Regret is a Bitter Pill
Title: Regret is a Bitter Pill
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: I guess spoilers up to Sectionals. But who hasn't seen that at this point...?
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Fictable prompt #17 - Tears.
Word Count: 1,973
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, I would write myself in as a love interest for Finn, thereby forcing Puck and Rachel together, and allowing myself to make out with Cory. (Clearly, I don't own.)
So, it's not like he and Berry really have anything in common, other than their religious background and the fact that they're both in glee. Really. She's loud and abrasive and annoying and pushy and a million other things that drive him fucking insane. And he's...Puck. And yeah, they dated for like, a week, but it's not like he really knows anything important about her, despite her constant fucking blabbering.
But when he sees her sitting on her front porch crying, he feels like he'd be a complete asshole if he didn't at least stop and ask her if, you know, she's okay or whatever. So he interrupts his morning run, wipes his forehead with the bottom of his tee shirt, turns off his iPod and crosses her lawn until he's standing in front of her.
For the first time in her natural life, she doesn't start talking.
That's fucking creepy, if you ask him.
"Uh. Hey," he says. He knows she's noticed him, but she looks up at him, and Jesus fuck. Her eyes all full of tears like, make him feel bad and stuff. "You okay?"
She blinks a few times, then gets this really pissed off look on her face. "Do I look okay?!" she shouts.
Well, fuck. Not really.
He holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back. "I didn't think opening with, 'hey, you look like shit,' seemed like a good idea. Forget I even asked."
He reaches for his iPod again and starts to walk away, but for some reason, he stops when he hears her voice call his name.
"Noah." When he turns, she's wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I'm just having...having a rough...life."
Shit. Shit. He should fucking say something horrible, give her some shocking insult, but he can't do it. Well, he could, but he doesn't. He sits down next to her instead, rests his elbows on his knees.
"You uh...you wanna talk about it or whatever?" he asks. Shit. He's just invited her to start talking. Clearly, he's a fucking moron.
"You don't want to hear about my issues, I'm sure."
"Well no, not really. But You're like, crying and shit, and I can't handle seeing chicks cry. I just...gotta like...make it better or whatever."
(The fuck? Where'd that admission come from? Yeah, it's the truth, but shit.)
She smiles and looks over at him. "That's very sweet. I'm sure that's a result of being brought up by a single mother."
"I didn't ask for fucking therapy, alright?" he says, and she's still smiling. Nutcase. "Why are you bawling? And why are you doing it outside?"
"Jesse just left," she says quietly.
"Fuck. I'd throw a fucking parade if that douche left my house and me alone," he says. She doesn't seem to appreciate that. "Sorry."
"We broke up," she almost whispers. "After...nevermind."
"What?" he asks.
(Whatever. If he's happy that she and that idiot broke up, it's just because he fucking hates that Jesse guy. Seriously. Hates.)
"Nothing. I'm sure I'll be fine. I'm always fine, aren't I? I'll get through it."
"Rachel, you should fuckin'...talk about it or whatever. Right? So it's not eating away at you and shit."
"Did I ask for therapy?" she asks bitingly. He rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I just don't really understand why you're here. And while it's quite nice of you to come sit with me, I'm not entirely comfortable with telling you the entire story, given our history and the fact that we haven't had a real conversation in months."
"Believe it or not, Rachel, not everyone needs to give a long winded explanation of why they're talking to you. Shit. Give yourself more credit."
This is what pisses him off about her. She thinks everyone hates her.
And okay, some people might. He's not one of those people. He'll fuckin' talk to her if he wants to. He shouldn't have to state his motives.
She looks at him and her lips quirk into a smile. "You called me Rachel."
"'S'your name, isn't it?" he asks, smirking at her. "And just because everyone else treats you like shit 90% of the time, doesn't mean I will."
"No, you just ignore me," she says. He'd think she was being serious if she wasn't still smiling.
"Better than what I did before."
"That much is true," she admits quietly.
"Alright, fucking spill, okay? Because I got shit to do today."
Seriously. He and Quinn broke up like, a month ago, but he's spending the afternoon/evening with her and his kid, so he's gotta like, shower and whatever.
(Yet another reason why he shouldn't be sitting here, being Berry's sounding board.)
Rachel takes a deep breath and more tears spring to her eyes. He swears he's going to kick that douchbag's ass if he hurt her in any way. (Whatever. They're not friends, but she's his teammate, and that counts for a lot with him.)
