Like Passing Notes in Secrecy 10/13
Title: Like Passing Notes in Secrecy
Chapter: 10/13
Rating: R
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: He's never really missed a girl before. He never cared enough, really, to miss anyone.
Word Count: 5,400
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Thanksgiving was always one of his mother's favourite holidays, so Rachel insists they host dinner at his house. She wants to make it as close to tradition as possible, so she says she's cooking and he's going to deal with it and she's not taking no for an answer.
The first night she's back, she brings over a turkey and a bunch of stuff she's going to need to spend the next day cooking. He tells her he's going to spend all night making it nearly impossible for her to even get out of bed in the morning, and she believes him.
Her fathers are coming over, and Rachel's never cooked a full turkey dinner before, and she's nervous about it. Noah doesn't make it easy on her at all, either. He spends most of the morning trying to lure her back into bed, and relentlessly flirts with her in the kitchen until she pushes a beer into his hand and tells him to go watch football like a real man. He glares at her questioning his manhood, kisses her hard and leaves the room. Hannah just laughs and continues peeling potatoes. Her fathers are coming in a couple hours and bringing pies and their famous mac and cheese, which she thinks Noah is irrationally excited about.
She laughs every time she hears him shouting at the television, and Hannah rolls her eyes.
"He's basically stupid, you know that, right?" Hannah says.
"That's not a very nice thing to say."
"No, whatever. I mean, I get that, you, like, are into him and stuff, but I don't understand why." Hannah shrugs her shoulder and continues chopping carrots, the next task she was assigned. Rachel smiles. She's not exactly just 'into him'. "You could do better."
"Hannah!" Rachel cries laughingly.
"You could!"
Rachel thinks about it for a second, about she and Noah, and Noah and herself as separate people. Yes, he's crass and vulgar and has all the emotional depth of a wading pool. He says the wrong things at exactly the wrong times, and sometimes he makes her so mad she thinks she could hit him as hard as she can and it wouldn't be enough. (Not that she'd ever get physical with him, but still.) He drives her to the brink of insanity, then says something so sweet or touches her delicately or murmurs that he loves her against her skin and she's forgiving him. And she's not the easiest person to deal with either, she knows. She's overbearing and bossy and stubborn, and sometimes she's still just the slightest bit of a prude, even after all these years of him corrupting her, or at least attempting to. She can be completely insensitive to someone's feelings if they don't serve her needs, and she can tell - he has a tone - when she's on his last nerve and he wants to scream at her.
She takes Hannah's hand and leads her to the table, sits them down. This is one of those times she wishes Aviva was here (there are a lot of those times) to explain things like love and relationships and how they work. Hannah isn't a small child, but she's at the age where dating means kissing a boy on the lips and holding his hand in the hall at school.
"Sweetie," Rachel starts. She sighs and smiles. "Maybe you're right." They both laugh quietly and Rachel presses on. "I'm sure there's some perfect, amazing, wonderful man out there who would buy me flowers every Friday and take me to dinner and be all those things they tell you you're supposed to want." Hannah looks confused. Rachel's going to lay this all out really simply. "Those men are boring." They both laugh again. "Your brother might be a complete heathen, but..." She bites her lip and can't believe she's going to say this to his little sister, of all people. "But no one loves me like he does, and I'll never love anyone like I love him."
They're words she's never even told him, doesn't want to for fear of what he'll say in return. They've said little things and made hints towards a future, but 'forever' hasn't ever been thrown around and she might as well have just said the word. Hannah doesn't necessarily look convinced, but Rachel's never been more sure of anything in her life.
"I still think it's weird," Hannah says. Rachel laughs and swallows the lump in her throat.
She wishes she could stay for more than four days.
... ... ...
He sits through dinner with her dads and it's awesome. She sits next to him and rubs his thigh under the table or holds his hand over it, sips her wine and blushes when everyone compliments her on the amazing meal she made. She says Hannah was a huge help, but he knows it's bullshit because Rachel basically did all the big stuff. Everything's perfect and there's this moment when he honestly thinks this might be the first of a lot of Thanksgivings like this. He's been in a shitty mood all day because his mom isn't here, but Rachel makes that better and he doesn't know why that even surprises him anymore; she's been doing it for years.
He and her dads clean up the kitchen while she and Hannah go watch some Taylor Swift special on TV or something. He doesn't get why practically every girl ever made is obsessed with that chick, regardless of age, but whatever. He lets them do their thing and sips scotch with her dads while they take twice as long as normal to clean the kitchen.
The thing is, he feels like they kind of love him. Not, like, in a weird way or anything, they just like him for Rachel. Granted, he's a way better guy than he was in high school or even when they first started fucking around before college. He's grown up a whole lot in the past few years and her dads totally see that. One of them makes a comment about how happy Rachel is when she's around him, and he kind of wants to puff up with pride, because he loves doing that for her like she does it with him. Maybe that's why they're so good together; they're just happier with one another than they are with anyone else.
And you know what? He'd totally feel like a jerkoff thinking like that if he hadn't overheard her talking to his sister in the kitchen this afternoon.
Yeah, he could just let that sit with him and not make a big thing of it, but then he's laying in bed with Rachel and she's got her laptop open on her knees as she checks her email or facebook or whatever. He's playing guitar and she's smiling at him when he plays something she likes, and he can't keep it to himself anymore.
"Heard you today," he says casually. "With Han."
She blushes red and closes her eyes. "Oh."
