I'm Just Saying This To Wake You Up
Title: I'm Just Saying This To Wake You Up
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: Language. Fictable prompt #1 - Comfort
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: When your boyfriend is Noah Puckerman, comfort includes a bobby pin, a strawberry milkshake, rap lyrics, brutal honesty, and name-calling. But it's effective.
Word Count: 4,543
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Rachel doesn't get into the top two schools she applied to.
She gets into UCLA and the University of Miami, but not Berklee or Julliard. She knew Julliard was a bit of a stretch, but Berklee, she thought she had a good shot at. 80 per cent chance of getting in.
She didn't.
And UCLA and Miami are both far, far away from Ohio. Two years ago, she would have welcomed it.
Now, she's locked herself in her bedroom as she tries to make sense of things. She's waiting to hear from NYU and University of Illinois.
NYU wouldn't be so bad.
Chicago is close to home.
She doesn't know what she's going to do.
She's turned everyone away who has tried to help.
... ... ...
Mr. Schuester is worried when Rachel misses her second day of school - her second practice - in two days. Even Santana, who generally avoids Rachel unless absolutely necessary, asks where she is. Finn has tried to call Rachel, but she won't answer. Mr. Schuester left her a voicemail offering her a solo she'd never in a million years turn down, and she doesn't call back.
And everyone's asking Puck what's up. They all know about her applications (rejections). They're talking to him like Rachel hasn't kicked him out of her house four times in two days. Well, kicked out isn't exactly right. It was more like he talked through her locked door, listened to her cry, she told him to leave, he didn't, then he got pissed and told her he was out and she could call him when she'd stopped throwing her tantrum.
Yeah. So that's how that went down. He's a decent boyfriend most of the time, but shit. All this drama and overreaction? He didn't sign up for it.
"Why don't you try again?" Finn asks after practice lets out. "You gotta talk to her."
"It's true," Kurt adds. "As much as I'm enjoying the quiet, we have Regionals in a month and we need her."
"We can't win without her," Finn insists.
Everyone's literally standing in a circle around Puck. He feels like those kids he used to bully the shit out of.
"Guys, I've tried. she just needs to fuckin' have her freak out and then she'll be fine," he says seriously. "If she's still in her room in like, a week, I'll haul her outta there. I don't know why you're telling me to go anyway."
They each seems to look around at everyone else.
"Uh, dude, she's your girlfriend," Mike says.
"Exactly! I gotta deal with her all the time. Frankly, the break is pretty fuckin' sweet."
"You're a complete jerk," Quinn says. He pats her cheek lightly as he walks by.
"Later!" he shouts over his shoulder.
He hears footsteps running after him when he's halfway down the hall. "Dude," Finn says, stepping in front of Puck. "Come on, man. I know you're worried about her too. Just go see her. Or...I mean, I could go..."
Oh, fuck that noise.
Here's the thing: Puck knows Rachel loves him. She tells him all the time. No seriously. All the time. Like, a few times a day. And it's cool, 'cause, you know, he tells her too, like, once a month or whatever. They've been together long enough that she knows how he deals with his feelings. He takes her for a strawberry shake every Friday night because on their first 'official' date, a Friday, he convinced her the dairy and whatever wasn't going to be so bad since she didn't have to sing until Monday. So that kind of stuck. And yeah, now that's like, their thing. It's one of the ways he reminds her he loves her without actually having to say it.
Anyway, they're happy together, and he hasn't stepped out on her at all (and they've been together for over a year) and she's like, the most committed person in the world.
But Finn fucking Hudson is the one thing that scares the fuck out of him. He's never told her, though he's pretty sure that everyone (Rachel included) knows how he feels, but yeah, Puck sometimes gets this annoying fucking voice in his head that tells him that Finn is a threat. It's totally stupid.
Puck is not gullible enough to think that the glee club didn't just have a little pow wow and tell Finn to play this up. It was probably Quinn's idea, and since she can still scare the hell out of anyone she wants, Finn most likely didn't have a choice in the matter.
Well, Puck isn't going to let anyone else be the one to get his girl out of this shit. Nuh uh.
"The hell you are," Puck mumbles. Finn raises his eyebrow. Puck doesn't appreciate the dude stealing his move. "Fuck. Fine. But if you don't hear from me tomorrow, you should know that there's this little wooded area behind her house. Perfect for hiding a body."
Finn smiles and shakes his head. "She's not gonna kill you."
"You don't know her like I do," Puck says. (And yeah, that's just a little reminder. Whatever.)
"Let me know how it goes," Finn says as Puck walks away.
"Whatever, dude."
... ... ...
So he's smart enough to realize that it's Friday and he actually has a legitimate reason to go to her house, and he can take her something that'll get him some brownie points with her or something.
Those are always good. He fucks up sometimes and says or does the wrong thing.
Her dads aren't home, but the front door is unlocked and he's pissed at her immediately for that. As if she could do anything if someone just waltzed into her house. For such a smart girl, she does some stupid shit sometimes.
