Rachel/Puck, Glee club
Rachel finds herself slowly feeling for Puck again while in a relationship with Finn. Yeah, I know, fabulous summary... xD
I do not own Glee or any of the characters. I do have my own little Puck-bot hidden in my closet though...
Rachel awkwardly climbed into the backseat of Mike's minivan, taking her seat on the other side of Quinn. The whole of the ride was uncomfortable, and for the most part, silent. Quinn, like Rachel had the ride to, attempted to stir up conversation between the three but failed most miserably, and after five or so tries, gave up completely, and took to staring at her hands, clasped in her lap.
When Mike stopped for snacks, Rachel looked up, and with a pang realized which rest stop they were at. The one Rachel had kissed Noah at. She peaked at him through the corner of her eye, but he wasn't looking at her. Just starting out the window, deep in thought, either remembering the same moment she was, or maybe even something as ridiculous as how much he loved Pringles (which Brittany had grabbed for him when she and Santana stopped in to restock).
With only twenty minutes to go before they would reach the safe borders of Lima where Rachel could run home and sing whatever she was feeling-- whatever expressed herself the most, Quinn gave one last effort.
"So-- what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get home?"
"Eat cereal..." replied Brittany absentmindedly, who was hard at work, texting.
"Re-charge my phone," Santana announced, "It died, and I forgot my damn portable charger!"
"Sleep!" Mike and Matt piped up together. Quinn looked back and forth between Noah and Rachel.
"You two?" she inquired.
"Probably sing," Rachel told her, "I've been declined the opportunity the last seventy-two or so hours and I'm frightened my vocal chords have turned stale. The most I've been able to do is hum." Quinn turned to Noah. He waited a moment before answering.
"Write songs." Both Rachel and Quinn were taken aback.
"You write?" Rachel asked, surprised. He grinned a little at her reaction.
"Yeah, I do. I'm no great American novel author, or whatever, but I write some. Then I play 'em."
"You should show me them!" Rachel told him enthusiastically. "I can give fantastic critique!" Noah raised one eyebrow, trying to appear cocky and a tad sarcastic and badass as he often was, but he seemed a bit off, despite his best efforts.
"Um, they're not exactly the sort of thing I share much. Or at all." He gave Rachel a little side glance to see her reaction.
"Oh. Well, that's perfectly understandable; we all have our secret interests that one keeps under their hat. Off the record, privy, nonpublic, hushed up, unofficial, clandestine..." she rattled off synonyms for private, every one she knew, until her voice slowly trailed off, realizing Noah wasn't even paying attention to her. Which was fine, given the pretenses. Expected even. She was being ridiculous.
When they got into Lima, bodies slowly trickled away leaving less body heat, but the van's temperature was higher than ever. When it was only Rachel left with Noah, who actually didn't live too far away from her, she could practically feel his breathing in her ear she was so conscious of him. Once or twice she considered enlacing his large hand with her petite one, but decided against it. No matter how strong her longing was, no matter how powerful the urge, she had to wait. She had to be patient. But for how long? Rachel asked herself. How much longer did she have to struggle through it?
That night, before turning in, Rachel went downstairs to the kitchen to grab a cup of hot chocolate. It was a thing she did on those nights when listening to her music didn't help. She then resorted to sugars, fats, and calories. A low choice indeed, but the steaming beverage actually performed a decent job of calming her. Tonight when she entered the kitchen she was surprised to see her dad sitting at the counter.
"Hi Dad," she said, smiling at him. "Shouldn't you be upstairs, reading Little Women?" Each night before bed both of Rachel's dads read a chapter from the twos' personal favorites, Little Women and Pride and Prejudice. Neither could sleep without it. Rachel's dad smiled at her.
"I'm feeling perky this evening, sweetheart. Tonight, I feel, as if the world is my doormat and I am the shoes. Something tells me I should be awake. Perhaps a lonely kitten will wander upon our doorstep at midnight, mewing too soft for us to hear once enclosed and nearly asleep in our bedrooms. Or at ten oh six tonight I will be struck with the cure for the common cold." He looked and Rachel and smiled. "Never back down from your gut feeling, I say." Rachel grinned at him, dubious, but mildly entertained.
"And have you always stayed true to that belief?" Her dad shrugged.
"Perhaps, on occasion, while still rich in youth I declined the idea." He winked. "But now, it's practically the words I live by." Rachel got up to make herself that hot chocolate-- when stirring in the mix, her dad spoke again. "Anything bothering you, sugarplum?" Rachel paused for a moment before answering.
"You're in luck dad-- it's a topic you actually enjoy this time."
"What are you talking about? I always
enjoy any topic with you." Rachel smiled and shook her head.