He puts his guitar down and leans over to kiss her shoulder, up her neck. He nibbles on her ear and kisses her jaw before he says, "It's not weird," like a promise and she lets out a quiet laugh. "Just stop being such a girl about it."
She laughs harder and closes her computer, which is basically what he was going for in the first place. He takes it from her and sets it on his desk because she likes to keep it there since it's safer further away from the bed (fuck yeah, it is). He's trying to kiss her, but she puts her hand on his chest and the other on his face and makes him look her right in the eye as he settles himself half on top of her.
"Noah," she whispers. When she talks again her voice is a little bit louder. "I just...I want you to know how much I really love you. Because I do," she says eagerly. "I love you so...I never thought I could this much."
He furrows his brow. He hates that his first instinct is to ask what she did wrong and why she's sucking up, but the way she's looking at him says that maybe she really does just want him to know.
"Where's this coming from?" he asks.
She shrugs one shoulder and draws him a little closer. "It's just the truth."
It's true for him, too, but it's not like he's gonna actually say that to her. He just nods and kisses her and hopes she understands what he means.
And it'd be really great if his heart would stop fucking around in his chest and just calm the hell down.
... ... ...
She's gone on more auditions than she wants to admit.
Well, than she has admitted.
She can't tell her fathers because they'll 'comfort' her with trite words and clichés about how her time will come and anything could happen any day, and it just takes one person to hear her sing and love her and she'll have her name in lights.
She's starting to resent them for always telling her those things, all her life, and it's not fair to them. It's not fair to her, though, to be nearly 23 and realizing that maybe she's not the most talented person in New York and maybe she won't just be a star and win a Tony and sing on stage with Sean Hayes someday.
She's crying after another rejection (the third in the past two weeks) and Noah's calling her. She ignores the phone and he texts. She can't blame him for being persistent, since she really doesn't ever ignore his calls and she'd told him she'd be home. All his text says is 'You ok?' and she loves him for assuming she's not.
She doesn't call him back until she's calmed down enough to not sound like a complete wreck. She asks about his day and he mentions school being rough on him but he's managing and he turned in the paper he's been working on. Hannah is good and her dads stopped in this evening for dinner. She smiles. She loves that they're all kind of a family.
She just hates that she's excluded from so many of the things they do.
She starts crying again and she knows he doesn't have any kind of clue as to why.
"Do you love me?" she asks. She sounds needy and desperate, which is okay because that's how she feels.
"What? Yeah. Rachel, what the hell?"
"Nothing. I just needed to hear it from you," she says.
From anyone.
"Baby, come on. I know you. What's going on?" he asks. She wipes the tears away from her cheeks but doesn't say anything.
"Sometimes...I'm just having a really bad day, I guess," she admits. She knows she should tell him about the auditions and the rejections and the fact that she feels like she's going nowhere and doesn't know how to turn it around.
"Sorry," he says. "You want me to do something?"
She closes her eyes and sinks back into her mattress. "Tell me I'm the best," she says, a smile on her face.
"Best at what?"
"Noah!" she cries, a definite whine in her voice. "At everything."
He chuckles and the sound of it makes her smile wider than it should. "You are, Rach. You are the best at everything."
"Now you're just saying that," she pouts.
"Am not." She thinks she hears his belt buckle opening, and she rolls her eyes even if she's biting her lip. "I mean it."
She believes him, even if she shouldn't. She doesn't know if he'd ever lie to her about it, but it's pretty trivial anyway, and the other thing she made him say earlier is more important anyway.
At the end of their conversation he seems reluctant to hang up.
"You sure you're okay?" he asks seriously. "'Cause you don't seem like yourself and it's freaking me out."
"I guess I just try to hide these days from you," she admits. It's the truth. She doesn't usually let on anything's really bothering her. Not big things like this anyway.
"Why?"
"You have more important issues to worry about than whether or not I have a rough day," she says. She hears him scoff and she doesn't know why.
"That's bullshit," he spits at her. "Fucking tell me these things."
"Noah."
"No. That's stupid. You know how much you do for me? You...Fuck, Rach. Sometimes I feel like you don't even need me."
She has no idea what to say to that, because he's an idiot if he honestly thinks that. And if he does, he's incredibly stupid for ever saying that to her. He's wrong and most days she doesn't know how she'd even function without him. He's practically the biggest part of her, and she's questioning herself, wondering why he doesn't know and understand that, how she hasn't shown him that over the years.
"I do," she insists. "You're stupid if you think I don't."
"You just do your own thing out there and I stay here and wait for you to fuckin' call me and tell me I'm doing a good thing here," he admits. "You know how...I hate that. I just wanna do something for you, Rachel."
She can probably count on one hand the amount of times she's ever heard him speak so candidly.
"What do you think you're doing right now?" she asks quietly. He's just breathing into the phone and she wishes she was with him. She loves everything so much more when she's with him. "Hearing you say all that is the best thing that's happened to me all day."
She can hear him smiling when he mumbles, "Whatever," and they stay on the phone even longer, until she has to go to bed so she can be up for work in the morning.
She still doesn't tell him about the auditions, but maybe that's because they just seem a little less important now.
... ... ...
The truth is, he's worried about her. It's not anything new, really, worrying about her. It's just more now. She sounds different on the phone when he can reach her, and sometimes she's too tired to even talk. Or at least that's what she says. Obviously he knows there's no one else, or anything dumb like that, but he knows there's something up with her that she's not saying.
He knows it's harder for her this year, because a lot of her friends left New York and went back to where they came from or moved onto other cities. The other friends she had are now her competition, and judging from some of the stories she's told him they're a bunch of bitches too. She tells him about one of them not letting her know the call time for an open audition had changed, even though Rachel told the chick about that audition in the first place.
