Follow Me
Title: Follow Me
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: AU: Puck and Rachel are detectives and partners. Or, Sheena watches too much Brooklyn Nine Nine.
Word Count: 6,552
Disclaimer: Don't own.
"I brought you a coffee." The cup lands on his desk just as he looks away from his computer screen, and Rachel's standing there looking like she works teaching fucking high school English instead of as a detective for the NYPD. As usual. Her hair's pulled back, too, which is weird since she's been wearing it down more lately. Not that he cares. He just notices. "I figured you might need an extra one this morning, because I heard you and Finn went out drinking after you left here last night."
Puck smirks, takes the coffee and leans back in his chair. "Jealous?"
Yeah, whatever. She made moony eyes at Finn for like six months after the guy transferred in from a precinct upstate. And Puck wasn't jealous, or anything. Mostly because he knows she'd never cross the line and fraternize, or whatever word she'd use. But he's fucking positive that if Finn worked for a different precinct in the city, she'd be throwing her sensible white panties at him after stepping out of her JC Penny pantsuit.
He doesn't care. He just likes to bust her chops. Just like he'd do with a male partner. And he's careful what he says because A: they're pretty serious about sexual harassment around here, and rightly so, and B: he just can't possibly sit through another one of her tangents about how her personal life is none of his business and yadda, yadda, yadda.
Rachel just tilts her head at him and kinks her brow, one hand coming to rest on her hip. He knew she'd do it, too, so it just makes him smile and lift the coffee cup a bit before taking a sip.
"Thanks for this."
"You're welcome," she says, taking her seat at the desk across from his. She's got a tidy stack of case files on her desk, and a picture of her dads, but other than that it's totally tidy and clear. His own desk has a bunch of shit, files everywhere, post-its stuck to everything so he doesn't forget stuff, and yesterday's coffee mug still sitting there mostly empty. "Were you out late?"
"Not very. I was in bed by 1:00. Hudson's a lightweight." Rachel laughs a little. "And if I got shitfaced every time some chick broke his heart, I'd never be sober again."
Trying way too hard not to smile, Rachel stares at her computer screen and tells him, "That's not very nice." Puck shrugs. He's right. Huddy's got shit luck, but also brings it upon himself by thinking he's fucking in love with every woman who walks past him. "I'm sure, at least, he can hold his liquor better than I can."
"Berry, my nana can old her liquor better than you can."
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. He knows what pisses her off and what doesn't. After being partners for 18 months, he's got a good read on what lines to cross and which ones he should keep a safe distance from. Shit, when she first started, before he knew her full story, he made a crack about how she couldn't cut it on Broadway (a quick Google told him when she was 18 she was the lead in a show). The joke didn't land, and she ended up practically whispering at him, which he now knows she does when she's really and truly good and pissed off, and walking towards him, making him back up until he bumped into a desk behind him. He's not gonna lie, that shit was intimidating as fuck, and he doesn't even think she was trying. You wouldn't think a 105 pound woman in a pink button down shirt and an honest-to-god string of pearls could pull of being threatening, but let's just say Puck doesn't ever really want to be on her bad side. He hasn't even seen the full extent of it, but he'd bet she's fucking ruthless.
Captain Elliot steps out of her office and calls his and Rachel's last names, so he swings around in his chair to look at her.
"Armed robbery in Hell's Kitchen. Looks like the same signature as the last three in Midtown."
"On it," Puck says, standing and grabbing his coat. Rachel gets up, too, and she's already at the elevator, pressing the button, when he mutters, "Fuck," and runs back to his desk to grab his coffee.
Rachel looks at him knowingly once they're in the elevator, runs her knuckles over the five o'clock shadow on his jaw and asks, grinning, "How many beers did you say you had last night?"
He's too distracted by how nice that felt to come up with something snarky to say.
… … …
"Nice solve, Berry," Captain Elliot says, closing the file on her desk. Rachel's standing there with her hands clasped in front of her, practically beaming at the recognition, and Puck's looking between them waiting for one of them to acknowledge that Rachel didn't catch this murderer completely on her own. "How'd you know he'd give the victims' jewelry to his mother?"
"It reminded me of this case I studied." Puck rolls his eyes. Here we go. The single most annoying thing Rachel does is remind people every single chance she gets that she was pre-law before joining the Academy. "Except the suspect gave the things he stole from his victims to his girlfriend, but anyway, this reminded me of that."