"Boys." she replied simply. And, not to her surprise, her dad eyes lit up at the word.
"Well well, Rache, honey, I don't think we've talked about boys since... since?"
"Jordan White in eight grade? I'm aware, dad. And I'd appreciate if we don't discuss that despicable low life." Rachel's dad cleared his throat.
"Of course. Touchy matter, I understand." he paused. "So... who's the lucky male this time? Something up with that nice Finn boy you've been seeing?"
"Noah. Noah Puckerman." Rachel watched as her dad stirred his cup of coffee-- black, strong, just as he preferred it.
"He's that guy you used to go out with, right?" he asked, shooting her a quizzical look. "For about... a week? The one with the most ridiculous mohawk, and who scoffed at my beadwork?" Rachel smiled, a fond look spreading over her face.
"That's the one."
"What's up with him?"
"Well-- it's not so much him, as it is me-- or, it is, I mean it's both of us, but then he's--" she took a deep breath. She was never going to get the right answers if he didn't even know the whole story. "I kind of-- I kind of cheated on Finn with him." she immediately looked at her hands, scared of her father's reaction. There was a minute or two of silence.
"That isn't something your other father and I raised you to do, Rachel. I sure hope you know that." Tears stung Rachel's eyes and she shut them tight, willing them to stop.
"Yeah. I know." she answered, her voice cracking. She felt his comforting hand on her shoulder, squeezing it.
"Finn found out, didn't he?" he asked. Rachel sighed into her hands.
"Yeah. He did. He-- he saw us." she barely murmured. Her voice was garbled, raw and rough.
"At Uncle Fitch's?" She nodded. "Rachel? Look up please, honey?" She waited a moment before raising her face from the wet darkness in her hands. Her eyes burned in the light and she blinked rapidly. "Do you... do you have strong feelings? For Noah?" She hesitated before answering.
"If you're asking if I love him... yeah dad, I do." She bit her lip, awaiting his reply. He didn't. "So yeah, Finn's broken up with me, Noah's not talking to me because it makes him too uncomfortable, or something of that general idea, and pretty much the only real friend I have is my ex-arch enemy. Quinn." she added, when her dad glanced at her, puzzled. "And I don't even know if we're really
friends you know, it's all-- it's all very confusing!" she concluded.
"Welcome to the real world, precious." he told her bitterly. "Rachel, oh apple of my eye, listen to your dad now. Don't rush into anything. At all. I suggest starting out slow-- then gradually, steadily gaining speed, and eventually, come to a stop. When you come to that stop, that quick instant of clarity, it will be momentary. But you'll know the right choice." he paused, draining his cup. "Now lamb, angel, sugar, light of my life-- I'm heading to bed."
"What? What happened to that important event that you had to stay awake for?" He beamed pleasurably at her, leaning down to plant a kiss upon her head.
"It has already happened."
The next two days passed, but it didn't really feel like they did. To Puck, it was as if he had been in Sunday, and now, suddenly, he was sitting in his room on Wednesday afternoon, and his mom was telling him the phone was for him. Monday and Tuesday held vague traces left in his brain-- like a sixty-five on his science project, and a talk with Mr. Barner afterwards, and a worried glance from Rachel. Quinn sat with him at lunch the next day, but he didn't remember what they had talked about. On Wednesday though, something awoke inside him. Something that slowly stirred awake by a phone call. From Kurt Hummel, of all people.
"Hullo?" he mumbled sleepily into the phone. It was Wednesday. Wednesdays after school required two-hour naps from his hard day at school-- he hated when his schedule had to be flipped around by the ringing of Nancy Boy.
"Puck. Hello, this is Kurt Hummel, calling upon your house at four forty-one p.m. Wednesday, February eleventh, two thousand ten. I, and our fellow Glee peers, have an urgent matter to discuss with you concerning the students by the names of Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson. Are you familiar--"
"Kurt, what the hell? You know damn well I know exactly who--"
"I know, I know, I'm only playing with you." he giggled. Actually giggled.
"I wasn't planning on going so Law & Order on you, just a tad, but I got a bit carried away in the spirt of things--"
"Kurt. What are you calling me about?"
"Oh. Right. Yes." he cleared his throat, immediately gaining back to his previous seriousness. "About Rachel and Finn-- we, the Glee club, are quite concerned about the twos' well-being. Or, the others are... about Rachel anyway... They are, to put it as Mercedes does, 'in a funk.' So, in light of recent events, we have decided to contact you."
"To assist in the twos' reconciliation, of course." (Puck could hear the bitterness in Kurt's words as he spoke them.) "This Saturday, February fourteenth, is also known as the popular holiday Valentine's Day, originated in--"
"Get on with it Kurt."
"Right. We have decided to host a GVDBO."