But she's got a lock on her bedroom door. Usually that comes in really, really handy. Right now? Not so cool.
He knocks at her door and he can hear the music coming from the room. It's the soundtrack to Rent. She's torturing herself.
"Rach, open the fucking door, okay? I'm sick of this. I'm starting to forget how hot you are. It's a damn shame." He gets no response. "I have something for you. And I'm not even being all suggestive or whatever you call it. Pervy. I really have something for you. Though, we're here alone, so if you want the sex, too, just say the word."
"You can go," she says.
Well, that's something, at least.
"Or, hey - shit, I'm a genius - we could use what I brought you during foreplay. It'd be fucking awesome. Kinda sticky and probably a little cold, but fuck. Delicious."
"Noah, just go home, okay?"
No fucking way. Now he's got these sexy images in his head. Leaving? Not gonna happen.
"Nope. And if you don't open the door, I'm going to drink your strawberry milkshake. And probably think about you naked while I'm doin' it," he says. He's leaning up against the door, and seriously, this milkshake smells amazing, and he knows that it'd be fucking awesome if he was licking it off her. Damn. "Come on, baby. Open the door."
"A milkshake isn't going to make this all go away. Neither are your vulgar remarks and innuendos," she says.
The music is turned up a little more, and Puck decides he's had more than enough of this shit. She can shut everyone else out all she wants, but she can't shut him out. And he knows that if he pulled this shit on her, she'd be camped outside his bedroom door on a fucking hunger strike or something until he opened it.
And shit. If she brought a milkshake to his place and suggested they incorporate it into sex, he'd have the door open before she finished her sentence.
So enough is enough.
One of the things he knows about Rachel is that anywhere she's ever been, there are bobby pins. It's fucked, because she doesn't even use them all that often. He's always finding them. There's a bunch in his truck and a handful wrapped up in a hair elastic on his bedside table. He found one in his pocket once, which was pretty messed up.
So he walks into the bathroom at the end of the hall that no one even uses in this house, and sure enough, there are three bobby pins sitting in a dish on the counter.
He pushes her bedroom door open and sees her laying on her bed in her sweats and one of his tee shirts. She looks awesome.
And pissed.
"How did you get in here!?" She sits up so she's resting with her hands behind her on the mattress.
He tilts his head and smirks. "You really think I don't know how to pick a lock?"
"I forget sometimes that you're a complete delinquent," she pouts, laying back down. She looks at him over her shoulder. "Can I have my milkshake?"
He smiles, raises his brow. He turns the music off and she rolls her eyes. "Can you stop acting like a goddamn four year old?" She pulls the covers up over herself again and he sits on the bed next to her. "C'mon, Rachel. You're freaking me out, baby."
He actually sounds concerned. He hands over the cup and she sits up a little and takes a sip.
"Thank you," she says quietly.
"Welc." He grabs the cup and takes a drink. She rolls her eyes. He always does that. Though usually he has a chocolate shake she can steal sips from, too. "You okay?"
She laughs a little and shakes her head. "Not really." He drapes his arm around her shoulder. He's not going to admit it to anyone, maybe not even to her, but he's missed her crazy ass. "I'm just so...I'm so mad."
Not what he expected. She uses words like devastated, heartbroken, absolutely dissatisfied with humanity as a whole! or whatever. Mad wasn't what he thought she was feeling.
"Why?"
"Because I should have gotten in!" she says. She turns to him and he tries not to focus on the way his tee shirt gapes on her, showing the curve of her collar bone. "I'm a perfect candidate, and my audition tapes were flawless. My written applications were exactly what they asked for! What...what more do they want from me?"
"I dunno," he admits. She hasn't opened up to him or anyone else about this yet. (And yeah, he called her dads to check. Whatever.) "Obviously, they're morons."
"Noah."
"Seriously. Why would you wanna go somewhere that doesn't understand how fucking awesome you are?" he asks.
"It's Julliard, Noah. And Berklee. It's not like some little program at some little school."
"You mean like I'm going to."
"No!" she insists quickly, crossing her legs as she looks at him. "No, that's not what I meant, and you know it." She takes a deep breath and he takes another drink from her milkshake. She doesn't even scold him. Weird. "I've been sitting here wondering what I'm going to do, you know? Do I go to L.A.? Do I wait and hope for NYU? What?"
He knows he can't tell her what to do. She won't listen and he honestly wouldn't really want her to. She should decide this on her own. (And part of the reason he's so into her is because she's fucking stubborn as hell and doesn't need him to like, hold her hand constantly.) But at the same time, L.A. is fucking far away from OSU, where he's going.
"I don't want you to go to L.A," he says. It's the first time he's said it. Even when she applied, he kept his mouth closed. She blinks at him. "You think I want to send you off to school with your ex-boyfriend? You forgetting that I hate Jesse? And 's'too far away. How the hell would that work?"