"Yeah, I think I saw that episode of Criminal Minds, too," Puck says, because fuck it, just 'cause her book smarts got them there faster doesn't mean he wouldn't have made the connection, too.
And his comment gets a laugh from the Captain, so it was worth the pissy look on Rachel's face and the way she crosses her arms. Honestly, she'd look a hell of a lot more badass if there weren't little birds printed on her top.
He's sitting at his desk already when Rachel walks by him, saying, "Are you that insecure that you can't just let me have the win once in a while?"
"Detecting's a team game, Berry. And I'm not insecure."
"Funny how you say it's a team game when I'm doing the solving, but when you break the case, it's all gloating and implying you don't need a partner."
He narrows his eyes. "I've never said that." It's true. He hasn't. "If I didn't have a partner, who'd clear rooms for me before I go in and arrest the bad guys?"
Yeah, he's totally joking, because he doesn't like it when she's mad at him. Whatever.
Rachel just shakes her head and doesn't look at him. He's gonna have to apologize. Which sucks and he hates apologizing.
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm glad you broke the case. My ego just wants me to be the one who makes all the big discoveries." Rachel rolls her eyes. He knows she gets it. "I'll be less of a dick next time. Promise."
She says, "We'll see," and reaches for a pen to start on some paperwork he knows she was ignoring in favour of working this case.
Honestly, she looks kind of cute, back straight and posture perfect, filling out the appropriate forms and typing shit so she can finish up her open files and get them off her desk. He's doing the same thing, just doesn't look as good as she does doing it. Well fuck, that might not even be true; look at him. And maybe some people wouldn't look at Rachel - or listen to her - and find her attractive, but he can't say he doesn't. He's got this theory about being partners with women: You either develop a brother-sister relationship, or you wanna sleep together. Who the hell knows if that's accurate at all? All he knows is it's happened to him a couple times. And shit, he and Santana are like fucking siblings at this point. Yeah, she's gorgeous, but she's also terrifying and easily the best cop he's ever worked with. Not saying Rachel's not great, it's just different. Puck literally watched Santana pull out her gun and hold it to a suspect's head in an alley in order to get him to confess. She's fucking hardcore. It took about three weeks for him to see her as a coworker, not someone he wanted to take to bed.
It's been close to two years with Rachel, and looking at her like this just…Fuck, he has these moments of wanting her that usually pass quickly and happen at pretty predictable moments.
Watching her do fucking paperwork is a new one.
(Watching her put a guy in a choke hold to get him to drop his weapon? Shit, anyone would've found that hot.)
"Let's go for a beer," he says after checking the time and seeing that their shift ends in about two minutes.
Rachel narrows her eyes and looks at him. "Can I pick the bar?"
Puck scoffs. "No." She laughs out loud, but tilts her head at him like he's being unreasonable. "Last time you picked, it was that god awful piano bar. I wanted to blow my brains out."
Slight exaggeration. She scoffs at him and shakes her head.
"You, predictably, always go to the same place."
"It's a cop bar! It's right around the corner! Of course I always go to the same place."
Rachel stands and reaches for her blazer, then pulls her handbag out of her desk drawer and hitches it over her shoulder. "Fine. You're buying."
Puck grins, says, "Deal," and watches her walk towards the elevator as he pulls his coat on over his shoulders.
How her ass looks that good in that dumb outfit is beyond him.
… … …
He has a shit awful day. Rachel was pulled in on this attempted murder case because she's got experience in handwriting analysis and whoever tried to kill this shady investment banker left a note. Something like that. Puck wasn't really listening. He ended up working with Santana on a stupid arson case that could've been handled by the fire department if their new investigator wasn't, from what Puck can tell, totally green and 90 percent useless. And if you think he didn't want to be there, you should've seen Santana's attitude on the whole thing. She was downright miserable to just about everyone they encountered. And, in her words, she didn't give a flying rat turd about the greasy auto shop someone threw a match at. So if anyone had a worse day than him, it was her. They didn't get anywhere on the case, even after spending the whole day sifting through charred rubble and wearing fucking masks so they could hopefully avoid breathing in something that's gonna end up giving them cancer or a sixth toe or some shit.
