(Glee, Puck/Rachel) here she comes again
Title: here she comes again
Author: vnilla
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Rachel, background Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4072
Summary: Puck falls for his best friend's girl. Again. This work features homemade cookies, a Rachel & Santana duet, a hot dog eating contest, and a whole lot of solos about, like, feelings.
Author's Notes: This started off as a comment in the Doomed Ships Comment Ficathon, but then it grew to epic proportions. It also ignores the second season, so it's technically AU.
It's been routine for weeks before he notices it as such. Have a shitty day, end up in Rachel Berry's kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate. Not as gay as it sounds: he always spikes the cocoa (the first time she noticed him pulling out the flask he just said What? and then she rolled her eyes), and she never makes him talk about his feelings. The last one is kind of surprising, since she's a chick and all, but she loves the sound of her own voice way more. That he'd known even before the, like, thirty seconds they dated.
So it's relaxing, just having to sit in the ridiculously clean Berry kitchen and listen to Rachel babble about Broadway legends. There's nobody around waiting for him to throw someone in a Dumpster or set fire to the auditorium curtains (pre-New Directions, okay). Rachel actually expects better of him or some shit, which is crazy when even his mother is used to her delinquent son by now. (Not happy with it, but definitely used to it.) Anyway, hanging out with Rachel is--nice.
Which is how he almost ends up in another fight in the music room, 'cause before practice, Rachel strolls in with Finn and asks, “Noah, next time you're over my house, can you please leave some cookies for my dads?” He's pretty sure it's deliberate. Finn just shrugs that news off, which means he either already knew or he's just the kind of guy who’s able to trust his shitty best friend around his new girlfriend. Quinn is too wrapped up with Mercedes and Kurt to care (and since when is Quinn Fabray okay with being Fag Hag #2?), but Santana, Old Faithful Fountain of Bitch, lets out a snort.
"Shut up, lesbo," he shoots, and scores, because Santana's an idiot if she thinks no one's noticed how Brittany's stopped fooling around with anything with a pulse.
Mike and Brittany are able to hold Santana back from scratching his face off, and Puck's distracted by Rachel staring at him with these big hurt brown eyes. Whatever, it's not like he wasn't saying even more offensive shit forty minutes ago, but now today sucks and he can't go eat his weight in homemade oatmeal goodness while Rachel sings "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" for the eleven millionth time. Plus, when practice starts, Rachel invites Santana up to sing a very pointed version of "Take Me Or Leave Me." Puck's too terrified of their joining forces, even temporarily, to appreciate the hotness.
Puck spends the next few days terrorizing freshmen, but his heart's not in it. Mostly he's building up a suitable cushion of asshole-ness before Friday afternoon, when he tells Brittany that he'll be the fourth guy for the routine she's choreographing. She jumps up and down and says something about how Finn can still be part of the routine, "the not moving part."
Santana says, "You are so pathetic, Puckerman," which is her way of accepting the apology. Rachel looks almost as confused as Finn, which is a feat, but her tentative smile has Puck feeling pretty good about himself for the first time in what feels like forever.
Which is when he realizes that fuck, he's fallen for his best friend's girlfriend. Again.
The right thing to do is to tell Rachel that their friendship is over, 'cause he can't do that to Finn again, he just can't, but since when has Noah Puckerman ever done the right thing except by accident? He goes over her house right after practice and teases her about the sheer amount of star-shaped cookie cutters she owns, and then he downs, like, four gallons of hot chocolate once he realizes that he's talking way too much just to watch her smile. As usual, Santana is brutally right: he's pathetic.
He spends a week and a half working out "My Best Friend's Girl" on guitar after he looks up the chords online. He's not gonna sing it in front of glee club, 'cause he's not desperate, but he plays it so many times that his mom actually asks him if something's wrong. "Mr. Schue's giving me extra credit if I arrange some stuff for the club," he lies, and then she leaves him alone, just in case her son is actually making an effort to pass his classes.
It's like last year, when he was sitting around (read: screwing cougars) and moping because he's never good enough for the girls he actually wants. Santana and Quinn actually had the decency to tell him, but Rachel just offers the occasional helpful tidbit on how to be less of a dick, like Hazing is not a "time-honored tradition," Noah, and I would prefer you not get yourself expelled. Like following all her advice is gonna make her drop Finn for him.
Still, he's started doing his homework instead of stealing it from classmates. In a fit of raging stupidity, Figgins upped the grade requirements for extracurricular participation, so New Directions now doubles as a study group. Kurt tutors history via changes in fashion, Rachel uses her freaky vocab powers for English, Quinn covers all the sciences, and Santana bludgeons math through their heads while correcting Mr. Schue's Spanish pronunciation. It occurs to Puck that he has a thing for smart chicks. Which, weird.
