fingers together. In the glow of the fireworks, he can see that she's trying very hard not to smile.
They stand there watching fireworks going off (he's pretty sure she's listening for sirens or something, too) and she ends up holding his hand a little tighter, moving a little closer to him. When he knows the 'show' is almost over, he leans over and kisses her temple, which makes her turn to him and give him a strange look.
"Look, I know you're pissed," he says. "I blew you off for something stupid, and..."
"Actually, it was quite an impressive display," she says, smiling up at him. "I liked the green ones."
"Yeah, you did," he says proudly. "Fuckin' awesome." She laughs softly, and they hear Mike's car start, watch him pull away. "But I should have listened to you today, probably."
"It's not fair of me to ask you to change so much. It's not fair of me to have asked at all. I know I did it for the right reasons, but still. I shouldn't just assume that you..."
"Stop," he interrupts. "I'm trying to apologize and you're messing it up." She laughs softly and looks down. "Look, it's fucked up, okay? How everything's been going. Because yeah, you've totally gotten me to stop doing stupid shit, and the thing is, you just made me see that it was stupid, you know?"
"Well, the idea was that you should see the error of your ways," she says.
"Yeah. Right. And, you know, I did, sorta." Somehow, her other hand has ended up in his. "But it's been fun or whatever, too. Just hanging out with you and stuff. So, I dunno. Maybe in some weird way, it was like...for you, or whatever," he admits, shrugging his shoulder.
"So today in my room?" she asks quietly.
"It wasn't just 'cause I was on top of you and your hot little body was right there," he says. She's probably blushing. If it wasn't dark, he'd be able to tell. "But if I had stayed...I mean, your dads weren't home and if we'd started..."
She shakes her head and looks up at him. "Don't you get it?" she asks, stepping closer to him. He pulls one of his hands away so he can rest it on the curve of her waist. "You're not that boy. You wouldn't pressure me. And the fact that you're even concerned about that at all..."
Whatever. He's said what he needs to say.
He kisses her. It's pretty amazing, too, because she tastes like cherries and her lips are super soft and her tongue is fucking amazing when he opens his mouth for her.
Not a bad day. Fireworks and kissing Rachel.
When she pulls away, he still holds her close. She just feels really good there, in front of him.
"So you put on this fireworks show as a romantic gesture?" she asks, like she's impressed he'd even think about it.
And she's totally right, and they both know it, so he doesn't feel bad at all when he rolls his eyes.
"No," he scoffs. "I just wanted to remind you how awesome fireworks are so you understand why I can never give 'em up."
She laughs and kisses him again. "You're an idiot."
He shrugs his shoulder. There is far too much talking going on right now.
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: Post-Bad Reputation. Minor spoilers for Laryngitis (the sneak peek.) Puck's POV, so watch out for his language and dirty mind. (You know you love it.)
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Summary: "I have generously decided to help you become a better person."
Word Count: 7,312
Disclaimer: Don't own Glee.
"I have a proposition for you."
Puck is damn certain that those words from this girl can mean only one of two things.
One: "I'm tired of being a virgin. Do the honours?" (Totally unlikely, but he's for sure thinking it.)
Two: "I'm about to say something you're absolutely going to hate, but I'll talk you into submission and you'll agree to it anyway, okay?" (He's still thinking about that first one, but he knows this one is what's happening.)
He just looks at her, and she does that little surprised thing where she shakes her head quickly and starts talking again.
"I have generously decided to help you become a better person."
He scoffs a little and looks at her doubtfully. "No thanks."
He starts walking away, because crazy eyes are totally about to come out and they creep the shit out of him while turning him on in a really weird way, and that shit's just not cool.
"You don't understand!" she says, scurrying after him. She lays her hand on his arm and he looks down at it like it's weird that she's touching him at all. (It is, plus he's still kinda thinking of how awesome option one would be.) "Look, you mentioned being concerned about your lack of restraint in terms of acts that make you appear to be..."
"English, por favor."
She looks surprised again. The irony of him using two languages to express that sentiment is not lost on her.
"You admitted that you don't necessarily want to be the bully everyone thinks you are. I want to help. As you know, my instincts are fantastic..."
"No, they aren't," he says, furrowing his brow. Girl's instincts are shit. She plows on as though he hasn't spoken.
