notebooks are for notes; a glee fanfiction
Puck/Rachel one shot. R for language. Spoilers up to Sectionals. Puck just doesn't do chick flicks. Un beta'd.
author's note: Its finals week and I had insomnia, so naturally this was born.
---
He’s seen Schindler’s List too many times to count. But if his mother was going to make them watch one movie every year, he’s glad it’s not something shitty like Breakfast at Whatever or The Diary or whatever. Because Puck just doesn’t do chick flicks.
…
He doesn’t think it will be hard to get Berry. He’s Puck, for fuck’s sake.
They end up making out on her bed.
There’s no romantic story line. There’s no fucking way he’d let that happen.
…
The clock strikes 3:30 and Puck hangs back while Matt and Mike stride into the choir room. This is it; he can easily be that guy. Quickly turn around and head toward the locker room, don his jersey and join Finn on the field. But some part of him urges him not to. He can’t decide if this is really for Rachel or if he’s just trying to show Quinn that he’s a better man than Finn.
When he finally crosses the threshold, however, he just knows. Sure, Quinn is carrying his child. And he’ll be damned if he just lets that go. But one look at Rachel…
And then she’s there, in front of him, talking, with this look in her eyes, and Puck is briefly reminded of the ending to some sappy movie his mother and sister made him watch once. So he puts on a cocky grin before answering.
“Bring it.”
…
He’s sitting on the bleachers when she finally finds him, watching the rest of the football team run drills or whatever it was they did at practice. She realizes she might be the one that put the look of longing on his face, and she suddenly feels guilty.
She breaks up with him. She’s seen the way he looks at Quinn during Glee, and she’s convinced herself that she’s in love with Finn.
“I just hope we can still be friends.”
A happy ending. That’s what she wanted. But happy endings were for people who cared.
“We weren’t friends before.”
It’s harsh and blunt and driven mostly by anger, but it does the job. Her hand recoils from his shoulder and he gets up and walks away. He can tell without looking that she’s sitting there with this devastated look on her face. But this was a drama, not a romance. And Puck tells himself that he just doesn’t care.
…
They pass each other and Rachel can’t help but look up at him. He looks back at her and they hold their gaze for barely even a second.
Rachel averts her gaze because in that one second she realizes just how many people she’s hurt and how much she’s ruined. Her chest hurts just looking at him, and she tries to push aside the feelings that were bubbling to the surface. Blinking, she walks away and lets him go to Quinn. She’s sure that’s what he really wants.
He looks away because he won’t let this turn into some lame chick flick moment.
…
The rest of the Gleeks are celebrating their win, but he just can’t handle being in the same room as the two of them.
Finn hates him and Quinn wants nothing to do with him. He hates them right back, them and their stupid rhyming names.
…
Somehow he finds himself at her house, on her porch, and knocking on her door. The driveway is empty and he mildly wonders if she’s even home. He’s just about to return to his truck when the door opens, and Rachel is standing behind it with a very confused, very Rachel look on her face.
Surprise probably wouldn’t be an adequate description of the emotions that crash over her the moment Rachel opens the door to find Puck standing on the other side, his hands shoved into the pockets of his letterman jacket. They haven’t spoken since Sectionals, and so many thoughts hit her at once that she’s not even sure what to say. Her lips part in an attempt to say something, but he cuts her off before anything coherent forms.
His lips press against hers desperately and she kisses back with just as much fervor.
…
“Noah…”
He recognizes that look, the one that says she’s about to say or do something deeply emotional and maybe even start crying. He quickly raises his hand to cut her off.
“Hey. No chick flick moments.”
And she doesn’t even care. She doesn’t care that he’s loud and obnoxious and mean and insufferable and kind of a jerk. Because he’s her loud, insufferable jerk who has an incredible voice and lets her call him Noah. And she doesn’t think she’d want him any other way.
author's note: Its finals week and I had insomnia, so naturally this was born.
---
He’s seen Schindler’s List too many times to count. But if his mother was going to make them watch one movie every year, he’s glad it’s not something shitty like Breakfast at Whatever or The Diary or whatever. Because Puck just doesn’t do chick flicks.
…
He doesn’t think it will be hard to get Berry. He’s Puck, for fuck’s sake.
They end up making out on her bed.
There’s no romantic story line. There’s no fucking way he’d let that happen.
…
The clock strikes 3:30 and Puck hangs back while Matt and Mike stride into the choir room. This is it; he can easily be that guy. Quickly turn around and head toward the locker room, don his jersey and join Finn on the field. But some part of him urges him not to. He can’t decide if this is really for Rachel or if he’s just trying to show Quinn that he’s a better man than Finn.
When he finally crosses the threshold, however, he just knows. Sure, Quinn is carrying his child. And he’ll be damned if he just lets that go. But one look at Rachel…
And then she’s there, in front of him, talking, with this look in her eyes, and Puck is briefly reminded of the ending to some sappy movie his mother and sister made him watch once. So he puts on a cocky grin before answering.
“Bring it.”
…
He’s sitting on the bleachers when she finally finds him, watching the rest of the football team run drills or whatever it was they did at practice. She realizes she might be the one that put the look of longing on his face, and she suddenly feels guilty.
She breaks up with him. She’s seen the way he looks at Quinn during Glee, and she’s convinced herself that she’s in love with Finn.
“I just hope we can still be friends.”
A happy ending. That’s what she wanted. But happy endings were for people who cared.
“We weren’t friends before.”
It’s harsh and blunt and driven mostly by anger, but it does the job. Her hand recoils from his shoulder and he gets up and walks away. He can tell without looking that she’s sitting there with this devastated look on her face. But this was a drama, not a romance. And Puck tells himself that he just doesn’t care.
…
They pass each other and Rachel can’t help but look up at him. He looks back at her and they hold their gaze for barely even a second.
Rachel averts her gaze because in that one second she realizes just how many people she’s hurt and how much she’s ruined. Her chest hurts just looking at him, and she tries to push aside the feelings that were bubbling to the surface. Blinking, she walks away and lets him go to Quinn. She’s sure that’s what he really wants.
He looks away because he won’t let this turn into some lame chick flick moment.
…
The rest of the Gleeks are celebrating their win, but he just can’t handle being in the same room as the two of them.
Finn hates him and Quinn wants nothing to do with him. He hates them right back, them and their stupid rhyming names.
…
Somehow he finds himself at her house, on her porch, and knocking on her door. The driveway is empty and he mildly wonders if she’s even home. He’s just about to return to his truck when the door opens, and Rachel is standing behind it with a very confused, very Rachel look on her face.
Surprise probably wouldn’t be an adequate description of the emotions that crash over her the moment Rachel opens the door to find Puck standing on the other side, his hands shoved into the pockets of his letterman jacket. They haven’t spoken since Sectionals, and so many thoughts hit her at once that she’s not even sure what to say. Her lips part in an attempt to say something, but he cuts her off before anything coherent forms.
His lips press against hers desperately and she kisses back with just as much fervor.
…
“Noah…”
He recognizes that look, the one that says she’s about to say or do something deeply emotional and maybe even start crying. He quickly raises his hand to cut her off.
“Hey. No chick flick moments.”
And she doesn’t even care. She doesn’t care that he’s loud and obnoxious and mean and insufferable and kind of a jerk. Because he’s her loud, insufferable jerk who has an incredible voice and lets her call him Noah. And she doesn’t think she’d want him any other way.