Making Our Way
Title: Making Our Way
Author: puppyloveclub
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Glee
Couple: Puck/Lauren
Notes: I finally finished the next chapter! You will see why I wasn't in a hurry to write it... :( Don't worry, more soon!
Chapter 4
A loud clash of thunder rouses Puck from his nap. He looks at Lauren disoriented, not expecting the torrential rain and powerful winds that are blowing the truck back and forth. Lauren is concentrating hard on the road. Her knuckles white, hands glued at ten and two.
“You alright?” Puck asks her.
“Not really. This shit is really coming down,” she replies, squinting at the darkness in front of her.
Puck sighs and shakes his head. “You should have woke me up.”
“Why?” she asks defensively, “Do you have the ability do make it stop raining?”
“No, but I should be driving,” he says.
Lauren scoffs his misogyny as a long streak of lightning ignites the whole sky in front of them.
“It’s really bad,” she says as the horizon returns to darkness, “We should just pull over somewhere. This wind is crazy.” She unglues her eyes from the road for a moment to gage his reaction, but his face is pointed out his window.
“It’s fine. We’re fine,” he says haughtily, “Pull into that rest stop.”
Unsure of his plan, Lauren merges into the right lane and exits, coming to a halt in the parking lot outside an old Pennsylvania rest stop. The lot is crowded with cars of travelers who have given into the storm.
She shuts off the engine and sits back in her seat, finally relaxing her arms. As she turns to Puck, he swings open his door and jumps out into the rain, slamming it behind him. Confused, Lauren follows him with her eyes as he sprints around the front of the truck to her door. He tries to open it, but it’s locked. Tired and disoriented, Lauren just looks at him through her window for a moment.
“Lauren!” he shouts, “Open the door!”
She lifts up the lock and inches open the door. He pulls it the rest of the way hurriedly and comes close to her. “Scoot over.”
Lauren shakes her head in disapproval and awkwardly slides into the passenger side of the bench seat. Drenched from just a few moments out of the car, Puck climbs all the way into the driver’s seat and turns the engine on.
Lauren puts her hand gently on his right arm. “Seriously, why don’t we just wait a while?” He moves the arm to adjust the rear-view mirror.
“Nah, let’s just keep going,” he replies as he throws the car into reverse and backs out of the parking space. Another loud clash of thunder rattles the windows. Lauren sighs and sits back in her seat.
Fifteen miles later, the weather is no better. Lauren swears it is even getting worse, as the bolts of lighting and booms of thunder get more and more frequent and the wind blows the rain horizontally into their windshield.
“This is insane, Puckerman,” Lauren says forcefully as she watches out the passenger window.
“It’s just a little rain, Zizes,” he says coldly.
She cocks her head and tells him crossly, “I’m confused. Are you a badass? Or just a dumbass? This is because Jacob Ben Israel said I have your balls, isn’t it?”
Lauren’s cell phone rings loudly before he can respond. “Tina” she reads and hits a button to answer it, “Hello, from my personal Hell.”
Puck looks at her just long enough to roll his eyes then returns his concentration to the road.
“Yeah, we are still in Pennsylvania, like 5 hours away. Probably more. It’s storming really bad, but Evel Knievel refuses to stop.” As Tina talks, Lauren looks at Puck, but he doesn’t react.
Suddenly, he waves his hand in Lauren’s face, keeping his eyes on the beam of light created by the headlights in front of them. “Is she with Mike? Let me talk to him.”
Swatting his hand away, she tells Tina, “He wants to know if you’re with Mike Chang.” Listening to the long-winded response, Lauren covers the mouthpiece and tells Puck “He just went down to Artie and Kurt’s room.”
“Tell her to tell him to include me in whatever booze they get for tonight,” he instructs Lauren, “I prefer whiskey, but I’ll drink any liquor they can get.” Lauren rolls her eyes and shoos him with her hand. She says goodbye to Tina without ever passing along the drink order.
“It’s almost 9, Puck. There’s no way we’re making it there in time for any of that,” she says to him.