"And I've had years of being on the other side of the coin, so I can show you how to hold back the next time you feel like straight-arm shoving someone into the door of the girl's bathroom so he falls inside and onto his behind," she says. Puck smiles. That one's always so awesome.
"Why would I want your help?" he asks, crossing his arms.
"Because," she says quietly. They're alone in the hall, and her eyes are all sparkly and shit. Kinda like just before he almost kissed her. (Twice.) "Because I know you don't want to be a brute any longer. You want to be seen as a responsible young man."
"I want people to stop accusing me of shit I didn't do."
She smiles at him and blinks all fast. "That will happen once you clean up your act and show everyone that you're really a kind man."
Shit. She just called him a man. That's kind of awesome. And a little hot.
And there's a part of him that thinks it's pretty amazing that she actually thinks he can do this, that she doesn't just write him off like everyone else does.
"So, like, what would I have to do?" he asks, squinting a little.
She seems to think about it for a second before going all creepyhugesmile on him. "Trust me."
And fuck him, but he can't say no to that.
----
She kinda doesn't talk to him for a couple days, so he thinks he's off the hook. But then again, she's dealing with the fallout of floppy-haired-boyfriend fucking off or whatever, so Puck figures she's got other shit on her mind.
And then on Friday, right before he sneaks past her and out the door, she stops him, calling his name, and he groans. So fucking close to a weekend of freedom, not looking around every corner to see if she's there, ready to tackle him. (Not that she fucking could, but whatever.)
"What are you doing tonight?" she asks. She looks between him and the door like she expects him to open it or something. He shoves it hard and she walks through.
"Well, nothing really, but I..."
"Fantastic! You're coming over."
His mind briefly flashes to last week and what almost happened (twice) in her bedroom.
"Look," he says, stopping and grabbing her elbow, maybe a little too hard. "Is this some weird fucking...like...filler thing? Just because doucheface boyfriend isn't around?"
"Jesse."
"Don't care. Is it?" he asks. For whatever reason, this feels important.
"No," she insists. "I really am just trying to help you, and phase one commences tonight. I apologize that it hasn't begun sooner, but as I'm sure you can imagine, Mr. Schuester, Finn and I have been working hard to rearrange our songs to accommodated Jesse's sudden departure."
He's just looking at her. It's honestly like she swallowed a fucking dictionary and there's a time limit on how long it'll stay in her until she like, explodes or something.
"Whatever. What are you making me do?"
"I'm not making you do anything. You agreed, if you recall."
"Yeah. Look, Rachel, you kinda freak me out a little bit, in a scary hot way, but fuck. I don't like just going into shit blind," he tells her. She smiles when he calls her hot. Huh.
"Noah, I thought we trusted one another. I trusted you to perform to the best of your abilities when I asked for your help with my song, and you did. Now you have to trust me."
And then she's off and scurrying towards his truck and he figures, fuck, why not?
Her dads never seem to care that he spends all this time (any time) in her bedroom, merely waving to Rachel as she passes and explains she and 'Noah' have work to do. It should probably annoy him more that she calls him that, but he doesn't really give a shit.
Then, once they're in her room, she pushes him into the bathroom and there's a split second where he thinks 'shower sex?', but then he notices the electric shaving thing sitting on the counter, and fuck that.
"Don't even fucking say it," he warns her darkly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Noah, part of the appeal of a young man is his appearance! And while there's a certain draw to the mohawk, I sincerely believe that you'll garner more respect if you don't look like a common thug."
"Rachel, you're fucking crazy. The 'hawk's the shit," he says, running his hand over it for good measure. And wait. Did she just say she dug it? "It's like, my identity."
"No," she says laughingly. "It's your hair."
"What if I told you to cut your hair?"
"You wouldn't," she says, crossing her arms, mimicking him. They're both too stubborn for this. He knows it. "I distinctly remember you telling me how much you love my hair."
Okay, so that's true.
"Whatever. You're not doing it," he says defiantly. He walks over and lays back on her bed, his hands clasped behind his head.
There are a few minutes of blissful silence, and then...
"What do I have to do in order to convince you?" she asks, and she's right there, standing in front of him, practically between his knees.
Well, that gets his attention. He kinks his brow and leans up on his elbows. "Dangerous," he warns her.
"I like to think you know my boundaries fairly well. So long as you aren't pushing them, I'm willing to compromise here," she says seriously.