He knows she hates her job. She didn't major in theater and graduate with honours so she could sell tickets to shows she's talented enough to be in. It's not fair to her and he can't blame her for hating it. She doesn't want to dress in business clothes and go to an office and talk on the phone to rich people who should be buying tickets to see her, but aren't. It's just hard to talk to her sometimes because she sounds so fucking sad and he hates it when she's like that.
She comes home for the holidays and doesn't even go to her dads' place. He picks her up from the airport and takes her straight to his house, and her suitcase ends up on his bedroom floor where it's been almost every time she's come home for the past couple years. It just belongs there and there's not even a question anymore. Her dads totally understand and make jokes about working out a schedule to see her or whatever.
The first night, Hannah's at a friend's house (he totally didn't even plan that shit, either) and Rachel's sitting between his legs on the couch with her back to his chest. He loves these skinny jeans she's wearing and the red sweater she's got on, even if it is a turtleneck and she's not showing enough skin. Her hair's all up and messy, though, and she's rocking the whole sexy librarian thing, which he most definitely approves of. Plus, she's, you know, between his legs and they're watching Blue Bloods and he kinda loves this show, so it's not at all a bad scene.
"Would you still love me if I wasn't a singer?" she asks out of nowhere after Donnie Wahlberg goes all bad cop on some jackass.
"What?" he asks, mostly because this is random and stuff.
She sits up and turns so she can look at him, tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and he's still pretty confused. "I just need to know."
He furrows his brow a little more, but nods and says, "Yeah, baby. What the hell?"
She sighs and looks down, and when she looks back at him there are tears in her eyes and he hates it, this Rachel. He wants his Rachel back. His Rachel wouldn't ever doubt that everyone in the fucking universe loved her. This Rachel is doubting that even he does, which is just about the most fucked up thing he's ever seen.
"I don't know if I'm ever going to be...Noah, what if I don't make it?"
She's looking at him with these wide, shiny, teary eyes, and she honestly thinks it's something like the end of the world if she's not singing and dancing on Broadway within the next year.
Goddamn, she could be a hotel maid and he'd still love her. Kind of a given at this point that he doesn't give a shit what she does.
"Rach, you don't have to make it."
As soon as he's said it, he realizes what he's done and she's crying harder, and he wonders for a second if he's ever met her at all, because that shit was completely the wrong thing to say. She stands up and brushes at her cheeks, and whatever, he checks out her stomach where her sweater rides up.
"Yes, I do!" she shouts.
Right. They're having a 'conversation'.
"No, that's not...I didn't mean it like that." He grabs her wrist and tugs her back down onto the couch. She's only home for five days this time, because of her stupid job, and her not being in direct contact with him at all times is basically the worst thing ever. "I just meant it doesn't matter to me." She narrows her eyes. "Fuck! No, it matters. It does. I mean you can be whatever you want to be and I'll be here."
Then, because she's not fucking random enough, she gets onto her knees between his legs, leans down and kisses him.
"Thank you."
"Okay, what the hell?" he asks, because he needs to know where all this is coming from.
She bites her lip and avoids his eyes and he braces himself for what's coming, because he knows this face and it always means she's kept something from him and is about to spill.
"I haven't been entirely honest about..." She stops, sniffles and looks at him. "I'm trying so hard, Noah, and no one wants me."
He puts the pieces together pretty quickly, slips his hand into her hair and pulls her down on top of him. She cries against him for a few minutes and he doesn't really know what to do to get her to stop, but he really wants her to.
"I do," he promises, lips brushing her temple. "I want you."
She kisses him and he knows that means as much to her as he wanted it to.
... ... ...
She ends up telling him everything the next day. She gives him a shortlist of the shows she's auditioned for, and the multitude of ways she's been rejected and let down. He almost becomes irate when she tells him someone told her to drop 10 pounds. ("You're fucking perfect, Rachel, and those fuckers don't even know what they're doing!") She tells him her job is sucking the life from her and he tells her she should do open mics or something, just to be in front of an audience. He tells her she 'lives for that shit' and maybe he's right.
"I wish I had you to accompany me," she says, smiling at him. It's difficult when she feels so terrible about herself and he looks so mad about it. He grunts something and doesn't acknowledge it any further than that. She bites her lip and looks at him. "You know, New York would be better if you were there."
He glances at her. "Rachel."
He knows her well enough, she supposes, that he knows what she's getting at.
"I know. You...You can't come and be with me," she says sadly. It shouldn't hurt to say it out loud, not when she's known it all along. He runs his fingers through her hair. "I just love being with you, that's all."
A tear slips down her cheek because she knows they're coming up to some kind of crossroads in their relationship. There's no turning back now, obviously, but she doesn't know how they'll be together if they can't even live in the same place. And there's nothing in Lima for her. She'd have to go back to school and take a second major, and she doesn't want to do that. She's a performer and that's what she wants to do. Lima Community Theater would be happy to have her, but she'd hate them all and resent every single second of it. She can't live that life. She's cut out for more and they all know it.
Noah is, too, he just has these things to take care of first. Like his sister. Rachel loves Hannah and would never, ever want anything bad to happen to her, and Noah is doing an amazing job, considering it shouldn't be his job in the first place. She'd never ask him to uproot Hannah, but that doesn't mean she can't want it, does it?
"What are we going to do?" she asks.
"I dunno. We'll figure it out."