Again, he doesn’t respond, just shifts from his left to his right hand on the top of the steering wheel. She feels the truck pick up some speed. She can hear the wind pushing at the windows.
Lauren ejects the mix from the CD player and turns the radio dial. She keeps it on a station broadcasting ominous beeps.
“The National Weather Service has issued a Severe Thunderstorm Warning for all counties of Central Pennsylvania” Lauren looks at Puck pleadingly and continues to listen intently, “Much of the area has seen flash-flooding this evening and there have been reports of funnel clouds across Pennsylvania. Drivers are recommended to pull over and seek shelter. Do not stay on the roads if not absolutely necessary.”
Lauren feels a moment of relief, certain he must be convinced to stop.
“It’s fine. I can drive in this,” he says, like he’s trying to assure himself.
“Did you seriously not hear that?” she nearly yells at him, tears in her voice.
“Lauren,” he tells her, reaching across the seat to pat her knee, “We have to keep going. We are going to get there tonight.”
She pulls away from him and leans against the window. “I am so not willing to die in the name of Show Choir.”
Puck doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head again, never making eye contact.
“This is all about the party tonight, isn’t it?” she adds. The question lingers in the air for a long time.
This silence is the loudest of their argument. After a minute or two, they both notice blue and red flashing lights breaking through the darkness up ahead. Flares line the sides of the road and the few cars left driving are slowing down.
When they get close enough to see, they realize that two police cars are blocking the road up ahead and a policeman in a rain slicker is directing vehicles towards an exit.
When they reach him, Puck cranks down his window. Immediately water starts to splash into the truck.
“What’s going on?” he asks the policeman.
“Trees down on the road up ahead,” he shouts back through the wind, “The road’s closed until the crew and can come in and clear it out.”
“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Puck asks the man.
“Son, there is no reason to be driving in this,” he pauses, “The road should be cleared by morning. Hopefully, the storm will let up.”
Puck nods to him and quickly rolls he window back up. “Fuck!” he yells the moment it is closed. He signals to change lanes and follow the remaining drivers off of the highway.
Author: puppyloveclub
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Glee
Couple: Puck/Lauren
Notes: I finally finished the next chapter! You will see why I wasn't in a hurry to write it... :( Don't worry, more soon!
Chapter 4
A loud clash of thunder rouses Puck from his nap. He looks at Lauren disoriented, not expecting the torrential rain and powerful winds that are blowing the truck back and forth. Lauren is concentrating hard on the road. Her knuckles white, hands glued at ten and two.
“You alright?” Puck asks her.
“Not really. This shit is really coming down,” she replies, squinting at the darkness in front of her.
Puck sighs and shakes his head. “You should have woke me up.”
“Why?” she asks defensively, “Do you have the ability do make it stop raining?”
“No, but I should be driving,” he says.
Lauren scoffs his misogyny as a long streak of lightning ignites the whole sky in front of them.
“It’s really bad,” she says as the horizon returns to darkness, “We should just pull over somewhere. This wind is crazy.” She unglues her eyes from the road for a moment to gage his reaction, but his face is pointed out his window.
“It’s fine. We’re fine,” he says haughtily, “Pull into that rest stop.”
Unsure of his plan, Lauren merges into the right lane and exits, coming to a halt in the parking lot outside an old Pennsylvania rest stop. The lot is crowded with cars of travelers who have given into the storm.
She shuts off the engine and sits back in her seat, finally relaxing her arms. As she turns to Puck, he swings open his door and jumps out into the rain, slamming it behind him. Confused, Lauren follows him with her eyes as he sprints around the front of the truck to her door. He tries to open it, but it’s locked. Tired and disoriented, Lauren just looks at him through her window for a moment.
“Lauren!” he shouts, “Open the door!”
She lifts up the lock and inches open the door. He pulls it the rest of the way hurriedly and comes close to her. “Scoot over.”
Lauren shakes her head in disapproval and awkwardly slides into the passenger side of the bench seat. Drenched from just a few moments out of the car, Puck climbs all the way into the driver’s seat and turns the engine on.