He looks at her chest in her little blue sweater with the heart over her heart (on her boob, if we're being specific) and he thinks he knows what he wants.
"Let me touch them."
"Noah!" she gasps. He actually laughs. "Absolutely not!"
"C'mon, Rach," he says. He sits up completely and she doesn't back away. He takes one of her hands in his and brushes his thumb over her knuckles before looking back up at her face. "That doucheface you dated - "
"Jesse."
" - must have gotten to at least second. What's wrong with me gettin' a little of that action? Consider it back payment for you being such a tightass when we dated."
She seems to think about it for a second, and he's just looking at her, between her face and her chest. It's not like she's got all the boobs in the world (huh? that doesn't make sense, but is kinda awesome to think about...anyway), but he thinks, what the hell? They're boobs, and he wants to touch 'em. Just over the shirt. Not that he'd complain about more because, hi, he's not an idiot.
"15 seconds," she says seriously. "I'll time you. No more. Less, if you like. I mean, I know I'm not exactly endowed in the..."
She stops talking when he cups her breasts with both hands. He gets a feel for them, counting Mississippis in his head because he wants to get the full experience without being cut off. And then this happens:
She totally moans, and her nipples get hard when his thumbs run over them, and that? That makes him get kinda hard and think seriously? Can't we just make out?
And he thinks his 15 seconds are up, but there's no way he's letting go until she makes him. She takes a step forward and her hand runs over his 'hawk, and he closes his legs a little bit so their knees are touching.
"Okay!" she says, chipper, like she's not totally wet for him (he's gonna go ahead and assume). She tugs the hair at the back of his head (goddamn, that's hot, too). "Time to get rid of this thing."
So that's how he ends up leaving her house with a shaved fucking head and the knowledge that Rachel Berry's boobs, while pretty small, are definitely awesome.
----
Monday morning, even after he's decided he's gonna get it on with...(fuck. Marchina? Marichino? Whatever. He doesn't need to know her name) he's still in a pretty fucking terrible mood.
You know, on account of being thrown into a goddamn dumpster by a bunch of goddamn geeks on a goddamn power trip.
He walks up to Rachel, and she's smiling to herself as she putters around in her locker. "Hey."
"Good morning, Noah!" she chirps. But then her nose turns up and she looks at him and he's like, just waiting for the lightbulb to go on. "No offense, Noah, but most people shower before returning to the land of the living. I'm sure whatever depraved acts you perform on the weekend..."
"Listen," he says darkly, putting his hand over her shoulder against the lockers behind her. "I was just thrown in a fucking dumpster." Her laughing? Not what he fucking wanted. "Not fucking funny, Rach."
"I'm sorry," she says, doing her best to keep her face straight. "I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have laughed. That's very unfortunate and completely reprehensible, no matter who ends up smelling like garbage." He glares when he notices her trying not to laugh again. "And just how did you react to this?"
"I laid there for a minute and wished for death, then decided that I'mma try'n bang...uh..." Shit. Name. Name. "Mercedes!"
She looks shocked, disgusted and...and...jealous?
"Noah Puckerman, do not make me lecture you!"
"Uh...Isn't that what you do, like, all the fucking time?"
She pokes at his chest with her surprisingly sharp, pointy and painful index finger (son of a bitch!) and he looks at her like she's totally cray-cray.
"Do not go anywhere near Mercedes. Not only will she literally laugh in your face, but she deserves more than some fool who, of offense, reeks of garbage and only wants to sleep with her to prove some undoubtedly ridiculous point that makes sense to only him!" She's breathing all heavy when she stops ranting. "Why are you smirking at me like that?!"
"Because you, babe, are totally jealous," he says, leaning in a little further. She pokes him away again. (Seriously. Her finger is like a fuckin' steak knife, it's so sharp. Okay, maybe a toothpick, but whatever. That shit hurts.)
"I most certainly am not!" she states indignantly. "And need I remind you that you have a girlfriend? A pregnant girlfriend, who most definitely would not be happy about your intentions..."
"Okay, hold up." He puts his palm up right in front of her face and she pushes it away with a huff. "First of all, Q and I are totally fucked and hardly ever talk, unless it's about the baby, so I'm pretty sure we're like, two seconds away from being exes. And second of all, you are absolutely jealous."
She gets this adorable/hot/sexy steely look on her face and shoves him hard with the palm of her hand.