"We'd make it work."
"Yeah, because we've both got all the cash in the world for flights and whatever."
"How is it that you're making this about you right now?" she asks, grabbing her milkshake back from him and taking a long sip. He actually smiles. "What?"
"It's just good to see you," he admits. "I mean, not that I didn't like the quiet, because, babe, it was golden, but...shit. I'm used to having the silence filled by your jabbering."
"You're not making me feel better at all."
He rolls his eyes as she scowls. "You're not really telling me how."
She leans against him and he opens his arm for her as she rests her head against his chest. "I just want someone to tell me I'm good enough," she admits. She's cute when she gets all insecure like this. And he has a lot of fun easing those insecurities.
"Baby," he says, pulling away so he can look at her, "you're the fucking best."
She laughs a little. "I sincerely hope that one of these days you learn to express a sentiment without using rap lyrics."
He leans over and kisses her for the first time in two days. "Best I ever had," he murmurs. She giggles and sips her milkshake.
That he can make her laugh right now makes him feel like a fucking rock star.
"Well, Miami isn't exactly close either," she points out after a few moments.
"Yeah, I kinda don't want you to go there either," he says. She lets out a sigh. "Can't you just come to OSU with me?"
"Noah," she whispers, shaking her head.
"What? What's so wrong with that?"
"It's a small program, Noah. NYU would be better for my development."
"Fuck that," he says seriously. She's now looking at him like he's the worst boyfriend in the history of the world. But he's not. He's actually got a point. "You'd just be another chick trying to make it in New York. Dime a dozen."
"Are you trying to be a jerk right now? Because you're accomplishing it spectacularly," she tells him. He grabs the cup from her hand and puts it on the bedside table so they can actually have a serious conversation here.
"Look, you wanna be a big fish in a little pond, or a little fish in a big pond?" he asks.
And, no shit, serious as she's ever said anything...
"I want to be a big fish in a big pond."
He laughs and leans in to kiss her. "Of course you do." He looks down, reaches out to toy with the bottom of her shirt. "Is it so bad that I just wanna be around you?"
(She loves it when he says things like that, little flashes of vulnerability that remind her that he loves her, too.) "No."
"You know you're gonna kick ass wherever you go," he tells her. She sniffles a little bit. He's not sure when he stopped rolling his eyes when she cries. Somewhere along the line, it just stopped being annoying and he started actually worrying about her and wanting her to stop the tears. "Just stop freaking out, alright? You're gonna be fine."
She wipes her cheek quickly and covers his hand with hers. She knows all his moves. Playing with the bottom of the shirt generally quickly turns into him taking off the shirt. (And while she's intrigued by the idea of introducing the milkshake into their intimate activities, she's not exactly sure she wants it in her bed. What a sticky mess that would be.)
"Why can't I ever get anything I want?" she asks quietly.
"Got me."
She laughs a little. "I never really wanted you. You just sort of happened."
"Ouch," he mumbles. Fuck. He's trying to be all supportive and nice and shit, and she has to go ahead and kick him in the balls. What the fuck?
"No, I didn't mean it like that," she says, smiling at him. "Of course I wanted you. I just didn't have to pursue you as diligently as...well, as diligently as I thought I'd have to."
Yeah, It wasn't exactly difficult for her to get him to date her. Basically, he noticed her looking at him a little more, and she asked him if he wanted help with something for glee (he didn't) and when he said no, she got all pissy and he asked her what her fucking problem was, since she obviously had one. He expected her to launch into some speech about him not taking glee club seriously enough. He didn't expect her to yell at him, telling him she knew he didn't need help, but she just thought they could spend some time together.
He grabbed her and kissed her and she started calling him her boyfriend, and that was pretty much that.
(Apparently she had just wanted to spend a couple hours with him, see if the chemistry or whatever was all in her head or if there were actual feelings. She says him kissing her proved there were feelings. Hell yeah, it did.)
"I just thought my hard work would pay off," she sighs. She reaches for her milkshake again, plays with the straw instead of looking at him.
"Rachel, you're 18 years old," he reminds her. He knows he sounds annoyed. He kind of is. She takes everything to do with her music so fucking seriously, and it drives him nuts sometimes. "It's not like, the end of the world, here. Fuck. You're acting like your life is over, and it's starting to piss me off."
When she glares at him, he seriously considers getting up and backing away slowly, leaving her house before she can kill him. (Seriously, he knows that wooded area well, but he's pretty sure no one else would ever find him.)
"I'm sorry if my having to make a massive life choice and deal with the supreme disappointment of failing to get into the school of my dreams is an inconvenience for you." She says it all evenly, calmly, and he's seriously waiting for steam to come out her ears or something. "I'm going to accept the spot at UCLA and wait to hear from the others."
He's not a chick, so he doesn't feel things like shaking hands or breaking hearts or any of that shit, but seriously? UC-fucking-LA?