Puck looks up from finishing his Canterbury Tales chart (Chaucer totally understood guy humor, so English is actually pretty cool now that he has the club to translate Middle English for him) and watches Rachel listening to Tina read one of her poems. She looks adorable with her fists balled under her chin like that.
"I hope you author the book for the brand-new musical that becomes my ticket to stardom," Rachel says in her earnest way, like she's paying a huge compliment. "Your sense of internal rhyme is comparable to that of a young Stephen Sondheim."
"I just liked the way it sounds," Tina says, shrugging like she's embarrassed, but she looks pleased. "I'd rather write for a band than Broadway, though." She laughs at Rachel's expression, and Puck can't help the chuckle that escapes him as he goes back to filling in the last box on his chart.
When he shoves the paper in his backpack and leans back in his chair, he sees Santana watching him. She raises her eyebrows, but she isn't in any position to judge, since Brittany's got her head on her shoulder, taking five from trying to wrap her brain around the Pythagorean theorem. He mouths "whipped" at her. She fires back with "pussy" and smirks. He flips her the bird, since yeah, a real man would tell Rachel how he feels, but a real man doesn’t screw his best friend’s girlfriend twice in two years, either.
It’s taken a lot of fistfights to make Finn and him friends again, too. A lot of too-hard tackles on the field, a lot of provoking him enough to lash out and then not hitting back. They hang out and play video games and don’t talk about last year. They don’t talk about much of anything besides fantasy football and who ate the last of the Cheetos. They’re guys, they’re not going to talk about their feelings and shit. Normally he’d brag to Finn about his latest sexcapades with the moms of Lima, but that would give Finn license to brag about almost getting to second base with Rachel Berry, and no, he’s not gonna make it through that without punching somebody.
“I’m just saying that I could eat way more than sixty-eight hot dogs,” Puck argues, stealing the popcorn. They’ve traded Halo for ESPN. Puck thinks that being a professional eater sounds pretty much like the best career ever. He can’t wait to tell Rachel, if he can ever get ahold of her. She’s gone into full-on Crazy Eyes mode preparing for college auditions, even though she’s still a junior.
“Yeah, but how fast?” Finn asks. “You’d have to do it in ten minutes.”
“I could totally do it in five.”
Which is how he and Finn end up in the hospital with a severe case of Oh sweet fuck, my stomach. His mother alternates between hugging him and ranting to God about her idiot son. Mrs. Hudson appears calmer, but she has one hand wrapped around Finn’s and the other wrapped around Mr. Hummel’s. Judging from the expression on their faces, she’s got one hell of a grip.
The doctor wants to keep them overnight for observation, even though he assures them that they’re going to be fine. This predictably results in Kurt texting Mercedes to come keep them (AKA him) company, which in turn results in the entire glee club descending upon the hospital. Mr. Hummel and Artie bond over attempting to fix the TV on the wall, Santana yells at them for ruining her Saturday night plans, Brittany reveals that she used to eat bars of soap, and Sarah suckers a bunch of his friends into a game of poker and then cheats shamelessly (he’s never been prouder of his little sister). Puck is in the middle of asking the nurse for a sponge bath when Rachel runs in.
To his surprise, she doesn’t throw herself across Finn. Instead, she just takes in the scene, wrapping her arms around herself. No one sees her at first: it’s just him watching her. She meets his eyes and blushes.
“Hey, Rach,” Finn says, and then she crosses the room to hug him.
“I leave you alone for five minutes,” she says, and her smile takes in both of them. To Puck’s surprise, she’s only sitting at Finn’s bedside for a minute before she comes over to hug him, warm and smelling like some kind of flower. He remembers almost kissing her when she was with Asshole McFuckFace. He wonders if he could kiss her now. But then Rachel’s up and offering to bring tea and coffee from the cafeteria, neither of which he’s allowed to have.
The impromptu hospital party ends with his mother threatening his life and then kissing his cheek. Puck milks his illness for three days home from school, until Rachel shows up with his homework in tow. He’s not one to complain about hot chicks on his bed, but he’s willing to make an exception when they show up with a pile of physics.
“You expect me to work in my condition?” he asks.
“It would be a shame for your grades to start slipping now that you have a chance of making the honor roll.”
“The honor roll? Shit, doing your homework makes up for D’s on tests?” He’s impressed in spite of himself.
“Well, you’ll have to start getting C’s on tests to make the honor roll,” Rachel amends. “Normally right now I would make some sort of remark about the low standards of McKinley High, just so you know.”
“Whatever, freak show. I’ll do my work like a good boy if you show me your boobs.”
“Noah, that is entirely inappropriate.”
He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re Finn’s girl doesn’t mean I can’t look.”
“I’m not.”
All of a sudden, he can’t look at her anymore.