"I am not jealous. Part of your transformation, Noah, is going to be treating women with a lot more respect than you are, or you ever have. We deserve sweetness and honesty and romance, and Mercedes and Quinn both deserve better than you treating them like they're just for your use, then you can toss them away." He honestly doesn't know what to say, because she might, like, actually be right. "So think about that before you do anything with either of them."
She turns on her heel and walks away, and he really can't help it if he checks her out, because that was totally a hot speech.
And she's a fucking liar if she wants to say she's not jealous.
----
He doesn't fuck around with Mercedes. Mostly because she shoots him down so fast his fuckin' head spins.
And he talks to Q (like, actually talks to her) about what the hell their relationship is, and she ends up in tears, but it's totally not his fault (no, it really isn't). She asks him what he wants, and it feels like a trap, so he asks her what she wants.
So in one fucking day, he gets thrown into a dumpster, yelled at in the hall, shot down by a geek (c'mon, Mercedes may be a Cheerio, but she ain't popular), and dumped by his baby momma.
And it's all Rachel's fault.
This whole path to enlightenment? It's making him feel like shit.
----
He marches up to her house after school the next day (because she was like, permanently attached to Finn all fucking day long, which was annoying as hell and also stupid, because Finn will never get his shit together enough to treat Rachel right; but whatever). Basically, he's fucking pissed at her and he wants to talk to her about it.
Daddy #1 answers the door while Daddy #2 sits on the couch, and Puck walks in after he's invited. They tell him Rachel's upstairs and he kicks off his shoes, thanks them, and then heads for the stairs.
But wait. Did he just thank them for doing, you know, fuck all? Shit. What's that about?
If this is that personal growth shit Rachel's been talking about, it's fuckin' weird.
"Look," he says as soon as he's standing in her doorway. But then he realizes she's wearing only a pair of little (tight) shorts and a sports bra. Seriously. That's all. Well, and a headband. And shoes. But who the fuck cares about that? Shorts and a bra. "Whoa."
And here's the thing: He knows she's got a fucking smokin' body. He's touched it, felt it against him. There's no denying she's fit or whatever. But this? Goddamn. Her stomach is like, ridiculously flat, and her ass? Forget it. Not even right. Her legs, he sees all the time, but...
He might need to sit down.
"What are you doing here?" she asks in a panic, looking for something to cover herself.
He finds that he's really happy she can't find anything.
"I came to bitch you out for fucking my life, but...I'm easily distracted by half-naked girls." He smirks for good measure.
She rushes into the bathroom and walks out wearing a bathrobe. Like, a pink fuzzy bathrobe with ducks on it. Shit, she's cute.
"Stop your staring," she says seriously as she cinches the robe at her waist. "Now, what are you talking about?"
Honestly, he can't get the image of her stomach out of his head. And her boobs looked great in that tight top. She actually had, like, cleavage, which he's pretty sure is a physics miracle or something, but hey, he's not about to ask questions.
"Uh. What?" he asks. Damn his mind for being a permanent resident of the gutter.
"You said I've ruined your life," she says quietly, looking down, like it might actually hurt her to have him think that about her.
He doesn't know what the fuck's going on with her. With them. First, she totally lets him feel her up (and she likes it), next she's totally jealous of another girl he's trying to get with, and now she's all sad and stuff. Fuck.
"I backed off Mercedes," he says (just a little misleading, but whatever). "And I broke up with Quinn. Or she broke up with me. I dunno. Either way? I'm a fuckin' loser with no girl!"
"You and Quinn broke up?" she asks quietly. He nods and sits down on that little bench at the end of her bed. She walks over and stands in front of him. "I'm sorry."
He shrugs his shoulder and looks up at her. Is her hair always so shiny like that? "Whatever. Not like it woulda worked anyway."
"Noah..."
"Why'd you cover up so fast?" he asks. She isn't going to answer, he knows, he just doesn't want to talk about this bullshit anymore. "You look fuckin' hot, Rach. 'S'a crime to hide it from me."
"I beg your pardon!" she gasps, holding her robe tighter to her body. "I wasn't expecting a visitor. I was about to get an extra half hour in on the elliptical, since I had a chocolate bar at lunch, which I really, really shouldn't have. Empty calories. It was delicious, yes, but I..."
"Shut up for a second," he says, grinning at her. "Don't tell me what's his name didn't see you like this."