"Are you doing this just to piss me off?" he asks seriously. "'Cause you know I don't want you to go there and I just said what everyone in your life is thinking?"
Crazy eyes. Total crazy eyes.
"I don't care what everyone else thinks," she says, crossing her arms. "I was hoping you might be able to have a serious conversation about this, but..."
He holds up his hand and narrows his eyes. This shit is just getting out of control.
"Whoa," he says, cutting her off. "I was being serious. You're being a brat. You were accepted to two kick ass colleges and two more are going to come in. People would kill to be in your position. So don't sit here and pout and get pissed at me because I'm being honest."
He watches as she seems to process this information. Maybe he shouldn't have been so blunt, but fuck, someone has to get her to see that she's acting like a spoiled little girl. Calling her a brat? Bad idea. Totally true, but a bad idea.
It's really, really fucked up that what she does is like, launch herself at him and throw her arms around his neck. Her knee is like, this close to hitting him in the junk, but her lips are pressed right against his neck and she's totally not wearing a bra, so he can't decide whether or not to be worried. Well, it's his junk, so he's obviously worried, but then she moves so she's sitting on him, kind of, and her legs are locked around his waist, and all he can think is, hell yeah!
He doesn't know what the fuck he said to make her crazy about him again instantly, but he's not about to question it. He never really does when he gets things right.
"Thank you," she says, and she kisses the tip of his nose, then his cheek, then she hugs him again.
"Uh...Yeah. Of course," he says.
She laughs and pulls back a little, keeping her hands on his shoulders. His are on her ass, and no, he has no intentions of moving them, like, ever.
"Thank you for being honest." Her thumb moves over this spot on his neck that he fucking loves. "I needed to hear that. And even though you were being a complete jerk, you somehow managed to make me understand." He smiles. He's so awesome at this boyfriend stuff. Honestly, he surprises himself most of the time. "You're right. I have options. I don't have to decide today."
"Exactly," he says, like that was what he was saying all along. It kind of was.
Except he was thinking something more along the lines of, 'Don't decide today, wait for University of Illinois, and go there 'cause it's closest to me.'
Either way.
"But I'm not a brat," she says seriously. He grins at her and raises his brow. "I'm not!"
"Rach," he laughs. "Baby, you know I love your crazy ass, but you're definitely a brat."
She bites her lip (she so knows he's right). "But it's cute, isn't it?"
He laughs a little harder, pulls her against him (hands still on her ass; fuck, she feels good pressed against his lap like that). "Sometimes. Sometimes you just piss me off."
"Right now?" she asks, eyes all soft and hopeful and just begging him to fuck her.
(Yeah, he can decode that shit just by looking at her eyes. Those things are like, the easiest way to see what she's feeling, but shut up about it, 'cause it's not like he's a girl or anything, he just knows her or whatever.)
Fuck, she's adorable.
"You're good right now," he says, voice low as he looks at her lips.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and he seriously has to keep himself from groaning. She's been locked in her room for days and that means he hasn't gotten any. Not even making out. Not even a fucking kiss! Seriously, earlier was the first time his lips have been on any part of her in days, and that shit just doesn't fly.
And he knows she rolls her hips against his on purpose, so he holds her still and leans forward to brush his lips against hers.
"Noah?" He's too distracted by the fact that her hands are in his hair now to do anything other than moan in response. "Thank you."
"Said that already," he tells her. And fuck this. He's just gonna start kissing her and eventually she'll stop talking and let him get her naked. (As if she doesn't want it...)
"You made me feel better," she admits, holding his face in her hands. He slips one of his into the back of her pants so it's resting on her bare skin.
His grin has to be epic, because he watches her eyes darken and she bites her lip, probably because she knows he's about to say something sexual. (Of course he is.)
"I'll make you feel so damn good," he tells her, leaning in to nip at her lips. She smiles and he takes her bottom lip between is teeth, tugs it gently. "You know I will."
"Noah?"
He groans and tips his head back. He loves her, and he doesn't even hate listening to her talk, but sometimes he wishes she'd just shut the hell up.
"Fuck, baby. What?"
She slips her arm underneath his and her hand slides up to rest on his shoulder blade. "Can we finish my milkshake?"
He's got her on her back in one swift motion, then he's pulling off both their shirts, and she's giggling as he kisses her.
"I'm told you I'm a genius," he says against her neck. "I knew that would pay off."
"It was sweet of you," she tells him as she reaches over and grabs the cup off her bedside table.
He rolls off her a bit, takes the straw and drizzles some of the milkshake between her breasts, down to her navel, and his eyes are locked with hers as he leans down and starts licking it away.
"Sometimes," he starts, kissing her intermittently, loving the sounds he can pull from her, "I can't believe the shit you let me do to you."
Her hands are in his hair, back arching a little bit. "Sometimes I can't believe the things you do for me," she says quietly.
He stops, smiles, and moves back up so he can kiss her properly.
He can't really believe that, either, but whatever. She's his girl and he just wants to make sure she's happy or whatever.