That's not a good enough answer for her, and she pulls away from him and looks at him incredulously. "You know, at some point, Noah, you're actually going to have to work out a plan. You can't just take it as it comes and hope for the best!"
She gets up when she sees how mad he is already, and she watches his jaw clench and unclench as he grinds his teeth. She hates it when he does that. She knows she's crossed a line, but she doesn't need him to be so angry about it.
"That's kinda all I can do right now, Rachel, and you fucking know that," he tells her.
It's true, to an extent, but it's also not true at all. At this rate it's going to take him another year to finish his major. That's fine, but he's always saying he doesn't make enough money, and that he wants more hours at work. Well, he'd have full time hours if he finished his program, and they'd pay him more, too. If he could somehow work in another credit or...
She doesn't know. She just knows she wants more for him than just working to make ends meet. He's better than that. She's always thought so.
Then again, maybe she's being a hypocrite. The difference is she's trying.
"I'm going to go before one of us says something they can't take back," she says quietly. She heads for the stairs and he's right behind her.
"Where're you going?"
"My dads', I guess."
"Rachel, wait," he says gruffly, grabbing her arm. He pushes her against the wall gently and she looks up at him. She knows he doesn't want to fight with her either. They're both stressed and worrying about these very issues. They've always had a hard time discussing these types of things, the things that really bother them. "Don't."
"Noah, I can't stay here and argue with you. All I did was mention that I'd be happier if I was with you all the time," she points out. "I didn't ask you to move to New York."
"I know that," he says, rolling his eyes. "But I'm not the only one who could move."
She gives him the coldest glare she can manage and pushes him away so she can go the rest of the way up the stairs. "I can't believe you'd say that. What the hell am I going to do here? What, Noah? Work at the bank? Maybe if I'm lucky I could get my teacher's license and corral tone-deaf 10 year olds in the elementary school choir!"
Hannah is home and no doubt hearing all this. Rachel should care more than she does.
"Calm down," he says. His voice is steady and stern, and she hates it as much as she loves it. (She loves it because she can hear him as a father, speaking to a child that way after he or she misbehaves. She hates herself for thinking about that right now.) "I didn't ask you to move back here, either, you know. I'm just pointing out that we've both got our own shit going on right now."
She's in his room now - what they've started calling their room - and throwing some things into a small bag. She's hell bent on leaving. All she wants him to do is give her a reason to stay.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she says as she stuffs her makeup bag in with the rest of her things. "I can't talk about this anymore."
"Don't fucking leave, baby." He walks up behind her and puts his arms around hers so she stops packing and he's just hugging her with his lips pressed to her shoulder. "C'mon. Just...Don't fucking go."
"You're making me so mad," she admits quietly. "I didn't...I didn't mean anything by that and now it's this huge fight."
"I said we'd figure it out and you jumped down my throat."
She doesn't want to laugh. They're as bad as each other. They have these ridiculous 10 minute fights and then they're back to making jokes and laughing.
"I just want to be in love with you," she says. She turns in his arms and he nods, kisses her and pushes her bag off the bed and onto the floor. She'd be angry if she didn't know that's just his way of telling her he's not letting her go anywhere. "I can do that no matter where I am."
He smiles and shakes his head. "Pretty fucking lame, Rachel."
"Shut up," she pouts. "It's true."
He laughs when she tries to punch him lightly in the ribs. "Yeah. I know." He kisses her and loosens his hold on her, and Hannah walks to just inside the door, makes a face and lets out a disgusted noise, saying something about them being fine and how she'll be in the basement. Noah laughs and Rachel blushes and presses her face against his chest. "Maybe we could visit you. March break or something."
She pulls away from him and she knows she's smiling a little too much by the way he laughs. "Please? I would love that so much."
He says it depends on money and if he can get the time off and all that, and it really strikes her that they're in an adult relationship when he has to worry about things like that.
When it's dark and they're both attempting to fall asleep, she hears him sigh and asks him what's wrong.
"You," he tells her. "You're...Something's gonna happen." She feels herself falling for him even more. "You're the fucking best thing around, and it'll happen."
She loves him for saying that, but they haven't resolved anything and she's terrified the distance is going to ruin them.
... ... ...
The night before she goes back to New York, he gives her her present. He tells her it's her birthday, Hanukkah, and Christmas present all rolled into one. It's not even like it was that expensive or anything, but it's something he knows she wants and it'll mean the world to her and also prove that sometimes he actually listens when she starts rambling about girly shit he really, really doesn't give a fuck about.
But it's worked out well for him right now, even if he is nervous as fuck to hand it to her.
He puts the box in her hand and seriously thinks this was a bad idea and he should just take it back. But you can't put a ring box in a girl's hand and then steal it away again. They probably don't like that.
"It's not an engagement ring," he tells her frantically before the box is even open.
She looks at him, then down at the box, and when she opens it and sees the delicate gold band inside, she gasps a little and her eyes go wide. "Noah."
"I know...You said you wanted a pinky ring, and...I dunno. I kinda thought if anyone's giving you rings it should be me," he tells her.
"You're crazy," she laughs, shaking her head. "I love it. I can't believe you bought me this."
He shrugs his shoulder and takes the ring from the box, grabs her left hand and slips the ring onto her pinky.
All he can think is that maybe in a few years if they haven't killed one another, he could be doing this with a real ring and some kind of big promise or whatever.
For now he just tells her he loves her and that he'll see her whenever. She does that thing where she doesn't let go of his hand until the last possible second at the airport, and he doesn't even make fun of her for it, because he can feel the ring on her finger and it makes him feel awesome to know she's got something on her person to remind her of him.