"Jesse never saw me prepared for a work out, no," she says.
"No," Puck laughs. "No, I mean, like...He never saw your body like this at all?"
Her cheeks flush red and she looks downward. Jesse certainly saw her in a little nightgown, but nothing less, and nothing as tight as what she has on. His hand had made its way beneath her shirt once or twice, but he never took it off her.
"I don't see how that is any of your business," she states, putting her hands on her hips and jutting her chin forward.
He smirks at her. "It's funny," he says. "You're so worried about what other people think about you, but you don't even understand yourself."
"What are you talking about?" she asks in confusion. She gets this little crease between her brows. It's pretty cute.
"I'm saying you don't even know how hot you are," he says, a little quieter than before. He reaches for the tie on her robe and she doesn't stop him. He tugs on it to untie it, and when he looks up at her, she's just looking at his face. He thinks she trusts him, too, or something, because she's totally letting him push the fabric aside. "Take it off."
"Noah, this is...We shouldn't."
"We're not doing anything. You're clothed. Take off the fucking robe," he says. He thinks she smiles a little bit before she bites her lip and shrugs off the robe. It pools at her feet, and he should not find that action so hot. "I'm not saying this just 'cause I've been with a pregnant chick for the last couple months. Your body is amazing."
"I do take great care in keeping myself in shape," she says. It's soft, and she's just looking at him, and he is proud of himself (no shit) for not touching her. His hands are sitting on his knees.
"Seriously, do you get what I'm saying?" he asks. His eyes rake over her cleavage (!), then down her stomach, over her hips, and she takes a step toward him. "It's kind of awesome that you dress the way you do. That way only dudes like me who've actually fucking looked at you can see how sexy you are."
She's blushing even harder now, the redness creeping over her neck and down her collarbone. "You can stop saying that. I know I'm attractive."
"I hope so," he murmurs lowly. He finally reaches out and rests his hands on her hips, letting his thumbs graze the skin just above her shorts. "You should be fuckin' proud of me, Rachel."
"Why?" she asks, laughing a little bit. She doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands. She eventually lets them hang at her sides, her wrists brushing his.
"Because I'm not throwing you down on this bed right now," he says, locking eyes with her. Her breath hitches. "After the week I've had..."
And then her hands are on his biceps and she's leaning over (cleavage!) and kissing his forehead. Damn, she smells good.
"This is progress, Noah," she insists, though her voice isn't nearly as insistent as it should be. "You're sitting here, alone in my bedroom and, admittedly, this is an extremely erotic situation, and I certainly have shown no restraint. I should have stopped you, but I didn't and yet you aren't taking advantage of that fact."
Yeah. What she said.
"Why didn't you stop me?" he asks abruptly. She's still got her hands on his arms, and he's still got his on her hips.
She shrugs one shoulder and looks down again. He's pretty sure that means she's looking directly at his crotch, but shit, he thinks that's pretty awesome too.
"Because no one else has really said those things about me before," she admits. He's pretty fuckin' baffled by that. Did he really not tell her that when they were dating? "And I like the way you were looking at me."
"'S'cause I wanna make out with you," he says. He holds back and doesn't say and then some. He thinks that's progress or whatever, too.
She steps away, then, and he most definitely looks her up and down. Her legs are ridiculous.
Shit. Does he, like, want Rachel Berry?
It doesn't really surprise him. That's the fucked up part. She's super hot (obviously) and she's nice to him and she's helping him, for whatever reason (he still doesn't fucking know why). He thinks maybe...Shit. Maybe there's a reason he'll only ever make an effort to 'change' (whatever) when it comes to Rachel.
"I gotta go," he says, standing up and stuffing one hand in his pocket.
"Oh. Alright." Is it just him or does she sound disappointed or something? "Are you sure you're okay? I mean, about the break up."
He shrugs. "I'm fine. Still gonna be around for the kid stuff. It's cool."
"Okay," she says quietly.
He doesn't know what he's doing, really, but he curls his hand around her waist and squeezes once before letting go.
As he's driving home all he can do is wonder if she would have let him throw her down on her bed.
----
When Puck starts dropping knowledge about musicals and great performances and songs through the decades, he knows he's been hanging out with Rachel way too fucking much.