"Promise me that what I tell you right now stays between us," she pleads seriously. "I mean it, Noah. No one else. Don't tell anyone else."
"Tell them I spent my Saturday morning letting you cry on my shoulder and talk about your feelings? Pretty sure I can keep it to myself." She laughs a little bit, and a tear trails down her cheek. "So what happened? He didn't like...he didn't...hurt you, or..."
"No," she insists, cutting him off. "No, I mean, not really."
"You've gotta be more sure of it than that, or I'm gonna kill him."
"Noah," she giggles. He doesn't know why. He's not joking. "We um...we took our relationship to the next level."
Holy fucking shit.
"You slept with that asshole!?"
"Shhh!" she hisses, clamping her hand over his mouth. "Noah, please!"
"You fuckin'...I thought...when we were whatever, you said..."
"I said I wanted to wait until it was right," she reminds him. He remembers that conversation. He wasn't pressuring her or anything stupid like that; she offered the information up willingly. (And so what if there was a little part of him that hoped the timing would be right with him?) "And I thought it was. I thought..."
"What does that mean?" he asks, turning towards her.
She takes a deep breath and tips her head back. When she closes her eyes, a tear falls down her face and he doesn't really mean to wipe it away, but that's what happens. She doesn't even flinch.
"It was terrible, Noah," she admits, and when she looks over at him, her eyes are so sad that it makes him feel bad. "It's not supposed to be bad, right? It was awkward and...and...uncomfortable, and painful and...I hated it."
Fuck. He wants to show her, rather than tell her, that sex is not terrible or bad or awkward. That idiot clearly doesn't know shit all about pleasing a woman. Virgins are delicate things. He knows how to deal with them because he's had a couple, and he's a fucking stud. You've got to work them a little, get them comfortable and get them into it. If they don't relax, it's never going to feel good.
He can just picture Rachel wound so tightly that she wouldn't enjoy a thing.
He would have done it better than Jesse. He knows that much.
Not that, you know, he like, wants to or whatever. Not really.
"No, it's not supposed to be bad," he assures her. "I mean, I guess it hurts or whatever, for girls, the first time. But yeah...if that boyfriend of yours knew anything about anything, you wouldn't be sitting here crying about it."
(Alright, so he's pissed.)
"He's not my boyfriend."
"You broke up because of sex?"
"We broke up because I didn't feel...Noah, I didn't feel anything," she says shakily.
So he puts his arm around her, because seriously? Crying girls are his kryptonite. He just can't even deal around them. His mom calls it a hero complex or something.
"Nothing?" he asks, just to be clear. (Clearly she wasn't satisfied, but he doesn't think that's what she's talking about.)
"I thought...I thought that if we progressed our physical relationship, then the emotional part would progress, too," she tells him, their eyes locked. "I'm so stupid."
"Hey," he says quickly. "You're not stupid, Rachel. People have sex for way worse reasons than that. Believe me."
"I feel like an idiot."
"Don't," he says, shrugging his shoulder. "I mean, at least you broke up with him when you realized it." She shoots him a look and he winces. "Sort of when you realized it."
"I just gave it away like it was nothing," she says, curling into him a little bit more.
"Naw. You just...you gave it to the wrong dude."
"You're not making me feel better."
"I'm trying," he says, and they both laugh softly. "C'mon. I know it's a big deal, but just...The next guy will be better."
She pulls away from him and smiles, a big, wide smile, like he hasn't seen her do yet. "You know, you're not so bad."
"I know." She laughs again and he grins. "Look, I gotta go. I'm meeting Q in an hour, but...if you, you know, need anything or whatever..."
"Thank you, Noah. That's very sweet of you," she says as they stand. "Do you mind if I..." She bites her lip, then shakes her head. "No. Nevermind."
"What?"
She looks up at him, lashes all clumped together and eyes all blood shot. "Can I hug you?"
He laughs and pulls her into his arms. He feels her exhale and wrap her arms around his waist, and it feels like the last time they hugged, in the middle of the choir room with everyone watching. He doesn't hate how she fits in his arms. She's so freakishly tiny that he can literally like, embrace her, and she's all pressed against him. And she holds on tight, too, like she really, really wants to hug him, likes hugging him, even.
"I'll see you later. No more fucking tears, Berry. The loser isn't worth it," he says. She laughs as she pulls away from him, and nods weakly. "I'm serious. You cry again, and I'mma be pissed."
She jokingly salutes him as he backs away from her, and he winks before he starts jogging again.
He feels kind of awesome for helping her out.
And whatever, so he likes her smile. Big deal.