...Chapter 11...
Chapter: 10/13
Rating: R
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: He's never really missed a girl before. He never cared enough, really, to miss anyone.
Word Count: 5,400
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Thanksgiving was always one of his mother's favourite holidays, so Rachel insists they host dinner at his house. She wants to make it as close to tradition as possible, so she says she's cooking and he's going to deal with it and she's not taking no for an answer.
The first night she's back, she brings over a turkey and a bunch of stuff she's going to need to spend the next day cooking. He tells her he's going to spend all night making it nearly impossible for her to even get out of bed in the morning, and she believes him.
Her fathers are coming over, and Rachel's never cooked a full turkey dinner before, and she's nervous about it. Noah doesn't make it easy on her at all, either. He spends most of the morning trying to lure her back into bed, and relentlessly flirts with her in the kitchen until she pushes a beer into his hand and tells him to go watch football like a real man. He glares at her questioning his manhood, kisses her hard and leaves the room. Hannah just laughs and continues peeling potatoes. Her fathers are coming in a couple hours and bringing pies and their famous mac and cheese, which she thinks Noah is irrationally excited about.
She laughs every time she hears him shouting at the television, and Hannah rolls her eyes.
"He's basically stupid, you know that, right?" Hannah says.
"That's not a very nice thing to say."
"No, whatever. I mean, I get that, you, like, are into him and stuff, but I don't understand why." Hannah shrugs her shoulder and continues chopping carrots, the next task she was assigned. Rachel smiles. She's not exactly just 'into him'. "You could do better."
"Hannah!" Rachel cries laughingly.
"You could!"
Rachel thinks about it for a second, about she and Noah, and Noah and herself as separate people. Yes, he's crass and vulgar and has all the emotional depth of a wading pool. He says the wrong things at exactly the wrong times, and sometimes he makes her so mad she thinks she could hit him as hard as she can and it wouldn't be enough. (Not that she'd ever get physical with him, but still.) He drives her to the brink of insanity, then says something so sweet or touches her delicately or murmurs that he loves her against her skin and she's forgiving him. And she's not the easiest person to deal with either, she knows. She's overbearing and bossy and stubborn, and sometimes she's still just the slightest bit of a prude, even after all these years of him corrupting her, or at least attempting to. She can be completely insensitive to someone's feelings if they don't serve her needs, and she can tell - he has a tone - when she's on his last nerve and he wants to scream at her.
She takes Hannah's hand and leads her to the table, sits them down. This is one of those times she wishes Aviva was here (there are a lot of those times) to explain things like love and relationships and how they work. Hannah isn't a small child, but she's at the age where dating means kissing a boy on the lips and holding his hand in the hall at school.
"Sweetie," Rachel starts. She sighs and smiles. "Maybe you're right." They both laugh quietly and Rachel presses on. "I'm sure there's some perfect, amazing, wonderful man out there who would buy me flowers every Friday and take me to dinner and be all those things they tell you you're supposed to want." Hannah looks confused. Rachel's going to lay this all out really simply. "Those men are boring." They both laugh again. "Your brother might be a complete heathen, but..." She bites her lip and can't believe she's going to say this to his little sister, of all people. "But no one loves me like he does, and I'll never love anyone like I love him."
They're words she's never even told him, doesn't want to for fear of what he'll say in return. They've said little things and made hints towards a future, but 'forever' hasn't ever been thrown around and she might as well have just said the word. Hannah doesn't necessarily look convinced, but Rachel's never been more sure of anything in her life.
"I still think it's weird," Hannah says. Rachel laughs and swallows the lump in her throat.
She wishes she could stay for more than four days.
... ... ...
He sits through dinner with her dads and it's awesome. She sits next to him and rubs his thigh under the table or holds his hand over it, sips her wine and blushes when everyone compliments her on the amazing meal she made. She says Hannah was a huge help, but he knows it's bullshit because Rachel basically did all the big stuff. Everything's perfect and there's this moment when he honestly thinks this might be the first of a lot of Thanksgivings like this. He's been in a shitty mood all day because his mom isn't here, but Rachel makes that better and he doesn't know why that even surprises him anymore; she's been doing it for years.
He and her dads clean up the kitchen while she and Hannah go watch some Taylor Swift special on TV or something. He doesn't get why practically every girl ever made is obsessed with that chick, regardless of age, but whatever. He lets them do their thing and sips scotch with her dads while they take twice as long as normal to clean the kitchen.
The thing is, he feels like they kind of love him. Not, like, in a weird way or anything, they just like him for Rachel. Granted, he's a way better guy than he was in high school or even when they first started fucking around before college. He's grown up a whole lot in the past few years and her dads totally see that. One of them makes a comment about how happy Rachel is when she's around him, and he kind of wants to puff up with pride, because he loves doing that for her like she does it with him. Maybe that's why they're so good together; they're just happier with one another than they are with anyone else.
And you know what? He'd totally feel like a jerkoff thinking like that if he hadn't overheard her talking to his sister in the kitchen this afternoon.
Yeah, he could just let that sit with him and not make a big thing of it, but then he's laying in bed with Rachel and she's got her laptop open on her knees as she checks her email or facebook or whatever. He's playing guitar and she's smiling at him when he plays something she likes, and he can't keep it to himself anymore.
"Heard you today," he says casually. "With Han."
She blushes red and closes her eyes. "Oh."
He puts his guitar down and leans over to kiss her shoulder, up her neck. He nibbles on her ear and kisses her jaw before he says, "It's not weird," like a promise and she lets out a quiet laugh. "Just stop being such a girl about it."