Nothing wrong with that.
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: Language. Fictable prompt #1 - Comfort
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: When your boyfriend is Noah Puckerman, comfort includes a bobby pin, a strawberry milkshake, rap lyrics, brutal honesty, and name-calling. But it's effective.
Word Count: 4,543
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Rachel doesn't get into the top two schools she applied to.
She gets into UCLA and the University of Miami, but not Berklee or Julliard. She knew Julliard was a bit of a stretch, but Berklee, she thought she had a good shot at. 80 per cent chance of getting in.
She didn't.
And UCLA and Miami are both far, far away from Ohio. Two years ago, she would have welcomed it.
Now, she's locked herself in her bedroom as she tries to make sense of things. She's waiting to hear from NYU and University of Illinois.
NYU wouldn't be so bad.
Chicago is close to home.
She doesn't know what she's going to do.
She's turned everyone away who has tried to help.
... ... ...
Mr. Schuester is worried when Rachel misses her second day of school - her second practice - in two days. Even Santana, who generally avoids Rachel unless absolutely necessary, asks where she is. Finn has tried to call Rachel, but she won't answer. Mr. Schuester left her a voicemail offering her a solo she'd never in a million years turn down, and she doesn't call back.
And everyone's asking Puck what's up. They all know about her applications (rejections). They're talking to him like Rachel hasn't kicked him out of her house four times in two days. Well, kicked out isn't exactly right. It was more like he talked through her locked door, listened to her cry, she told him to leave, he didn't, then he got pissed and told her he was out and she could call him when she'd stopped throwing her tantrum.
Yeah. So that's how that went down. He's a decent boyfriend most of the time, but shit. All this drama and overreaction? He didn't sign up for it.
"Why don't you try again?" Finn asks after practice lets out. "You gotta talk to her."
"It's true," Kurt adds. "As much as I'm enjoying the quiet, we have Regionals in a month and we need her."
"We can't win without her," Finn insists.
Everyone's literally standing in a circle around Puck. He feels like those kids he used to bully the shit out of.
"Guys, I've tried. she just needs to fuckin' have her freak out and then she'll be fine," he says seriously. "If she's still in her room in like, a week, I'll haul her outta there. I don't know why you're telling me to go anyway."
They each seems to look around at everyone else.
"Uh, dude, she's your girlfriend," Mike says.
"Exactly! I gotta deal with her all the time. Frankly, the break is pretty fuckin' sweet."
"You're a complete jerk," Quinn says. He pats her cheek lightly as he walks by.
"Later!" he shouts over his shoulder.
He hears footsteps running after him when he's halfway down the hall. "Dude," Finn says, stepping in front of Puck. "Come on, man. I know you're worried about her too. Just go see her. Or...I mean, I could go..."
Oh, fuck that noise.
Here's the thing: Puck knows Rachel loves him. She tells him all the time. No seriously. All the time. Like, a few times a day. And it's cool, 'cause, you know, he tells her too, like, once a month or whatever. They've been together long enough that she knows how he deals with his feelings. He takes her for a strawberry shake every Friday night because on their first 'official' date, a Friday, he convinced her the dairy and whatever wasn't going to be so bad since she didn't have to sing until Monday. So that kind of stuck. And yeah, now that's like, their thing. It's one of the ways he reminds her he loves her without actually having to say it.
Anyway, they're happy together, and he hasn't stepped out on her at all (and they've been together for over a year) and she's like, the most committed person in the world.
But Finn fucking Hudson is the one thing that scares the fuck out of him. He's never told her, though he's pretty sure that everyone (Rachel included) knows how he feels, but yeah, Puck sometimes gets this annoying fucking voice in his head that tells him that Finn is a threat. It's totally stupid.
Puck is not gullible enough to think that the glee club didn't just have a little pow wow and tell Finn to play this up. It was probably Quinn's idea, and since she can still scare the hell out of anyone she wants, Finn most likely didn't have a choice in the matter.
Well, Puck isn't going to let anyone else be the one to get his girl out of this shit. Nuh uh.
"The hell you are," Puck mumbles. Finn raises his eyebrow. Puck doesn't appreciate the dude stealing his move. "Fuck. Fine. But if you don't hear from me tomorrow, you should know that there's this little wooded area behind her house. Perfect for hiding a body."
Finn smiles and shakes his head. "She's not gonna kill you."
"You don't know her like I do," Puck says. (And yeah, that's just a little reminder. Whatever.)
"Let me know how it goes," Finn says as Puck walks away.
"Whatever, dude."
... ... ...
So he's smart enough to realize that it's Friday and he actually has a legitimate reason to go to her house, and he can take her something that'll get him some brownie points with her or something.
Those are always good. He fucks up sometimes and says or does the wrong thing.
Her dads aren't home, but the front door is unlocked and he's pissed at her immediately for that. As if she could do anything if someone just waltzed into her house. For such a smart girl, she does some stupid shit sometimes.