But here's the thing. He and Quinn are still 'friends' or whatever, but it's not like they have epic hang outs or anything. Finn still only talks to him when absolutely necessary. Matt and Mike are two busy dudes who hang out when they can, but that isn't much. The rest of the glee kids are...well, the rest of the glee kids, and no thanks. Artie's cool, and they hung out once when they met up at the Sev and decided to play Gran Tourismo together for a while.
But really, most of his time is spent with Rachel. And that's not really weird, he supposes. Rachel's cool and her dads don't care if Puck hangs out in her room while they do homework. Yeah, she makes him do homework. It's like she's got magical powers. And the one time he refused and tried to get her to offer up her boobs as a trade again (what? It happened before, it could happen again) she told him that if he wasn't going to do his work, then he could just leave.
He did his work.
He chose to do work so he could hang out with her over going home and doing nothing. Totally messed up.
But yeah, they're in glee rehearsal one day and she's talking about putting together a medley of hits from the 80's for some performance Schue's setting up.
And then Puck says this; "If we're going '80's, we gotta use Toto," and he's getting looked at like he's a goddamn freak.
Rachel burned him a CD of her favourite Toto songs and other hits from the year Rosanna was released. Yeah. She's always doing that. His truck is filled with CDs of random music. He's pretty glad he doesn't have to drive people around too often, because he'd get his ass kicked for listening to like, Phil Collins or whatever.
"Noah, I think that's a fantastic idea," Rachel says excitedly from next to him.
Quinn just laughs. She's been on his ass for two weeks, asking what's going on with him and Rachel. Finn looks confused. Everyone else is showing varying degrees of shock.
Well, fuck them. Puck knows shit, okay? And Rachel helps him with that. Whatever.
They're walking through the parking lot after rehearsal and she's like, freakishly quiet. She doesn't even yell at him when he literally throws her bag into the bed of his truck.
"Okay, what?" he asks once they're both inside and he's rolling down his window. "You're too fuckin' quiet, there, babe."
"I've asked you at least thirty times not to call me that."
"Whatever. What's with you?"
"Nothing," she says. He turns to her. They're not leaving the parking lot until she talks. She lets out a sigh and turns to face him a bit. "I just...it's nice that you've changed."
"Uh. Yeah. That was the idea right? Operation Make Puck Less of a Douche," he says, smirking at her as she rolls her eyes.
"And yet you're still the same boy," she says. "It's admirable. And impressive."
"Glad you think so, babe."
She punches his arm as he turns the key.
And he thinks she's picking up some stuff from him, too.
----
They're in her bedroom.
On her bed.
And she's underneath him.
Wait. What?
So here's what happens: It's a Saturday, and Puck is bored, so he shows up at her house, which really isn't a rare thing, and no one (her dads) cares about him showing up unannounced. Especially this time, since her dads aren't home. And he actually has the courtesy to ask if it's okay that he's there without them around. She smiles at him like he's just given her a puppy or something, shakes her head and starts toward the stairs. He's not about to argue.
And the thing with Rachel is that she's more laid back these days. And yeah, he takes full credit for that. Full credit. She still gets all high strung sometimes and there are moments when he wants to recruit one of the girls to slap her across the face and tell her to calm the fuck down. But yeah. When they're just hanging out, she can be a lot of fun.
Like right now, when she's trying to convince him that he'll really, really like this Beyoncé song, and she's trying to turn the volume up even louder with the remote in her hand. He's trying to grab it from her, but she's a sneaky little one, so she's surprisingly good at keeping it from him. She stands on the bed and holds the remote over her head, and he just puts his hands on his hips as he stands next to her bed.
"Seriously?" he asks incredulously. "You think that'll stop me?"
(Really, the song's not even that bad. He just likes fucking with her, and her face is kind of red and her shirt is riding up since her arm is above her head. So there's that.)
"Just wait," she says breathlessly. "Just wait."
He doesn't know what that means, nor is he patient enough to find out. He hooks his hands around her legs, just above her knees and pulls her quickly, which makes her fall onto her ass on the bed with a squeal. He climbs onto the bed and grabs the remote before she can stop him, and it's then that he realizes that he's half on top of her and her arm is around his torso.
This just went from funny/mildly irritating, to totally hot.
He switches off the stereo and tosses the remote away from her and she laughs softly. Then his hand is on her hip, moving slowly up her side, brushing her hair from her face, and he feels her fingers dig into his back a little more. He's pretty sure she wants this as bad as he does. And he wants it really fucking bad.