She laughs harder and closes her computer, which is basically what he was going for in the first place. He takes it from her and sets it on his desk because she likes to keep it there since it's safer further away from the bed (fuck yeah, it is). He's trying to kiss her, but she puts her hand on his chest and the other on his face and makes him look her right in the eye as he settles himself half on top of her.
"Noah," she whispers. When she talks again her voice is a little bit louder. "I just...I want you to know how much I really love you. Because I do," she says eagerly. "I love you so...I never thought I could this much."
He furrows his brow. He hates that his first instinct is to ask what she did wrong and why she's sucking up, but the way she's looking at him says that maybe she really does just want him to know.
"Where's this coming from?" he asks.
She shrugs one shoulder and draws him a little closer. "It's just the truth."
It's true for him, too, but it's not like he's gonna actually say that to her. He just nods and kisses her and hopes she understands what he means.
And it'd be really great if his heart would stop fucking around in his chest and just calm the hell down.
... ... ...
She's gone on more auditions than she wants to admit.
Well, than she has admitted.
She can't tell her fathers because they'll 'comfort' her with trite words and clichés about how her time will come and anything could happen any day, and it just takes one person to hear her sing and love her and she'll have her name in lights.
She's starting to resent them for always telling her those things, all her life, and it's not fair to them. It's not fair to her, though, to be nearly 23 and realizing that maybe she's not the most talented person in New York and maybe she won't just be a star and win a Tony and sing on stage with Sean Hayes someday.
She's crying after another rejection (the third in the past two weeks) and Noah's calling her. She ignores the phone and he texts. She can't blame him for being persistent, since she really doesn't ever ignore his calls and she'd told him she'd be home. All his text says is 'You ok?' and she loves him for assuming she's not.
She doesn't call him back until she's calmed down enough to not sound like a complete wreck. She asks about his day and he mentions school being rough on him but he's managing and he turned in the paper he's been working on. Hannah is good and her dads stopped in this evening for dinner. She smiles. She loves that they're all kind of a family.
She just hates that she's excluded from so many of the things they do.
She starts crying again and she knows he doesn't have any kind of clue as to why.
"Do you love me?" she asks. She sounds needy and desperate, which is okay because that's how she feels.
"What? Yeah. Rachel, what the hell?"
"Nothing. I just needed to hear it from you," she says.
From anyone.
"Baby, come on. I know you. What's going on?" he asks. She wipes the tears away from her cheeks but doesn't say anything.
"Sometimes...I'm just having a really bad day, I guess," she admits. She knows she should tell him about the auditions and the rejections and the fact that she feels like she's going nowhere and doesn't know how to turn it around.
"Sorry," he says. "You want me to do something?"
She closes her eyes and sinks back into her mattress. "Tell me I'm the best," she says, a smile on her face.
"Best at what?"
"Noah!" she cries, a definite whine in her voice. "At everything."
He chuckles and the sound of it makes her smile wider than it should. "You are, Rach. You are the best at everything."
"Now you're just saying that," she pouts.
"Am not." She thinks she hears his belt buckle opening, and she rolls her eyes even if she's biting her lip. "I mean it."
She believes him, even if she shouldn't. She doesn't know if he'd ever lie to her about it, but it's pretty trivial anyway, and the other thing she made him say earlier is more important anyway.
At the end of their conversation he seems reluctant to hang up.
"You sure you're okay?" he asks seriously. "'Cause you don't seem like yourself and it's freaking me out."
"I guess I just try to hide these days from you," she admits. It's the truth. She doesn't usually let on anything's really bothering her. Not big things like this anyway.
"Why?"
"You have more important issues to worry about than whether or not I have a rough day," she says. She hears him scoff and she doesn't know why.
"That's bullshit," he spits at her. "Fucking tell me these things."
"Noah."
"No. That's stupid. You know how much you do for me? You...Fuck, Rach. Sometimes I feel like you don't even need me."
She has no idea what to say to that, because he's an idiot if he honestly thinks that. And if he does, he's incredibly stupid for ever saying that to her. He's wrong and most days she doesn't know how she'd even function without him. He's practically the biggest part of her, and she's questioning herself, wondering why he doesn't know and understand that, how she hasn't shown him that over the years.
"I do," she insists. "You're stupid if you think I don't."
"You just do your own thing out there and I stay here and wait for you to fuckin' call me and tell me I'm doing a good thing here," he admits. "You know how...I hate that. I just wanna do something for you, Rachel."
She can probably count on one hand the amount of times she's ever heard him speak so candidly.
"What do you think you're doing right now?" she asks quietly. He's just breathing into the phone and she wishes she was with him. She loves everything so much more when she's with him. "Hearing you say all that is the best thing that's happened to me all day."
She can hear him smiling when he mumbles, "Whatever," and they stay on the phone even longer, until she has to go to bed so she can be up for work in the morning.
She still doesn't tell him about the auditions, but maybe that's because they just seem a little less important now.
... ... ...
The truth is, he's worried about her. It's not anything new, really, worrying about her. It's just more now. She sounds different on the phone when he can reach her, and sometimes she's too tired to even talk. Or at least that's what she says. Obviously he knows there's no one else, or anything dumb like that, but he knows there's something up with her that she's not saying.
He knows it's harder for her this year, because a lot of her friends left New York and went back to where they came from or moved onto other cities. The other friends she had are now her competition, and judging from some of the stories she's told him they're a bunch of bitches too. She tells him about one of them not letting her know the call time for an open audition had changed, even though Rachel told the chick about that audition in the first place.