“Finn and I tried dating again, but then it just kind of--stopped.” Rachel sounds like she’s fidgeting; he knows she’s nervous because he won’t look at her, which is no mean feat when she’s sitting right in front of him. “I never told you because I, I, there’s always been a certain tension between us, and I like being--”
“--friends,” he finishes bitterly, and fuck, it’s like last year all over again, only now they’re actually friends, he’s been Friend Fucking Zoned. The word keeps echoing around his head like a curse.
“I just don’t want to lose you,” she says in a small voice, and a small voice coming from Rachel Berry means that he has to check to make sure she’s okay. She looks so sad that he leans against her, chin resting on her head, arms encircling her waist from behind. It’s a novel experience, touching a girl and not thinking about her naked.
“Us Jews have to stick together,” he says, and feels her let out the breath she’s been holding. “You totally want to make out with me.”
She laughs. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Despite his best efforts, she spends the rest of her visit sitting in a chair rather than his bed, and she makes him double check his homework.
He thinks he’s doing a good job concealing his misery until Finn smacks him on the back of the head and says, “Dude, why don’t you just show her that you’d be a good boyfriend?”
Puck isn’t so bewildered by the combination of blessing and advice that he doesn’t smack him right back. “I’ve never been a good boyfriend, ever. What makes you think that’s gonna change?”
“Because you’ve changed.” By now they’ve reached the doors to the music room, and Finn inclines his head in their direction. “We’ve all changed.”
“Not that much,” Puck mutters, but then he walks through the doors and looks inside, really looks. Kurt’s telling a story to Mike, Matt, and Mercedes, who are cracking up. Artie is strumming on the guitar as Quinn hums along, with the occasional contribution from Brittany, who is braiding Santana’s hair. Rachel and Tina are having an involved discussion about some TV show they’re both obsessed with, drawing an honest-to-God character relationship diagram in a notebook.
Yeah, okay, maybe everyone in glee club has grown as a person or some shit like that. Puck isn’t about to start going to all his classes (seriously, art is made for skipping) or visiting colleges (whatever, he’s done with this shit after high school) or anything crazy, but hell, maybe he can pull this boyfriend thing off. The whole “Sweet Caroline” deal was only a preview of Noah Puckerman, Awesome Boyfriend.
But it’s hard, trying to really win over a girl as opposed to get her in the back seat of his truck. It has to be another song, of course, it’s the only way he can tell her how he feels without feeling like a giant pussy, but the more he listens to love songs, the more he realizes that they’re all about trying to get laid.
In the end, he has to go with a classic. There’s a reason it’s so enduring.
Keeping the secret from Rachel is harder than he anticipates. At one point, he has to dive across his sheet music to keep her from reading it. She seems kind of hurt that he won’t share his new project with her, but he makes something up about testing his arranging skills without the benefit of her awesome guidance and she’s all smiles again. That makes his heart do a weird flip in the direction of his stomach, and for fuck’s sake, this song better work, because he’s on the verge of slipping pornographic notes into her locker.
He picks Friday as his D-Day, in case he has to spend the weekend in a drunken haze of heartache. Their weekly assignment has something to do with moving on, but it’s not like anyone pays attention to Schue’s themes, anyway. He’s pretty sure Mercedes and Kurt do a kick-ass version of “Unwritten” because they feel like it.
When Puck gets up, he says, “This is for Rachel” right away. No point beating around the bush. He’s got his voice, his guitar, and he’s kind of in love with the girl who’s going to either take over Broadway or kill everyone trying.
So he starts singing “Something” and hopes it’s enough for her.
When he hits the bridge, You’re asking me will my love grow, I don’t know, I don’t know, he pours out all the confusion of the past few months (no, the past year), the sheer fucking insanity of Noah Puckerman putting his heart on the line for Rachel Berry, but stick around and it may show, I don’t know, I don’t know, he’s just asking for a chance, 'cause if he’s finally figured out how to be friends with a girl, he’s ready to be the kind of boyfriend she deserves.
As the last notes fade away, he finally lets himself look her in the eye, because if he did while playing, his hands sure as hell weren’t going to find the right strings. Rachel looks stunned, but he can’t tell if it’s in a good or bad way, ‘cause he already knows she wants all up on, just not if she wants to stick around for the morning after. (God, he is actually becoming a chick.) Which, okay, Rachel would totally always stick around for the morning after and make awesome chocolate chip banana pancakes, but the point is he still doesn’t fucking know if she’ll ever trust him. He wouldn’t even trust himself, except he’s already told Finn he can turn his face into raw hamburger if he ever breaks Rachel’s heart.
Mr. Schue clears his throat to break the silence (too bad Puck’s declared himself a one-woman man, since every glee girl but one is all giggly and smiling) and thanks Puck for his performance. Which, whatever, thank him when it does what it’s supposed to, which is win the heart of his favorite psycho. Rachel doesn’t say a word for all of rehearsal, and it kills him to let her go off. Girls need way, way too much time to think. (Also, he can’t shake the panicked remembrance that she had to think for all of ten seconds after “Sweet Caroline.” Fuck, fuck. He can’t sit still.)