(It kind of is...)
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: I guess spoilers up to Sectionals. But who hasn't seen that at this point...?
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Summary: Fictable prompt #17 - Tears.
Word Count: 1,973
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, I would write myself in as a love interest for Finn, thereby forcing Puck and Rachel together, and allowing myself to make out with Cory. (Clearly, I don't own.)
So, it's not like he and Berry really have anything in common, other than their religious background and the fact that they're both in glee. Really. She's loud and abrasive and annoying and pushy and a million other things that drive him fucking insane. And he's...Puck. And yeah, they dated for like, a week, but it's not like he really knows anything important about her, despite her constant fucking blabbering.
But when he sees her sitting on her front porch crying, he feels like he'd be a complete asshole if he didn't at least stop and ask her if, you know, she's okay or whatever. So he interrupts his morning run, wipes his forehead with the bottom of his tee shirt, turns off his iPod and crosses her lawn until he's standing in front of her.
For the first time in her natural life, she doesn't start talking.
That's fucking creepy, if you ask him.
"Uh. Hey," he says. He knows she's noticed him, but she looks up at him, and Jesus fuck. Her eyes all full of tears like, make him feel bad and stuff. "You okay?"
She blinks a few times, then gets this really pissed off look on her face. "Do I look okay?!" she shouts.
Well, fuck. Not really.
He holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back. "I didn't think opening with, 'hey, you look like shit,' seemed like a good idea. Forget I even asked."
He reaches for his iPod again and starts to walk away, but for some reason, he stops when he hears her voice call his name.
"Noah." When he turns, she's wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I'm just having...having a rough...life."
Shit. Shit. He should fucking say something horrible, give her some shocking insult, but he can't do it. Well, he could, but he doesn't. He sits down next to her instead, rests his elbows on his knees.
"You uh...you wanna talk about it or whatever?" he asks. Shit. He's just invited her to start talking. Clearly, he's a fucking moron.
"You don't want to hear about my issues, I'm sure."
"Well no, not really. But You're like, crying and shit, and I can't handle seeing chicks cry. I just...gotta like...make it better or whatever."
(The fuck? Where'd that admission come from? Yeah, it's the truth, but shit.)
She smiles and looks over at him. "That's very sweet. I'm sure that's a result of being brought up by a single mother."
"I didn't ask for fucking therapy, alright?" he says, and she's still smiling. Nutcase. "Why are you bawling? And why are you doing it outside?"
"Jesse just left," she says quietly.
"Fuck. I'd throw a fucking parade if that douche left my house and me alone," he says. She doesn't seem to appreciate that. "Sorry."
"We broke up," she almost whispers. "After...nevermind."
"What?" he asks.
(Whatever. If he's happy that she and that idiot broke up, it's just because he fucking hates that Jesse guy. Seriously. Hates.)
"Nothing. I'm sure I'll be fine. I'm always fine, aren't I? I'll get through it."
"Rachel, you should fuckin'...talk about it or whatever. Right? So it's not eating away at you and shit."
"Did I ask for therapy?" she asks bitingly. He rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I just don't really understand why you're here. And while it's quite nice of you to come sit with me, I'm not entirely comfortable with telling you the entire story, given our history and the fact that we haven't had a real conversation in months."
"Believe it or not, Rachel, not everyone needs to give a long winded explanation of why they're talking to you. Shit. Give yourself more credit."
This is what pisses him off about her. She thinks everyone hates her.
And okay, some people might. He's not one of those people. He'll fuckin' talk to her if he wants to. He shouldn't have to state his motives.
She looks at him and her lips quirk into a smile. "You called me Rachel."
"'S'your name, isn't it?" he asks, smirking at her. "And just because everyone else treats you like shit 90% of the time, doesn't mean I will."
"No, you just ignore me," she says. He'd think she was being serious if she wasn't still smiling.
"Better than what I did before."
"That much is true," she admits quietly.
"Alright, fucking spill, okay? Because I got shit to do today."
Seriously. He and Quinn broke up like, a month ago, but he's spending the afternoon/evening with her and his kid, so he's gotta like, shower and whatever.
(Yet another reason why he shouldn't be sitting here, being Berry's sounding board.)
Rachel takes a deep breath and more tears spring to her eyes. He swears he's going to kick that douchbag's ass if he hurt her in any way. (Whatever. They're not friends, but she's his teammate, and that counts for a lot with him.)
"Promise me that what I tell you right now stays between us," she pleads seriously. "I mean it, Noah. No one else. Don't tell anyone else."