"A what what what what what?"
"GVDBO. Glee Valentine's Day Blowout. Held at Tina's house, four o'clock sharp. Mercedes was wondering if you would be interested in bringing a CD or two. Apparently you have decent taste." Honestly, Puck didn't know how to reply. He could tell the little twerp wanted this party just as much as Puck did. And no way in hell could Puck go. Seeing Rachel, back with Finn-- it would kill him. But something told him he wanted to go, or he was going to regret it.
"Fine. Fine, I'll do it."
"Excellent." Kurt replied dully. "See you tomorrow at Glee."
Thursday, at least the school day, seemed to matter to Puck as much as Monday and Tuesday did. All he wanted was to get to Glee-- the only time in the day he could at least somewhat feel good.
He and Rachel still didn't talk much, except to nod some and greet each other, but this was actually a comfort. Because when he was in Glee, he saw that Rachel never sat by Finn. Or even looked at him. And vice versa. He was a complete asshole to even feel the small twinge of triumph, or pleasure at this, but he couldn't help it. It just made himself feel better knowing he at least still made contact with Rachel. Although not by much.
The meeting started out as usual-- Mr. Schue giving them a high and mighty State prep talk-- winning Regionals two weeks ago had been a great boost for him. It was only halfway through when he announced a new number he wanted to give a try.
Are you actually serious?" Santana whined.
"I met a Pogue once..." Brittany announced, "It wasn't very friendly."
"That's rogue Brittany, not pogue." Artie informed her. Mr. Schue looked at Rachel.
"What do you think?"
"Well, I certainly can't say Fairytale of New York is my first
choice, but this one is a very lovely song that I've heard throughout my childhood. Fine choice." she beamed up at the director, and he grinned back.
"It isn't quite in season, but it's a classic," he raved, clearly psyched about his choice. "Now obviously we need a second singer," his eyes lingered on Finn for a moment, but suddenly darted to the back. "Puck." he announced. "Why don't you do it for us today?" Puck was smart enough not to say "Me?" like some freaked out loser, but it was on the tip of his tongue. His mom adored the Pogues. He knew the song well. And he wanted anything else than to sing it with Rachel. Or rather with Rachel at this particular time. This week. Only a couple days afterwards...
But he got up anyway, he knew he had no choice in the matter either way. He stood kind of awkwardly, facing Rachel. She was wearing the thinnest, and by far the shortest skirt of her collection, and her hair looked really thick and shiny. He licked his dry lips, anxious. Mr. Schue cued the music.
"It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me: won't see another one
And then they sang a song
The rare old mountain dew
I turned my face away and dreamed about you,"
he dared a look up from his paper; Rachel's face was unreadable.
"Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
Where all our dreams come true."
He looked up again, as Rachel began to sing.
"They got cars big as bars
They got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old
When you first took my hand on a cold Christmas eve
You promised me broadway was waiting for me
You were handsome,"
"You were pretty
Queen of New York City,"
"When the band finished playing they yelled out for more
Sinatra was swinging all the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night.
And the boys from the NYPD choir were singing Galway Bay
And the bells were ringing out for Christmas Day."
A ten second break from vocals, and Rachel began a sort of swaying, swinging sort of dance. Puck did his best to imitate. Her face, he realized, was beginning to gain that shine that she got when she sang. And she was singing with him. She began again,
"You're a bum you're a punk,"
"You're an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed,"
"You scumbag you maggot
You cheap lousy braggart
Happy Christmas your arse I pray God it's our last."
And again, both their voices began to ring, as Rachel leapt and ran around him, laughing, and Puck didn't need to run around with her to look like he had a part-- just her, enjoying herself, was enough for any audience.
"And the boys of the NYPD choir's still singing Galway Bay
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas Day."
Puck went on, "I could have been someone,"
"Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you,"
"I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it out alone
I've built my dreams around you,"
Then came the swelling of the last singing of the chorus, and Puck could practically feel Rachel's energy from the number pounding in his ears, his heart.
"And the boys of the NYPD choir's still singing Galway Bay
And the bells are ringing out
For Christmas Day."
The music faded away. Puck was left staring into Rachel's eyes, hardly hearing the cheers and whoops from the rest of the club, or Mr. Schuester's strong compliments and encouragements. Basically, she was all he saw. And a moment later, her eyes darted down to the floor, then swiftly turned to Mr. Schue to discuss the performance. She was gone. But before she had left, he had seen it in her flushed smile-- something that resembled longing.
Note: Haha, I know Fairytale of New York has some naaauuughty words in it, I changed around the worst. Hopefully Glee club would still accept it. If you really want to know who's singing when (I don't know if that's a tad confusing, the way I have it written), link
where you can hear the whole song.