That’s probably why she doesn’t look surprised when she answers the door and finds him standing there with his best hangdog expression. “Do you want some cocoa?” she asks before he can say anything. He just nods, ‘cause he used up all his courage to drive over here, not that he’ll ever admit it.
The hot chocolate burns his tongue, but he keeps drinking so she’ll start talking. Rachel yammers about her upcoming bio test and how hard it is to expand her classical repertoire for college auditions (whatever that means). “I have exquisite diction when it comes to the Romance languages, but German has proved something of a challenge. I’m going to rise to it, of course, but I confess to being somewhat frustrated by the duration of time this requires.” Then Rachel bites her lip and looks away, pushing the plate of cookies closer to him.
“Uh-huh, like cookies are gonna make it all better,” he says, standing up. “Look, I shouldn’t have come here.” He gives her a peck on the forehead before she can do anything horrifying like cry. “I’m gonna stick around, okay? Just--just let it settle.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and reaches for him, but he’s already gone.
By the time Monday rolls around, his ass is so hungover that his mother can’t find it within herself to make him go to school, even though he’s sure she knows why her son has spent the last day and a half puking his guts out. He spends all day spacing out in front of the TV, ignoring all the text messages from the past few days: hey man its gonna be ok (Finn), get ur bitch ass out of bed, Berry wants a real man (Santana), I think you made some headway last week (Quinn), she’ll come around if u know what i mean (Mike, that ass), and Noah, please come back to school. I miss you.
It’s the last text that finally gets him to respond: wear 1 of ur lil skirts and ill be there.
Whatever, it’s not like his mom’s gonna let him stay home for another day, and if he has to rip off the Band-Aid of seeing Rachel again, he might as well have something worth seeing.
The day actually goes pretty okay, ‘cause Santana plants herself (and Brittany, by proxy) right next to him and death glares at anybody who gets too close. At lunch, Finn and Artie run a contest to see how many marshmallows can fit inside the human mouth, which Puck totally owns and not because they’re trying to cheer him up, either. He’s just that much of a badass.
The overwhelming shittiness of his situation doesn’t hit him until glee, when it kicks him between the eyes and punches him right in the stomach, all at the same time like some fucking Bruce Lee action or some shit. Rachel is, in fact, sporting an itty bitty pink skirt, but it’s not for him and it’s never gonna be for him and he can only pray that someday it’s not too awkward for them to do more than say hello.
They warm up and then run through their numbers for regionals a few times. Mr. Schue asks them how they’re doing on this week’s topic, which is apparently “serendipity” or some other made up word, Puck cares sweet fuck all. Schue seems disappointed when all the club does is mutter noncommittally, except then Tina kicks Rachel in the ankle.
“I, um. Have prepared a solo,” Rachel says, taking her usual position at the center of the room. She squares her shoulders and adjusts her impossibly short skirt, and wow, he’s never seen Rachel Berry so nervous before a performance.
“You got it, girlfriend,” Mercedes calls out, and seriously, every single girl in the club seconds that with a thumbs-up. It’s then Puck starts to suspect something.
“This is for Noah,” Rachel says, and she’s got the same sparkle in her eyes that she gets when she talks about Patti LuPone. “It’s entitled ‘Save the Best for Last.’”
Right before she begins, Finn claps him on the shoulder, and that’s the last thing to register before her voice wraps around him like--like--look, he’s no good at descriptions and shit, but her voice is fucking gorgeous, all right? Her face is glowing and for once she’s not closing her eyes as she sings, she’s looking right at him with the sound pouring from her like honey. Just when I thought our chance had passed, you go and save the best for last.
When the song ends, she hardly has time to wait for applause before he pulls her onto his lap and into what has to be the most action this room has ever seen. There are wolf whistles and cheers and Mr. Schue’s traumatized muttering about running a dating service for hormonal teenagers.
And of course there’s Rachel, Rachel who’s still sweet and soft and so tiny in his arms, except she wouldn’t be Rachel if she didn’t try to one-up everyone around her, so the kiss ends up even dirtier than he intended, which is awesome.
“I didn’t mean for my declaration of devotion to be quite so public, but you’ve put yourself out there so many times, I felt that I should do the same,” she informs him after he removes his tongue from her throat.
“Babe, you do whatever your crazy heart wants to,” he tells her, which makes her beam.
The next time he’s in her kitchen, he finishes an entire plate of cookies by himself. The only diversion from their usual routine is that she barely makes it through one song before they’re making out on the counter. Rachel sets a timer so that they’re doing homework when her dads get home, although the giant hickey on her neck raises some eyebrows. (Whoops.)
“You should stay for dinner,” Rachel tells him, slipping a hand into his. “They know you already, but I want to formally introduce my boyfriend.”
And if that’s the way things are now, well, Puck couldn’t ask for better.