He knows she hates her job. She didn't major in theater and graduate with honours so she could sell tickets to shows she's talented enough to be in. It's not fair to her and he can't blame her for hating it. She doesn't want to dress in business clothes and go to an office and talk on the phone to rich people who should be buying tickets to see her, but aren't. It's just hard to talk to her sometimes because she sounds so fucking sad and he hates it when she's like that.
She comes home for the holidays and doesn't even go to her dads' place. He picks her up from the airport and takes her straight to his house, and her suitcase ends up on his bedroom floor where it's been almost every time she's come home for the past couple years. It just belongs there and there's not even a question anymore. Her dads totally understand and make jokes about working out a schedule to see her or whatever.
The first night, Hannah's at a friend's house (he totally didn't even plan that shit, either) and Rachel's sitting between his legs on the couch with her back to his chest. He loves these skinny jeans she's wearing and the red sweater she's got on, even if it is a turtleneck and she's not showing enough skin. Her hair's all up and messy, though, and she's rocking the whole sexy librarian thing, which he most definitely approves of. Plus, she's, you know, between his legs and they're watching Blue Bloods and he kinda loves this show, so it's not at all a bad scene.
"Would you still love me if I wasn't a singer?" she asks out of nowhere after Donnie Wahlberg goes all bad cop on some jackass.
"What?" he asks, mostly because this is random and stuff.
She sits up and turns so she can look at him, tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and he's still pretty confused. "I just need to know."
He furrows his brow a little more, but nods and says, "Yeah, baby. What the hell?"
She sighs and looks down, and when she looks back at him there are tears in her eyes and he hates it, this Rachel. He wants his Rachel back. His Rachel wouldn't ever doubt that everyone in the fucking universe loved her. This Rachel is doubting that even he does, which is just about the most fucked up thing he's ever seen.
"I don't know if I'm ever going to be...Noah, what if I don't make it?"
She's looking at him with these wide, shiny, teary eyes, and she honestly thinks it's something like the end of the world if she's not singing and dancing on Broadway within the next year.
Goddamn, she could be a hotel maid and he'd still love her. Kind of a given at this point that he doesn't give a shit what she does.
"Rach, you don't have to make it."
As soon as he's said it, he realizes what he's done and she's crying harder, and he wonders for a second if he's ever met her at all, because that shit was completely the wrong thing to say. She stands up and brushes at her cheeks, and whatever, he checks out her stomach where her sweater rides up.
"Yes, I do!" she shouts.
Right. They're having a 'conversation'.
"No, that's not...I didn't mean it like that." He grabs her wrist and tugs her back down onto the couch. She's only home for five days this time, because of her stupid job, and her not being in direct contact with him at all times is basically the worst thing ever. "I just meant it doesn't matter to me." She narrows her eyes. "Fuck! No, it matters. It does. I mean you can be whatever you want to be and I'll be here."
Then, because she's not fucking random enough, she gets onto her knees between his legs, leans down and kisses him.
"Thank you."
"Okay, what the hell?" he asks, because he needs to know where all this is coming from.
She bites her lip and avoids his eyes and he braces himself for what's coming, because he knows this face and it always means she's kept something from him and is about to spill.
"I haven't been entirely honest about..." She stops, sniffles and looks at him. "I'm trying so hard, Noah, and no one wants me."
He puts the pieces together pretty quickly, slips his hand into her hair and pulls her down on top of him. She cries against him for a few minutes and he doesn't really know what to do to get her to stop, but he really wants her to.
"I do," he promises, lips brushing her temple. "I want you."
She kisses him and he knows that means as much to her as he wanted it to.
... ... ...
She ends up telling him everything the next day. She gives him a shortlist of the shows she's auditioned for, and the multitude of ways she's been rejected and let down. He almost becomes irate when she tells him someone told her to drop 10 pounds. ("You're fucking perfect, Rachel, and those fuckers don't even know what they're doing!") She tells him her job is sucking the life from her and he tells her she should do open mics or something, just to be in front of an audience. He tells her she 'lives for that shit' and maybe he's right.
"I wish I had you to accompany me," she says, smiling at him. It's difficult when she feels so terrible about herself and he looks so mad about it. He grunts something and doesn't acknowledge it any further than that. She bites her lip and looks at him. "You know, New York would be better if you were there."
He glances at her. "Rachel."
He knows her well enough, she supposes, that he knows what she's getting at.
"I know. You...You can't come and be with me," she says sadly. It shouldn't hurt to say it out loud, not when she's known it all along. He runs his fingers through her hair. "I just love being with you, that's all."
A tear slips down her cheek because she knows they're coming up to some kind of crossroads in their relationship. There's no turning back now, obviously, but she doesn't know how they'll be together if they can't even live in the same place. And there's nothing in Lima for her. She'd have to go back to school and take a second major, and she doesn't want to do that. She's a performer and that's what she wants to do. Lima Community Theater would be happy to have her, but she'd hate them all and resent every single second of it. She can't live that life. She's cut out for more and they all know it.
Noah is, too, he just has these things to take care of first. Like his sister. Rachel loves Hannah and would never, ever want anything bad to happen to her, and Noah is doing an amazing job, considering it shouldn't be his job in the first place. She'd never ask him to uproot Hannah, but that doesn't mean she can't want it, does it?
"What are we going to do?" she asks.
"I dunno. We'll figure it out."
That's not a good enough answer for her, and she pulls away from him and looks at him incredulously. "You know, at some point, Noah, you're actually going to have to work out a plan. You can't just take it as it comes and hope for the best!"