Lauren puts her hand gently on his right arm. “Seriously, why don’t we just wait a while?” He moves the arm to adjust the rear-view mirror.
“Nah, let’s just keep going,” he replies as he throws the car into reverse and backs out of the parking space. Another loud clash of thunder rattles the windows. Lauren sighs and sits back in her seat.
Fifteen miles later, the weather is no better. Lauren swears it is even getting worse, as the bolts of lighting and booms of thunder get more and more frequent and the wind blows the rain horizontally into their windshield.
“This is insane, Puckerman,” Lauren says forcefully as she watches out the passenger window.
“It’s just a little rain, Zizes,” he says coldly.
She cocks her head and tells him crossly, “I’m confused. Are you a badass? Or just a dumbass? This is because Jacob Ben Israel said I have your balls, isn’t it?”
Lauren’s cell phone rings loudly before he can respond. “Tina” she reads and hits a button to answer it, “Hello, from my personal Hell.”
Puck looks at her just long enough to roll his eyes then returns his concentration to the road.
“Yeah, we are still in Pennsylvania, like 5 hours away. Probably more. It’s storming really bad, but Evel Knievel refuses to stop.” As Tina talks, Lauren looks at Puck, but he doesn’t react.
Suddenly, he waves his hand in Lauren’s face, keeping his eyes on the beam of light created by the headlights in front of them. “Is she with Mike? Let me talk to him.”
Swatting his hand away, she tells Tina, “He wants to know if you’re with Mike Chang.” Listening to the long-winded response, Lauren covers the mouthpiece and tells Puck “He just went down to Artie and Kurt’s room.”
“Tell her to tell him to include me in whatever booze they get for tonight,” he instructs Lauren, “I prefer whiskey, but I’ll drink any liquor they can get.” Lauren rolls her eyes and shoos him with her hand. She says goodbye to Tina without ever passing along the drink order.
“It’s almost 9, Puck. There’s no way we’re making it there in time for any of that,” she says to him.
Again, he doesn’t respond, just shifts from his left to his right hand on the top of the steering wheel. She feels the truck pick up some speed. She can hear the wind pushing at the windows.
Lauren ejects the mix from the CD player and turns the radio dial. She keeps it on a station broadcasting ominous beeps.
“The National Weather Service has issued a Severe Thunderstorm Warning for all counties of Central Pennsylvania” Lauren looks at Puck pleadingly and continues to listen intently, “Much of the area has seen flash-flooding this evening and there have been reports of funnel clouds across Pennsylvania. Drivers are recommended to pull over and seek shelter. Do not stay on the roads if not absolutely necessary.”
Lauren feels a moment of relief, certain he must be convinced to stop.
“It’s fine. I can drive in this,” he says, like he’s trying to assure himself.
“Did you seriously not hear that?” she nearly yells at him, tears in her voice.
“Lauren,” he tells her, reaching across the seat to pat her knee, “We have to keep going. We are going to get there tonight.”
She pulls away from him and leans against the window. “I am so not willing to die in the name of Show Choir.”
Puck doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head again, never making eye contact.
“This is all about the party tonight, isn’t it?” she adds. The question lingers in the air for a long time.
This silence is the loudest of their argument. After a minute or two, they both notice blue and red flashing lights breaking through the darkness up ahead. Flares line the sides of the road and the few cars left driving are slowing down.
When they get close enough to see, they realize that two police cars are blocking the road up ahead and a policeman in a rain slicker is directing vehicles towards an exit.
When they reach him, Puck cranks down his window. Immediately water starts to splash into the truck.
“What’s going on?” he asks the policeman.
“Trees down on the road up ahead,” he shouts back through the wind, “The road’s closed until the crew and can come in and clear it out.”
“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Puck asks the man.
“Son, there is no reason to be driving in this,” he pauses, “The road should be cleared by morning. Hopefully, the storm will let up.”
Puck nods to him and quickly rolls he window back up. “Fuck!” he yells the moment it is closed. He signals to change lanes and follow the remaining drivers off of the highway.