Author: vnilla
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Puck/Rachel, background Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4072
Summary: Puck falls for his best friend's girl. Again. This work features homemade cookies, a Rachel & Santana duet, a hot dog eating contest, and a whole lot of solos about, like, feelings.
Author's Notes: This started off as a comment in the Doomed Ships Comment Ficathon, but then it grew to epic proportions. It also ignores the second season, so it's technically AU.
It's been routine for weeks before he notices it as such. Have a shitty day, end up in Rachel Berry's kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate. Not as gay as it sounds: he always spikes the cocoa (the first time she noticed him pulling out the flask he just said What? and then she rolled her eyes), and she never makes him talk about his feelings. The last one is kind of surprising, since she's a chick and all, but she loves the sound of her own voice way more. That he'd known even before the, like, thirty seconds they dated.
So it's relaxing, just having to sit in the ridiculously clean Berry kitchen and listen to Rachel babble about Broadway legends. There's nobody around waiting for him to throw someone in a Dumpster or set fire to the auditorium curtains (pre-New Directions, okay). Rachel actually expects better of him or some shit, which is crazy when even his mother is used to her delinquent son by now. (Not happy with it, but definitely used to it.) Anyway, hanging out with Rachel is--nice.
Which is how he almost ends up in another fight in the music room, 'cause before practice, Rachel strolls in with Finn and asks, “Noah, next time you're over my house, can you please leave some cookies for my dads?” He's pretty sure it's deliberate. Finn just shrugs that news off, which means he either already knew or he's just the kind of guy who’s able to trust his shitty best friend around his new girlfriend. Quinn is too wrapped up with Mercedes and Kurt to care (and since when is Quinn Fabray okay with being Fag Hag #2?), but Santana, Old Faithful Fountain of Bitch, lets out a snort.
"Shut up, lesbo," he shoots, and scores, because Santana's an idiot if she thinks no one's noticed how Brittany's stopped fooling around with anything with a pulse.
Mike and Brittany are able to hold Santana back from scratching his face off, and Puck's distracted by Rachel staring at him with these big hurt brown eyes. Whatever, it's not like he wasn't saying even more offensive shit forty minutes ago, but now today sucks and he can't go eat his weight in homemade oatmeal goodness while Rachel sings "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" for the eleven millionth time. Plus, when practice starts, Rachel invites Santana up to sing a very pointed version of "Take Me Or Leave Me." Puck's too terrified of their joining forces, even temporarily, to appreciate the hotness.
Puck spends the next few days terrorizing freshmen, but his heart's not in it. Mostly he's building up a suitable cushion of asshole-ness before Friday afternoon, when he tells Brittany that he'll be the fourth guy for the routine she's choreographing. She jumps up and down and says something about how Finn can still be part of the routine, "the not moving part."
Santana says, "You are so pathetic, Puckerman," which is her way of accepting the apology. Rachel looks almost as confused as Finn, which is a feat, but her tentative smile has Puck feeling pretty good about himself for the first time in what feels like forever.
Which is when he realizes that fuck, he's fallen for his best friend's girlfriend. Again.
The right thing to do is to tell Rachel that their friendship is over, 'cause he can't do that to Finn again, he just can't, but since when has Noah Puckerman ever done the right thing except by accident? He goes over her house right after practice and teases her about the sheer amount of star-shaped cookie cutters she owns, and then he downs, like, four gallons of hot chocolate once he realizes that he's talking way too much just to watch her smile. As usual, Santana is brutally right: he's pathetic.
He spends a week and a half working out "My Best Friend's Girl" on guitar after he looks up the chords online. He's not gonna sing it in front of glee club, 'cause he's not desperate, but he plays it so many times that his mom actually asks him if something's wrong. "Mr. Schue's giving me extra credit if I arrange some stuff for the club," he lies, and then she leaves him alone, just in case her son is actually making an effort to pass his classes.
It's like last year, when he was sitting around (read: screwing cougars) and moping because he's never good enough for the girls he actually wants. Santana and Quinn actually had the decency to tell him, but Rachel just offers the occasional helpful tidbit on how to be less of a dick, like Hazing is not a "time-honored tradition," Noah, and I would prefer you not get yourself expelled. Like following all her advice is gonna make her drop Finn for him.
Still, he's started doing his homework instead of stealing it from classmates. In a fit of raging stupidity, Figgins upped the grade requirements for extracurricular participation, so New Directions now doubles as a study group. Kurt tutors history via changes in fashion, Rachel uses her freaky vocab powers for English, Quinn covers all the sciences, and Santana bludgeons math through their heads while correcting Mr. Schue's Spanish pronunciation. It occurs to Puck that he has a thing for smart chicks. Which, weird.