But she's got a lock on her bedroom door. Usually that comes in really, really handy. Right now? Not so cool.
He knocks at her door and he can hear the music coming from the room. It's the soundtrack to Rent. She's torturing herself.
"Rach, open the fucking door, okay? I'm sick of this. I'm starting to forget how hot you are. It's a damn shame." He gets no response. "I have something for you. And I'm not even being all suggestive or whatever you call it. Pervy. I really have something for you. Though, we're here alone, so if you want the sex, too, just say the word."
"You can go," she says.
Well, that's something, at least.
"Or, hey - shit, I'm a genius - we could use what I brought you during foreplay. It'd be fucking awesome. Kinda sticky and probably a little cold, but fuck. Delicious."
"Noah, just go home, okay?"
No fucking way. Now he's got these sexy images in his head. Leaving? Not gonna happen.
"Nope. And if you don't open the door, I'm going to drink your strawberry milkshake. And probably think about you naked while I'm doin' it," he says. He's leaning up against the door, and seriously, this milkshake smells amazing, and he knows that it'd be fucking awesome if he was licking it off her. Damn. "Come on, baby. Open the door."
"A milkshake isn't going to make this all go away. Neither are your vulgar remarks and innuendos," she says.
The music is turned up a little more, and Puck decides he's had more than enough of this shit. She can shut everyone else out all she wants, but she can't shut him out. And he knows that if he pulled this shit on her, she'd be camped outside his bedroom door on a fucking hunger strike or something until he opened it.
And shit. If she brought a milkshake to his place and suggested they incorporate it into sex, he'd have the door open before she finished her sentence.
So enough is enough.
One of the things he knows about Rachel is that anywhere she's ever been, there are bobby pins. It's fucked, because she doesn't even use them all that often. He's always finding them. There's a bunch in his truck and a handful wrapped up in a hair elastic on his bedside table. He found one in his pocket once, which was pretty messed up.
So he walks into the bathroom at the end of the hall that no one even uses in this house, and sure enough, there are three bobby pins sitting in a dish on the counter.
He pushes her bedroom door open and sees her laying on her bed in her sweats and one of his tee shirts. She looks awesome.
And pissed.
"How did you get in here!?" She sits up so she's resting with her hands behind her on the mattress.
He tilts his head and smirks. "You really think I don't know how to pick a lock?"
"I forget sometimes that you're a complete delinquent," she pouts, laying back down. She looks at him over her shoulder. "Can I have my milkshake?"
He smiles, raises his brow. He turns the music off and she rolls her eyes. "Can you stop acting like a goddamn four year old?" She pulls the covers up over herself again and he sits on the bed next to her. "C'mon, Rachel. You're freaking me out, baby."
He actually sounds concerned. He hands over the cup and she sits up a little and takes a sip.
"Thank you," she says quietly.
"Welc." He grabs the cup and takes a drink. She rolls her eyes. He always does that. Though usually he has a chocolate shake she can steal sips from, too. "You okay?"
She laughs a little and shakes her head. "Not really." He drapes his arm around her shoulder. He's not going to admit it to anyone, maybe not even to her, but he's missed her crazy ass. "I'm just so...I'm so mad."
Not what he expected. She uses words like devastated, heartbroken, absolutely dissatisfied with humanity as a whole! or whatever. Mad wasn't what he thought she was feeling.
"Why?"
"Because I should have gotten in!" she says. She turns to him and he tries not to focus on the way his tee shirt gapes on her, showing the curve of her collar bone. "I'm a perfect candidate, and my audition tapes were flawless. My written applications were exactly what they asked for! What...what more do they want from me?"
"I dunno," he admits. She hasn't opened up to him or anyone else about this yet. (And yeah, he called her dads to check. Whatever.) "Obviously, they're morons."
"Noah."
"Seriously. Why would you wanna go somewhere that doesn't understand how fucking awesome you are?" he asks.
"It's Julliard, Noah. And Berklee. It's not like some little program at some little school."
"You mean like I'm going to."
"No!" she insists quickly, crossing her legs as she looks at him. "No, that's not what I meant, and you know it." She takes a deep breath and he takes another drink from her milkshake. She doesn't even scold him. Weird. "I've been sitting here wondering what I'm going to do, you know? Do I go to L.A.? Do I wait and hope for NYU? What?"
He knows he can't tell her what to do. She won't listen and he honestly wouldn't really want her to. She should decide this on her own. (And part of the reason he's so into her is because she's fucking stubborn as hell and doesn't need him to like, hold her hand constantly.) But at the same time, L.A. is fucking far away from OSU, where he's going.
"I don't want you to go to L.A," he says. It's the first time he's said it. Even when she applied, he kept his mouth closed. She blinks at him. "You think I want to send you off to school with your ex-boyfriend? You forgetting that I hate Jesse? And 's'too far away. How the hell would that work?"
"We'd make it work."