Puck only came back to the precinct because he accidentally left his wallet at his desk - which Santana bitched at him for because she had to spring for lunch. He grabs a $10 from his wallet and drops it on her desk, where she's working on something he's got little to no interest in.
"Where's Berry?" he asks nobody in particular, and Evans, the rookie who Puck isn't sure doesn't piss his pants every day, opens his mouth but closes it before he says anything. The guy looks terrified all the time and no one around here has much use for that, to be honest. "Spit it out, new guy."
"She and Detective Hudson solved the case. I think they…"
"What?" Puck snaps, and Santana laughs when Evans visibly flinches.
"Went out."
Puck sighs. Not because he thinks it's fucking absurd that this guy can't even form a sentence without looking like he's about to cry and doesn't honestly know what the kid'll do if he's ever in a situation where he has to draw his gun or something. But because - and he didn't even realize it until this very moment - he's just a little bit worried that Rachel's stupid crush on Finn might still be kicking around somewhere.
Look, she's dated people since they became partners. And lord knows he has, too. And Puck hasn't been jealous of the morons she dates, because he can see within about 20 seconds whether or not it's going to last, and, well, Rachel's got shit awful taste. Seriously, there was the guy Puck could see was gay from 10 miles away even if the guy didn't realize it himself. And there was Steve, the surgeon whose ego rivalled Puck's, and that's saying something. And Robert, who was so obsessed with The Hunger Games that he wore that bird pin thing on the lapel of his suit jacket. And Gavin, the music writer, who was pretty awesome, actually, until he got sick of Rachel's crazy work schedule and told her he didn't think it was going to work out. Her most recent was Colin, who's Santana's old roommate's cousin, but he lives in Syracuse, so that was a short-lived fling.
Honestly, Finn's the only guy who's been around long enough for Puck to worry about, and he can't get a read on whether or not Rachel's still into the guy.
He shouldn't be worried about it at all, and he doesn't want to think about it, lest he actually fucking admit that the reason he judges all her boyfriends so hard is because he wants her to be with him.
He doesn't even know when that shit might have started, to be honest with you. But it doesn't really matter and he's not the guy who mopes around and dwells on it. He's the guy who goes to do something about it.
When he walks into the bar - and he wonders if she complained about Finn bringing her here like she complained when Puck did - he sees them sitting there at a high top table. It's loud in here. Friday night in a cop bar. Finn's leaning into her a bit, his hand resting on the back of her chair. But Rachel's just sitting there, hands folded in her lap and a nearly-full beer in front of her.
Puck knows body language. He knows hers, specifically.
He doesn't feel like an asshole when, after ordering a drink, walks over with his beer in his hand and pulls up a chair.
"What's up?" he asks, and Finn gives him this sort of pathetic look that Puck couldn't possibly care less about. Particularly because Rachel gives him this killer smile and turns towards him a bit. "Hey."
"Hi," she says, then sips her beer. He watches her. She's trying…She's doing something. He can't figure out if she's trying to keep her cool for him, or if she's trying to like, subliminally tell him she's not into Finn. Maybe both simultaneously. "Good day?"
"No," Puck scoffs. "Fucking terrible. Dealing with Inspector Idiot and his merry band of useless pricks." Rachel laughs out loud and covers her mouth to keep from spitting or something, and Finn barely stops himself from shooting beer across the room. "You? You caught the guy, right?"
"Accused is a woman," Rachel corrects, and Puck just nods, 'cause really, at this point there's just nothing surprising about the shitty crimes people pull and who commits them. "Disgruntled mistress."
"Classic," Puck mutters, and Finn clears his throat like Puck's interrupting or something. Rachel gives Puck this look like she doesn't want him to leave. Honestly, he sort of wants to go home to get some sleep as soon as he's done his drink. But if Rachel…
Well, fuck. Whatever she wants from him, he's gonna give her. If she wants him to stay here as a buffer 'cause she's not into Finn, he'll do it. If she wants to come home with him and go a couple rounds, he's good for that, too.
Surprises the hell out of Puck when it's Finn who drains his drink and says, "I should get going."
Weird. Like, Rachel's not exactly subtle, but apparently Finn's more clever than Puck gives him credit for.
He winks at Puck, though, which is confusing as fuck.
They say their goodbyes and Rachel lets out an audible sigh and visibly relaxes once Finn's out the door.
"The hell was that all about?"