"Tell them I spent my Saturday morning letting you cry on my shoulder and talk about your feelings? Pretty sure I can keep it to myself." She laughs a little bit, and a tear trails down her cheek. "So what happened? He didn't like...he didn't...hurt you, or..."
"No," she insists, cutting him off. "No, I mean, not really."
"You've gotta be more sure of it than that, or I'm gonna kill him."
"Noah," she giggles. He doesn't know why. He's not joking. "We um...we took our relationship to the next level."
Holy fucking shit.
"You slept with that asshole!?"
"Shhh!" she hisses, clamping her hand over his mouth. "Noah, please!"
"You fuckin'...I thought...when we were whatever, you said..."
"I said I wanted to wait until it was right," she reminds him. He remembers that conversation. He wasn't pressuring her or anything stupid like that; she offered the information up willingly. (And so what if there was a little part of him that hoped the timing would be right with him?) "And I thought it was. I thought..."
"What does that mean?" he asks, turning towards her.
She takes a deep breath and tips her head back. When she closes her eyes, a tear falls down her face and he doesn't really mean to wipe it away, but that's what happens. She doesn't even flinch.
"It was terrible, Noah," she admits, and when she looks over at him, her eyes are so sad that it makes him feel bad. "It's not supposed to be bad, right? It was awkward and...and...uncomfortable, and painful and...I hated it."
Fuck. He wants to show her, rather than tell her, that sex is not terrible or bad or awkward. That idiot clearly doesn't know shit all about pleasing a woman. Virgins are delicate things. He knows how to deal with them because he's had a couple, and he's a fucking stud. You've got to work them a little, get them comfortable and get them into it. If they don't relax, it's never going to feel good.
He can just picture Rachel wound so tightly that she wouldn't enjoy a thing.
He would have done it better than Jesse. He knows that much.
Not that, you know, he like, wants to or whatever. Not really.
"No, it's not supposed to be bad," he assures her. "I mean, I guess it hurts or whatever, for girls, the first time. But yeah...if that boyfriend of yours knew anything about anything, you wouldn't be sitting here crying about it."
(Alright, so he's pissed.)
"He's not my boyfriend."
"You broke up because of sex?"
"We broke up because I didn't feel...Noah, I didn't feel anything," she says shakily.
So he puts his arm around her, because seriously? Crying girls are his kryptonite. He just can't even deal around them. His mom calls it a hero complex or something.
"Nothing?" he asks, just to be clear. (Clearly she wasn't satisfied, but he doesn't think that's what she's talking about.)
"I thought...I thought that if we progressed our physical relationship, then the emotional part would progress, too," she tells him, their eyes locked. "I'm so stupid."
"Hey," he says quickly. "You're not stupid, Rachel. People have sex for way worse reasons than that. Believe me."
"I feel like an idiot."
"Don't," he says, shrugging his shoulder. "I mean, at least you broke up with him when you realized it." She shoots him a look and he winces. "Sort of when you realized it."
"I just gave it away like it was nothing," she says, curling into him a little bit more.
"Naw. You just...you gave it to the wrong dude."
"You're not making me feel better."
"I'm trying," he says, and they both laugh softly. "C'mon. I know it's a big deal, but just...The next guy will be better."
She pulls away from him and smiles, a big, wide smile, like he hasn't seen her do yet. "You know, you're not so bad."
"I know." She laughs again and he grins. "Look, I gotta go. I'm meeting Q in an hour, but...if you, you know, need anything or whatever..."
"Thank you, Noah. That's very sweet of you," she says as they stand. "Do you mind if I..." She bites her lip, then shakes her head. "No. Nevermind."
"What?"
She looks up at him, lashes all clumped together and eyes all blood shot. "Can I hug you?"
He laughs and pulls her into his arms. He feels her exhale and wrap her arms around his waist, and it feels like the last time they hugged, in the middle of the choir room with everyone watching. He doesn't hate how she fits in his arms. She's so freakishly tiny that he can literally like, embrace her, and she's all pressed against him. And she holds on tight, too, like she really, really wants to hug him, likes hugging him, even.
"I'll see you later. No more fucking tears, Berry. The loser isn't worth it," he says. She laughs as she pulls away from him, and nods weakly. "I'm serious. You cry again, and I'mma be pissed."
She jokingly salutes him as he backs away from her, and he winks before he starts jogging again.
He feels kind of awesome for helping her out.
And whatever, so he likes her smile. Big deal.
(It kind of is...)