She gets up when she sees how mad he is already, and she watches his jaw clench and unclench as he grinds his teeth. She hates it when he does that. She knows she's crossed a line, but she doesn't need him to be so angry about it.
"That's kinda all I can do right now, Rachel, and you fucking know that," he tells her.
It's true, to an extent, but it's also not true at all. At this rate it's going to take him another year to finish his major. That's fine, but he's always saying he doesn't make enough money, and that he wants more hours at work. Well, he'd have full time hours if he finished his program, and they'd pay him more, too. If he could somehow work in another credit or...
She doesn't know. She just knows she wants more for him than just working to make ends meet. He's better than that. She's always thought so.
Then again, maybe she's being a hypocrite. The difference is she's trying.
"I'm going to go before one of us says something they can't take back," she says quietly. She heads for the stairs and he's right behind her.
"Where're you going?"
"My dads', I guess."
"Rachel, wait," he says gruffly, grabbing her arm. He pushes her against the wall gently and she looks up at him. She knows he doesn't want to fight with her either. They're both stressed and worrying about these very issues. They've always had a hard time discussing these types of things, the things that really bother them. "Don't."
"Noah, I can't stay here and argue with you. All I did was mention that I'd be happier if I was with you all the time," she points out. "I didn't ask you to move to New York."
"I know that," he says, rolling his eyes. "But I'm not the only one who could move."
She gives him the coldest glare she can manage and pushes him away so she can go the rest of the way up the stairs. "I can't believe you'd say that. What the hell am I going to do here? What, Noah? Work at the bank? Maybe if I'm lucky I could get my teacher's license and corral tone-deaf 10 year olds in the elementary school choir!"
Hannah is home and no doubt hearing all this. Rachel should care more than she does.
"Calm down," he says. His voice is steady and stern, and she hates it as much as she loves it. (She loves it because she can hear him as a father, speaking to a child that way after he or she misbehaves. She hates herself for thinking about that right now.) "I didn't ask you to move back here, either, you know. I'm just pointing out that we've both got our own shit going on right now."
She's in his room now - what they've started calling their room - and throwing some things into a small bag. She's hell bent on leaving. All she wants him to do is give her a reason to stay.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she says as she stuffs her makeup bag in with the rest of her things. "I can't talk about this anymore."
"Don't fucking leave, baby." He walks up behind her and puts his arms around hers so she stops packing and he's just hugging her with his lips pressed to her shoulder. "C'mon. Just...Don't fucking go."
"You're making me so mad," she admits quietly. "I didn't...I didn't mean anything by that and now it's this huge fight."
"I said we'd figure it out and you jumped down my throat."
She doesn't want to laugh. They're as bad as each other. They have these ridiculous 10 minute fights and then they're back to making jokes and laughing.
"I just want to be in love with you," she says. She turns in his arms and he nods, kisses her and pushes her bag off the bed and onto the floor. She'd be angry if she didn't know that's just his way of telling her he's not letting her go anywhere. "I can do that no matter where I am."
He smiles and shakes his head. "Pretty fucking lame, Rachel."
"Shut up," she pouts. "It's true."
He laughs when she tries to punch him lightly in the ribs. "Yeah. I know." He kisses her and loosens his hold on her, and Hannah walks to just inside the door, makes a face and lets out a disgusted noise, saying something about them being fine and how she'll be in the basement. Noah laughs and Rachel blushes and presses her face against his chest. "Maybe we could visit you. March break or something."
She pulls away from him and she knows she's smiling a little too much by the way he laughs. "Please? I would love that so much."
He says it depends on money and if he can get the time off and all that, and it really strikes her that they're in an adult relationship when he has to worry about things like that.
When it's dark and they're both attempting to fall asleep, she hears him sigh and asks him what's wrong.
"You," he tells her. "You're...Something's gonna happen." She feels herself falling for him even more. "You're the fucking best thing around, and it'll happen."
She loves him for saying that, but they haven't resolved anything and she's terrified the distance is going to ruin them.
... ... ...
The night before she goes back to New York, he gives her her present. He tells her it's her birthday, Hanukkah, and Christmas present all rolled into one. It's not even like it was that expensive or anything, but it's something he knows she wants and it'll mean the world to her and also prove that sometimes he actually listens when she starts rambling about girly shit he really, really doesn't give a fuck about.
But it's worked out well for him right now, even if he is nervous as fuck to hand it to her.
He puts the box in her hand and seriously thinks this was a bad idea and he should just take it back. But you can't put a ring box in a girl's hand and then steal it away again. They probably don't like that.
"It's not an engagement ring," he tells her frantically before the box is even open.
She looks at him, then down at the box, and when she opens it and sees the delicate gold band inside, she gasps a little and her eyes go wide. "Noah."
"I know...You said you wanted a pinky ring, and...I dunno. I kinda thought if anyone's giving you rings it should be me," he tells her.
"You're crazy," she laughs, shaking her head. "I love it. I can't believe you bought me this."
He shrugs his shoulder and takes the ring from the box, grabs her left hand and slips the ring onto her pinky.
All he can think is that maybe in a few years if they haven't killed one another, he could be doing this with a real ring and some kind of big promise or whatever.
For now he just tells her he loves her and that he'll see her whenever. She does that thing where she doesn't let go of his hand until the last possible second at the airport, and he doesn't even make fun of her for it, because he can feel the ring on her finger and it makes him feel awesome to know she's got something on her person to remind her of him.
...Chapter 11...