His phone rings and she gasps a little, pulls her hand off him quickly and turns her head.
He moves off her (he can read signals; pretty sure the moment is gone) and pulls his phone from his pocket.
"Yo...Hey, man...No, just hangin' with Rachel." He looks over just in time to see her smile. She's sitting up now, combing her fingers through the ends of her hair. "No fucking way...You serious?...Shit. Okay, I'll meet you in 20...No, I mean it...Later."
"What is it?" she asks when he smiles at her.
"Only the most epic shit ever," he announces. She looks confused. "Fireworks."
"Noah!" she cries. "Fireworks are illegal! You can't! You've made so much progress, and you can't...You could be arrested!"
"No way. Cops don't give a shit about a few fireworks."
"They most certainly do!" she insists. She's standing in front of him now, hand on her hip.
"Come with me."
"Absolutely not."
"C'mon. You'll be fine. It's fun!" he says, trying to convince her with a sweet tone of voice and the smirk he knows sometimes makes her blush.
She looks at him with this glare that he's pretty sure could scare the shit out of anyone. "No," she says darkly.
Shit.
"But, Rachel!" he says, eyes wide (for effect only), grabbing her shoulders. "Fireworks. An opportunity like this never presents itself. Shit. I can't say no. I can't."
"Noah..."
"No!" he shouts, letting her go. "No. I've done everything you've fuckin' asked of me, which has been a lot, for the record, and shit...It's fine, alright? It's not so bad, this whole being a good dude thing. But this is fireworks we're talking about - "
"Which are illegal."
" - And I just can't resist the urge to light shit up and send it flying into the air. You can't tell me you don't understand how awesome that is."
Rachel takes a deep breath and lets it out in a huff. "While I admit that I'm quite a fan of the Fourth of July festivities and occasionally ask - nay, beg - Daddy to take me to the fairgrounds, I most certainly do not condone the procurement and recreational use of fireworks."
"Don't care. I'm going. You in or out?" he asks, crossing his arms.
She looks seriously pissed. And not in a hot way. More like in a 'we almost kissed and now you're leaving to do something I've asked you repeatedly not to do' way.
Shit. They almost kissed. Maybe she has a reason to be pissed.
"Out," she says, eyes locked with his.
He leaves without another word.
----
The whole time Puck is with Mike buying (awesome!) fireworks, he's worrying that Rachel is seriously, seriously mad at him.
She probably is.
And because she's taught him to be all nice and considerate and shit, he realizes he can't really blame her for it.
He gave up finally making out with the girl he's secretly kind of wanted to make out with for like, a month, all for some fucking fireworks.
He's an idiot. He hopes she knows he walked away because he's an idiot and doesn't think he doesn't want her. Fuck. That's probably what she thinks, that he just doesn't want her.
"Dude, I think I fucked up," he says as they're loading the boxes of (awesome) fireworks into the trunk of Mike's care.
"Yeah? What now?"
Puck does not appreciate the way people say that. He doesn't fuck up all the time or anything. But he knows Mike and he knows he doesn't mean it like that.
"Shit. I almost kissed Rachel, and then I left to come here," he says quietly.
Mike grins. "You mean you haven't kissed her yet?"
Puck rolls his eyes. Yeah, most people have just assumed that he's banging her, since they're spending all this time together. "Fuck off, dude, seriously. I just left."
"Isn't that, like, what Puck does?" Mike asks jokingly.
Puck does not correct his friend and say that yeah, that's what Puck does, but Rachel knows Noah. You know, because he's not a pussy and he doesn't want to be called one.
(Even if that whole thing's true.)
"I think I like her," Puck says. "Like, really. I mean, more than just wanting to sleep with her."
"Really?" Mike asks. He closes the trunk of his car and leans against it. "Huh."
"I know. It's fucked. What am I gonna do?"
Mike smirks and spins his key ring on his finger. "How does she feel about fireworks?"
----
He's pretty surprised she doesn't slam the door on his face when he shows up that night. She doesn't say anything (which is still totally weird) and she's just standing there in her jeans and sweater with this look on her face that's kinda blank and he doesn't really know what to think of any of it.
"Hey," he says. "Come with me?"
Yeah. He actually asks, rather than tells her.
"Why should I?" she asks.
"Because." He looks to the ground and then back to her. "Because I was a dick today."