"Yeah, because we've both got all the cash in the world for flights and whatever."
"How is it that you're making this about you right now?" she asks, grabbing her milkshake back from him and taking a long sip. He actually smiles. "What?"
"It's just good to see you," he admits. "I mean, not that I didn't like the quiet, because, babe, it was golden, but...shit. I'm used to having the silence filled by your jabbering."
"You're not making me feel better at all."
He rolls his eyes as she scowls. "You're not really telling me how."
She leans against him and he opens his arm for her as she rests her head against his chest. "I just want someone to tell me I'm good enough," she admits. She's cute when she gets all insecure like this. And he has a lot of fun easing those insecurities.
"Baby," he says, pulling away so he can look at her, "you're the fucking best."
She laughs a little. "I sincerely hope that one of these days you learn to express a sentiment without using rap lyrics."
He leans over and kisses her for the first time in two days. "Best I ever had," he murmurs. She giggles and sips her milkshake.
That he can make her laugh right now makes him feel like a fucking rock star.
"Well, Miami isn't exactly close either," she points out after a few moments.
"Yeah, I kinda don't want you to go there either," he says. She lets out a sigh. "Can't you just come to OSU with me?"
"Noah," she whispers, shaking her head.
"What? What's so wrong with that?"
"It's a small program, Noah. NYU would be better for my development."
"Fuck that," he says seriously. She's now looking at him like he's the worst boyfriend in the history of the world. But he's not. He's actually got a point. "You'd just be another chick trying to make it in New York. Dime a dozen."
"Are you trying to be a jerk right now? Because you're accomplishing it spectacularly," she tells him. He grabs the cup from her hand and puts it on the bedside table so they can actually have a serious conversation here.
"Look, you wanna be a big fish in a little pond, or a little fish in a big pond?" he asks.
And, no shit, serious as she's ever said anything...
"I want to be a big fish in a big pond."
He laughs and leans in to kiss her. "Of course you do." He looks down, reaches out to toy with the bottom of her shirt. "Is it so bad that I just wanna be around you?"
(She loves it when he says things like that, little flashes of vulnerability that remind her that he loves her, too.) "No."
"You know you're gonna kick ass wherever you go," he tells her. She sniffles a little bit. He's not sure when he stopped rolling his eyes when she cries. Somewhere along the line, it just stopped being annoying and he started actually worrying about her and wanting her to stop the tears. "Just stop freaking out, alright? You're gonna be fine."
She wipes her cheek quickly and covers his hand with hers. She knows all his moves. Playing with the bottom of the shirt generally quickly turns into him taking off the shirt. (And while she's intrigued by the idea of introducing the milkshake into their intimate activities, she's not exactly sure she wants it in her bed. What a sticky mess that would be.)
"Why can't I ever get anything I want?" she asks quietly.
"Got me."
She laughs a little. "I never really wanted you. You just sort of happened."
"Ouch," he mumbles. Fuck. He's trying to be all supportive and nice and shit, and she has to go ahead and kick him in the balls. What the fuck?
"No, I didn't mean it like that," she says, smiling at him. "Of course I wanted you. I just didn't have to pursue you as diligently as...well, as diligently as I thought I'd have to."
Yeah, It wasn't exactly difficult for her to get him to date her. Basically, he noticed her looking at him a little more, and she asked him if he wanted help with something for glee (he didn't) and when he said no, she got all pissy and he asked her what her fucking problem was, since she obviously had one. He expected her to launch into some speech about him not taking glee club seriously enough. He didn't expect her to yell at him, telling him she knew he didn't need help, but she just thought they could spend some time together.
He grabbed her and kissed her and she started calling him her boyfriend, and that was pretty much that.
(Apparently she had just wanted to spend a couple hours with him, see if the chemistry or whatever was all in her head or if there were actual feelings. She says him kissing her proved there were feelings. Hell yeah, it did.)
"I just thought my hard work would pay off," she sighs. She reaches for her milkshake again, plays with the straw instead of looking at him.
"Rachel, you're 18 years old," he reminds her. He knows he sounds annoyed. He kind of is. She takes everything to do with her music so fucking seriously, and it drives him nuts sometimes. "It's not like, the end of the world, here. Fuck. You're acting like your life is over, and it's starting to piss me off."
When she glares at him, he seriously considers getting up and backing away slowly, leaving her house before she can kill him. (Seriously, he knows that wooded area well, but he's pretty sure no one else would ever find him.)
"I'm sorry if my having to make a massive life choice and deal with the supreme disappointment of failing to get into the school of my dreams is an inconvenience for you." She says it all evenly, calmly, and he's seriously waiting for steam to come out her ears or something. "I'm going to accept the spot at UCLA and wait to hear from the others."
He's not a chick, so he doesn't feel things like shaking hands or breaking hearts or any of that shit, but seriously? UC-fucking-LA?
"Are you doing this just to piss me off?" he asks seriously. "'Cause you know I don't want you to go there and I just said what everyone in your life is thinking?"