Puck looks up from finishing his Canterbury Tales chart (Chaucer totally understood guy humor, so English is actually pretty cool now that he has the club to translate Middle English for him) and watches Rachel listening to Tina read one of her poems. She looks adorable with her fists balled under her chin like that.
"I hope you author the book for the brand-new musical that becomes my ticket to stardom," Rachel says in her earnest way, like she's paying a huge compliment. "Your sense of internal rhyme is comparable to that of a young Stephen Sondheim."
"I just liked the way it sounds," Tina says, shrugging like she's embarrassed, but she looks pleased. "I'd rather write for a band than Broadway, though." She laughs at Rachel's expression, and Puck can't help the chuckle that escapes him as he goes back to filling in the last box on his chart.
When he shoves the paper in his backpack and leans back in his chair, he sees Santana watching him. She raises her eyebrows, but she isn't in any position to judge, since Brittany's got her head on her shoulder, taking five from trying to wrap her brain around the Pythagorean theorem. He mouths "whipped" at her. She fires back with "pussy" and smirks. He flips her the bird, since yeah, a real man would tell Rachel how he feels, but a real man doesn’t screw his best friend’s girlfriend twice in two years, either.
It’s taken a lot of fistfights to make Finn and him friends again, too. A lot of too-hard tackles on the field, a lot of provoking him enough to lash out and then not hitting back. They hang out and play video games and don’t talk about last year. They don’t talk about much of anything besides fantasy football and who ate the last of the Cheetos. They’re guys, they’re not going to talk about their feelings and shit. Normally he’d brag to Finn about his latest sexcapades with the moms of Lima, but that would give Finn license to brag about almost getting to second base with Rachel Berry, and no, he’s not gonna make it through that without punching somebody.
“I’m just saying that I could eat way more than sixty-eight hot dogs,” Puck argues, stealing the popcorn. They’ve traded Halo for ESPN. Puck thinks that being a professional eater sounds pretty much like the best career ever. He can’t wait to tell Rachel, if he can ever get ahold of her. She’s gone into full-on Crazy Eyes mode preparing for college auditions, even though she’s still a junior.
“Yeah, but how fast?” Finn asks. “You’d have to do it in ten minutes.”
“I could totally do it in five.”
Which is how he and Finn end up in the hospital with a severe case of Oh sweet fuck, my stomach. His mother alternates between hugging him and ranting to God about her idiot son. Mrs. Hudson appears calmer, but she has one hand wrapped around Finn’s and the other wrapped around Mr. Hummel’s. Judging from the expression on their faces, she’s got one hell of a grip.
The doctor wants to keep them overnight for observation, even though he assures them that they’re going to be fine. This predictably results in Kurt texting Mercedes to come keep them (AKA him) company, which in turn results in the entire glee club descending upon the hospital. Mr. Hummel and Artie bond over attempting to fix the TV on the wall, Santana yells at them for ruining her Saturday night plans, Brittany reveals that she used to eat bars of soap, and Sarah suckers a bunch of his friends into a game of poker and then cheats shamelessly (he’s never been prouder of his little sister). Puck is in the middle of asking the nurse for a sponge bath when Rachel runs in.
To his surprise, she doesn’t throw herself across Finn. Instead, she just takes in the scene, wrapping her arms around herself. No one sees her at first: it’s just him watching her. She meets his eyes and blushes.
“Hey, Rach,” Finn says, and then she crosses the room to hug him.
“I leave you alone for five minutes,” she says, and her smile takes in both of them. To Puck’s surprise, she’s only sitting at Finn’s bedside for a minute before she comes over to hug him, warm and smelling like some kind of flower. He remembers almost kissing her when she was with Asshole McFuckFace. He wonders if he could kiss her now. But then Rachel’s up and offering to bring tea and coffee from the cafeteria, neither of which he’s allowed to have.
The impromptu hospital party ends with his mother threatening his life and then kissing his cheek. Puck milks his illness for three days home from school, until Rachel shows up with his homework in tow. He’s not one to complain about hot chicks on his bed, but he’s willing to make an exception when they show up with a pile of physics.
“You expect me to work in my condition?” he asks.
“It would be a shame for your grades to start slipping now that you have a chance of making the honor roll.”
“The honor roll? Shit, doing your homework makes up for D’s on tests?” He’s impressed in spite of himself.
“Well, you’ll have to start getting C’s on tests to make the honor roll,” Rachel amends. “Normally right now I would make some sort of remark about the low standards of McKinley High, just so you know.”
“Whatever, freak show. I’ll do my work like a good boy if you show me your boobs.”
“Noah, that is entirely inappropriate.”
He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re Finn’s girl doesn’t mean I can’t look.”
“I’m not.”
All of a sudden, he can’t look at her anymore.