She scoffs. "So I should subject myself to more of it?" she asks, one brow raised. "No thank you."
She tries to close the door, but he puts his hand out to stop her. "Wait! Wait."
"Noah, please, I don't have time for..."
"I shouldn't have left," he blurts out, interrupting her. "So, yeah. Sorry about that. And...about the other thing..."
"What other thing?" she asks, looking at him through her eyelashes.
He sighs and runs a hand over his head. His hair's growing in. He likes it. That's so not the point right now.
"Will you just come with me? Please?" he asks as nicely as he can.
She takes a breath and looks at him for a moment, then rolls her eyes. "Let me get my coat," she says, like it's some big inconvenience.
He's playing her favourite album of the moment in the truck, and he realizes she probably thinks he's just doing this to get her on his good side or something. Truth is, he's been listening to it for days, since he bought his own copy (shut up, it's a good album). She's singing quietly in the passenger seat and he likes this just as much as always, driving with her.
When he pulls up to the town's baseball diamond, she looks at him like he's nuts. He knows it's weird, since it's barely March and no one's actually using the diamond.
Which means it's prime real estate for setting off fireworks.
"Noah, what in the world?" she asks as he pulls her through the drivers side door behind him. "This is creepy!"
"'S'not creepy, babe. It's just dark. Come on." He grabs her wrist and pulls her along with him to the pitcher's mound, where he can vaguely make out Mike running around in the outfield. Puck brings his fingers to his mouth and whistles loudly. "Just watch," he tells Rachel softly.
"I don't understand."
She's no sooner spoken than there are sparks a hundred feet away and then there are fireworks going off. She jumps a little bit, startled, and Puck laughs. He realizes he's still holding her wrist, so he slips his hand down and twines their fingers together. In the glow of the fireworks, he can see that she's trying very hard not to smile.
They stand there watching fireworks going off (he's pretty sure she's listening for sirens or something, too) and she ends up holding his hand a little tighter, moving a little closer to him. When he knows the 'show' is almost over, he leans over and kisses her temple, which makes her turn to him and give him a strange look.
"Look, I know you're pissed," he says. "I blew you off for something stupid, and..."
"Actually, it was quite an impressive display," she says, smiling up at him. "I liked the green ones."
"Yeah, you did," he says proudly. "Fuckin' awesome." She laughs softly, and they hear Mike's car start, watch him pull away. "But I should have listened to you today, probably."
"It's not fair of me to ask you to change so much. It's not fair of me to have asked at all. I know I did it for the right reasons, but still. I shouldn't just assume that you..."
"Stop," he interrupts. "I'm trying to apologize and you're messing it up." She laughs softly and looks down. "Look, it's fucked up, okay? How everything's been going. Because yeah, you've totally gotten me to stop doing stupid shit, and the thing is, you just made me see that it was stupid, you know?"
"Well, the idea was that you should see the error of your ways," she says.
"Yeah. Right. And, you know, I did, sorta." Somehow, her other hand has ended up in his. "But it's been fun or whatever, too. Just hanging out with you and stuff. So, I dunno. Maybe in some weird way, it was like...for you, or whatever," he admits, shrugging his shoulder.
"So today in my room?" she asks quietly.
"It wasn't just 'cause I was on top of you and your hot little body was right there," he says. She's probably blushing. If it wasn't dark, he'd be able to tell. "But if I had stayed...I mean, your dads weren't home and if we'd started..."
She shakes her head and looks up at him. "Don't you get it?" she asks, stepping closer to him. He pulls one of his hands away so he can rest it on the curve of her waist. "You're not that boy. You wouldn't pressure me. And the fact that you're even concerned about that at all..."
Whatever. He's said what he needs to say.
He kisses her. It's pretty amazing, too, because she tastes like cherries and her lips are super soft and her tongue is fucking amazing when he opens his mouth for her.
Not a bad day. Fireworks and kissing Rachel.
When she pulls away, he still holds her close. She just feels really good there, in front of him.
"So you put on this fireworks show as a romantic gesture?" she asks, like she's impressed he'd even think about it.
And she's totally right, and they both know it, so he doesn't feel bad at all when he rolls his eyes.
"No," he scoffs. "I just wanted to remind you how awesome fireworks are so you understand why I can never give 'em up."
She laughs and kisses him again. "You're an idiot."
He shrugs his shoulder. There is far too much talking going on right now.