Crazy eyes. Total crazy eyes.
"I don't care what everyone else thinks," she says, crossing her arms. "I was hoping you might be able to have a serious conversation about this, but..."
He holds up his hand and narrows his eyes. This shit is just getting out of control.
"Whoa," he says, cutting her off. "I was being serious. You're being a brat. You were accepted to two kick ass colleges and two more are going to come in. People would kill to be in your position. So don't sit here and pout and get pissed at me because I'm being honest."
He watches as she seems to process this information. Maybe he shouldn't have been so blunt, but fuck, someone has to get her to see that she's acting like a spoiled little girl. Calling her a brat? Bad idea. Totally true, but a bad idea.
It's really, really fucked up that what she does is like, launch herself at him and throw her arms around his neck. Her knee is like, this close to hitting him in the junk, but her lips are pressed right against his neck and she's totally not wearing a bra, so he can't decide whether or not to be worried. Well, it's his junk, so he's obviously worried, but then she moves so she's sitting on him, kind of, and her legs are locked around his waist, and all he can think is, hell yeah!
He doesn't know what the fuck he said to make her crazy about him again instantly, but he's not about to question it. He never really does when he gets things right.
"Thank you," she says, and she kisses the tip of his nose, then his cheek, then she hugs him again.
"Uh...Yeah. Of course," he says.
She laughs and pulls back a little, keeping her hands on his shoulders. His are on her ass, and no, he has no intentions of moving them, like, ever.
"Thank you for being honest." Her thumb moves over this spot on his neck that he fucking loves. "I needed to hear that. And even though you were being a complete jerk, you somehow managed to make me understand." He smiles. He's so awesome at this boyfriend stuff. Honestly, he surprises himself most of the time. "You're right. I have options. I don't have to decide today."
"Exactly," he says, like that was what he was saying all along. It kind of was.
Except he was thinking something more along the lines of, 'Don't decide today, wait for University of Illinois, and go there 'cause it's closest to me.'
Either way.
"But I'm not a brat," she says seriously. He grins at her and raises his brow. "I'm not!"
"Rach," he laughs. "Baby, you know I love your crazy ass, but you're definitely a brat."
She bites her lip (she so knows he's right). "But it's cute, isn't it?"
He laughs a little harder, pulls her against him (hands still on her ass; fuck, she feels good pressed against his lap like that). "Sometimes. Sometimes you just piss me off."
"Right now?" she asks, eyes all soft and hopeful and just begging him to fuck her.
(Yeah, he can decode that shit just by looking at her eyes. Those things are like, the easiest way to see what she's feeling, but shut up about it, 'cause it's not like he's a girl or anything, he just knows her or whatever.)
Fuck, she's adorable.
"You're good right now," he says, voice low as he looks at her lips.
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and he seriously has to keep himself from groaning. She's been locked in her room for days and that means he hasn't gotten any. Not even making out. Not even a fucking kiss! Seriously, earlier was the first time his lips have been on any part of her in days, and that shit just doesn't fly.
And he knows she rolls her hips against his on purpose, so he holds her still and leans forward to brush his lips against hers.
"Noah?" He's too distracted by the fact that her hands are in his hair now to do anything other than moan in response. "Thank you."
"Said that already," he tells her. And fuck this. He's just gonna start kissing her and eventually she'll stop talking and let him get her naked. (As if she doesn't want it...)
"You made me feel better," she admits, holding his face in her hands. He slips one of his into the back of her pants so it's resting on her bare skin.
His grin has to be epic, because he watches her eyes darken and she bites her lip, probably because she knows he's about to say something sexual. (Of course he is.)
"I'll make you feel so damn good," he tells her, leaning in to nip at her lips. She smiles and he takes her bottom lip between is teeth, tugs it gently. "You know I will."
"Noah?"
He groans and tips his head back. He loves her, and he doesn't even hate listening to her talk, but sometimes he wishes she'd just shut the hell up.
"Fuck, baby. What?"
She slips her arm underneath his and her hand slides up to rest on his shoulder blade. "Can we finish my milkshake?"
He's got her on her back in one swift motion, then he's pulling off both their shirts, and she's giggling as he kisses her.
"I'm told you I'm a genius," he says against her neck. "I knew that would pay off."
"It was sweet of you," she tells him as she reaches over and grabs the cup off her bedside table.
He rolls off her a bit, takes the straw and drizzles some of the milkshake between her breasts, down to her navel, and his eyes are locked with hers as he leans down and starts licking it away.
"Sometimes," he starts, kissing her intermittently, loving the sounds he can pull from her, "I can't believe the shit you let me do to you."
Her hands are in his hair, back arching a little bit. "Sometimes I can't believe the things you do for me," she says quietly.
He stops, smiles, and moves back up so he can kiss her properly.
He can't really believe that, either, but whatever. She's his girl and he just wants to make sure she's happy or whatever.
Nothing wrong with that.