“Finn and I tried dating again, but then it just kind of--stopped.” Rachel sounds like she’s fidgeting; he knows she’s nervous because he won’t look at her, which is no mean feat when she’s sitting right in front of him. “I never told you because I, I, there’s always been a certain tension between us, and I like being--”
“--friends,” he finishes bitterly, and fuck, it’s like last year all over again, only now they’re actually friends, he’s been Friend Fucking Zoned. The word keeps echoing around his head like a curse.
“I just don’t want to lose you,” she says in a small voice, and a small voice coming from Rachel Berry means that he has to check to make sure she’s okay. She looks so sad that he leans against her, chin resting on her head, arms encircling her waist from behind. It’s a novel experience, touching a girl and not thinking about her naked.
“Us Jews have to stick together,” he says, and feels her let out the breath she’s been holding. “You totally want to make out with me.”
She laughs. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Despite his best efforts, she spends the rest of her visit sitting in a chair rather than his bed, and she makes him double check his homework.
He thinks he’s doing a good job concealing his misery until Finn smacks him on the back of the head and says, “Dude, why don’t you just show her that you’d be a good boyfriend?”
Puck isn’t so bewildered by the combination of blessing and advice that he doesn’t smack him right back. “I’ve never been a good boyfriend, ever. What makes you think that’s gonna change?”
“Because you’ve changed.” By now they’ve reached the doors to the music room, and Finn inclines his head in their direction. “We’ve all changed.”
“Not that much,” Puck mutters, but then he walks through the doors and looks inside, really looks. Kurt’s telling a story to Mike, Matt, and Mercedes, who are cracking up. Artie is strumming on the guitar as Quinn hums along, with the occasional contribution from Brittany, who is braiding Santana’s hair. Rachel and Tina are having an involved discussion about some TV show they’re both obsessed with, drawing an honest-to-God character relationship diagram in a notebook.
Yeah, okay, maybe everyone in glee club has grown as a person or some shit like that. Puck isn’t about to start going to all his classes (seriously, art is made for skipping) or visiting colleges (whatever, he’s done with this shit after high school) or anything crazy, but hell, maybe he can pull this boyfriend thing off. The whole “Sweet Caroline” deal was only a preview of Noah Puckerman, Awesome Boyfriend.
But it’s hard, trying to really win over a girl as opposed to get her in the back seat of his truck. It has to be another song, of course, it’s the only way he can tell her how he feels without feeling like a giant pussy, but the more he listens to love songs, the more he realizes that they’re all about trying to get laid.
In the end, he has to go with a classic. There’s a reason it’s so enduring.
Keeping the secret from Rachel is harder than he anticipates. At one point, he has to dive across his sheet music to keep her from reading it. She seems kind of hurt that he won’t share his new project with her, but he makes something up about testing his arranging skills without the benefit of her awesome guidance and she’s all smiles again. That makes his heart do a weird flip in the direction of his stomach, and for fuck’s sake, this song better work, because he’s on the verge of slipping pornographic notes into her locker.
He picks Friday as his D-Day, in case he has to spend the weekend in a drunken haze of heartache. Their weekly assignment has something to do with moving on, but it’s not like anyone pays attention to Schue’s themes, anyway. He’s pretty sure Mercedes and Kurt do a kick-ass version of “Unwritten” because they feel like it.
When Puck gets up, he says, “This is for Rachel” right away. No point beating around the bush. He’s got his voice, his guitar, and he’s kind of in love with the girl who’s going to either take over Broadway or kill everyone trying.
So he starts singing “Something” and hopes it’s enough for her.
When he hits the bridge, You’re asking me will my love grow, I don’t know, I don’t know, he pours out all the confusion of the past few months (no, the past year), the sheer fucking insanity of Noah Puckerman putting his heart on the line for Rachel Berry, but stick around and it may show, I don’t know, I don’t know, he’s just asking for a chance, 'cause if he’s finally figured out how to be friends with a girl, he’s ready to be the kind of boyfriend she deserves.
As the last notes fade away, he finally lets himself look her in the eye, because if he did while playing, his hands sure as hell weren’t going to find the right strings. Rachel looks stunned, but he can’t tell if it’s in a good or bad way, ‘cause he already knows she wants all up on, just not if she wants to stick around for the morning after. (God, he is actually becoming a chick.) Which, okay, Rachel would totally always stick around for the morning after and make awesome chocolate chip banana pancakes, but the point is he still doesn’t fucking know if she’ll ever trust him. He wouldn’t even trust himself, except he’s already told Finn he can turn his face into raw hamburger if he ever breaks Rachel’s heart.
Mr. Schue clears his throat to break the silence (too bad Puck’s declared himself a one-woman man, since every glee girl but one is all giggly and smiling) and thanks Puck for his performance. Which, whatever, thank him when it does what it’s supposed to, which is win the heart of his favorite psycho. Rachel doesn’t say a word for all of rehearsal, and it kills him to let her go off. Girls need way, way too much time to think. (Also, he can’t shake the panicked remembrance that she had to think for all of ten seconds after “Sweet Caroline.” Fuck, fuck. He can’t sit still.)
That’s probably why she doesn’t look surprised when she answers the door and finds him standing there with his best hangdog expression. “Do you want some cocoa?” she asks before he can say anything. He just nods, ‘cause he used up all his courage to drive over here, not that he’ll ever admit it.
The hot chocolate burns his tongue, but he keeps drinking so she’ll start talking. Rachel yammers about her upcoming bio test and how hard it is to expand her classical repertoire for college auditions (whatever that means). “I have exquisite diction when it comes to the Romance languages, but German has proved something of a challenge. I’m going to rise to it, of course, but I confess to being somewhat frustrated by the duration of time this requires.” Then Rachel bites her lip and looks away, pushing the plate of cookies closer to him.
“Uh-huh, like cookies are gonna make it all better,” he says, standing up. “Look, I shouldn’t have come here.” He gives her a peck on the forehead before she can do anything horrifying like cry. “I’m gonna stick around, okay? Just--just let it settle.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and reaches for him, but he’s already gone.
By the time Monday rolls around, his ass is so hungover that his mother can’t find it within herself to make him go to school, even though he’s sure she knows why her son has spent the last day and a half puking his guts out. He spends all day spacing out in front of the TV, ignoring all the text messages from the past few days: hey man its gonna be ok (Finn), get ur bitch ass out of bed, Berry wants a real man (Santana), I think you made some headway last week (Quinn), she’ll come around if u know what i mean (Mike, that ass), and Noah, please come back to school. I miss you.
It’s the last text that finally gets him to respond: wear 1 of ur lil skirts and ill be there.
Whatever, it’s not like his mom’s gonna let him stay home for another day, and if he has to rip off the Band-Aid of seeing Rachel again, he might as well have something worth seeing.
The day actually goes pretty okay, ‘cause Santana plants herself (and Brittany, by proxy) right next to him and death glares at anybody who gets too close. At lunch, Finn and Artie run a contest to see how many marshmallows can fit inside the human mouth, which Puck totally owns and not because they’re trying to cheer him up, either. He’s just that much of a badass.
The overwhelming shittiness of his situation doesn’t hit him until glee, when it kicks him between the eyes and punches him right in the stomach, all at the same time like some fucking Bruce Lee action or some shit. Rachel is, in fact, sporting an itty bitty pink skirt, but it’s not for him and it’s never gonna be for him and he can only pray that someday it’s not too awkward for them to do more than say hello.
They warm up and then run through their numbers for regionals a few times. Mr. Schue asks them how they’re doing on this week’s topic, which is apparently “serendipity” or some other made up word, Puck cares sweet fuck all. Schue seems disappointed when all the club does is mutter noncommittally, except then Tina kicks Rachel in the ankle.
“I, um. Have prepared a solo,” Rachel says, taking her usual position at the center of the room. She squares her shoulders and adjusts her impossibly short skirt, and wow, he’s never seen Rachel Berry so nervous before a performance.
“You got it, girlfriend,” Mercedes calls out, and seriously, every single girl in the club seconds that with a thumbs-up. It’s then Puck starts to suspect something.
“This is for Noah,” Rachel says, and she’s got the same sparkle in her eyes that she gets when she talks about Patti LuPone. “It’s entitled ‘Save the Best for Last.’”
Right before she begins, Finn claps him on the shoulder, and that’s the last thing to register before her voice wraps around him like--like--look, he’s no good at descriptions and shit, but her voice is fucking gorgeous, all right? Her face is glowing and for once she’s not closing her eyes as she sings, she’s looking right at him with the sound pouring from her like honey. Just when I thought our chance had passed, you go and save the best for last.
When the song ends, she hardly has time to wait for applause before he pulls her onto his lap and into what has to be the most action this room has ever seen. There are wolf whistles and cheers and Mr. Schue’s traumatized muttering about running a dating service for hormonal teenagers.
And of course there’s Rachel, Rachel who’s still sweet and soft and so tiny in his arms, except she wouldn’t be Rachel if she didn’t try to one-up everyone around her, so the kiss ends up even dirtier than he intended, which is awesome.
“I didn’t mean for my declaration of devotion to be quite so public, but you’ve put yourself out there so many times, I felt that I should do the same,” she informs him after he removes his tongue from her throat.
“Babe, you do whatever your crazy heart wants to,” he tells her, which makes her beam.
The next time he’s in her kitchen, he finishes an entire plate of cookies by himself. The only diversion from their usual routine is that she barely makes it through one song before they’re making out on the counter. Rachel sets a timer so that they’re doing homework when her dads get home, although the giant hickey on her neck raises some eyebrows. (Whoops.)
“You should stay for dinner,” Rachel tells him, slipping a hand into his. “They know you already, but I want to formally introduce my boyfriend.”
And if that’s the way things are now, well, Puck couldn’t ask for better.