"I think he thought…I have no idea. I mean, I know I was interested in him when he first arrived, but I just…" Puck just raises his brows and tries not to smile. She's sort of cute when she gets all flustered. "We were just sitting here and I realized he might have thought this meant something it didn't."
"Why would you think he thought that?" Puck asks, and Rachel gives him a shitty look. Not sure where he went wrong there. He was really just asking out of curiosity.
"Right, because it's so ludicrous that a man might be…"
"No," Puck says, and makes the mistake of sort of chuckling. "I'm asking if something happened that might've made him think you wanted to bang."
"Noah," Rachel breathes out. Well. She rarely says his first name at all, and any time she has, it hasn't sounded like that. "I'm not interested in Finn." Step in the right direction. "The only thing I can think is that today I said he's a good detective, and then I'm the one who suggested we get drinks, but that's…You and I always go out for drinks."
Puck bows his head a little and smiles. Yeah, they always go out for drinks, because he wants to hang out with her, even after spending hours on end in a squad car with her.
This is like, the most serious relationship he's ever been in, and it's not even romantic yet.
He walks her home, because she lives super close to the precinct in this apartment building neither him nor any of their coworkers could ever afford. Yeah, Puck lives further downtown and it'll be a bitch getting home at this time of night, but it's not a big deal when he gets on the train and takes a seat, tips his head back a bit.
The way Rachel had said, "Goodnight, Puckerman," as her doorman held the door open for her made Puck feel a little weird. Good weird. He'd just winked at her, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked away. Thing is, it didn't even bother him that he didn't get the invite inside. He figures he's got time.
… … …
He's running after this guy who's running a drug ring that's been selling meth laced with carpet cleaner or some shit. They've been selling the shit like crazy, all in the same 15 block radius. Which means it was easier to catch them because apparently they're not bright enough not to leave clues and patterns. Morons.
But he and Rachel went to this address they were led to and Puck heard the guy going out the window as soon as they'd knocked on the door and said "NYPD". He told Rachel to head back downstairs and try to get a head start so they could corner him somewhere, and Puck kicked down the door and went chasing after the asshole down the fire escape.
Calling for backup probably would have been a good step to throw in there somewhere, but he wasn't really thinking of that when he could literally smell this deadbeat's bad cologne still in the air.
Puck doesn't even know what happens, really. He's running and he's close to the guy, and fuck he wishes people would get the hell out of the way when shit like this goes down. He wears his badge around his neck and he's got on an NYPD flap jacket. There's no reason for people to be confused about what's going on. Cop. Bad guy. Simple fucking math, idiots. Move.
He's just coming up to the alley and about to turn enter it to follow the suspect when something slams into Puck and knocks him on his ass. He's winded and disoriented as shit, but after a few seconds he sees the fucking garbage truck that backed into him and, thank god, was going slowly enough that it didn't kill him or actually run him over.
"Noah!" he hears someone yelling, and then Rachel's holstering her gun and kneeling down beside him. He leans up on his elbows. His tailbone hurts like a motherfucker and he definitely should have that looked at. "Are you okay?"
He wants to tell her she's a fucking maniac - he literally just got hit by a truck - but that's not the pressing issue, here.
"'D'he get away?"
Rachels brows come together. "No, you idiot! I shot him in the leg!" Puck laughs - which hurts - because it's sort of hilarious that she's offended that he might even imply that she didn't do her job, or whatever. "The ambulance is on its way. God, you could've been killed."
Puck shrugs, leans up a little further. "All the shit we do, one of us was bound to get hit by something sooner or later."
Yeah, he's putting up a good front here, but he feels like he might puke and wonders if he hit his head when he went down.
"Stay still," Rachel barks, and then gets onto her knees next to him, sets her hand between his shoulder blades. "Just don't move."
They stay like that, her rubbing circles on his back as the crowd gathers around them, until the ambulance arrives and the EMTs help him up and sit him in the back of the bus to check him out. They give him an ice pack for his head and check out his tailbone, which they tell him is going to develop a nasty bruise and be sore as fuck for a week or so. And he scraped his elbow and the back of his arm all to shit, so they pick the rocks out of that, clean it out and slap a bandage over it. They slip him some painkillers, too, but it's nothing he couldn't pick up at CVS, so it's a bit of a letdown.
Rachel's talking with the other officers and Captain Elliot, who arrived a few minutes ago. The suspect's handcuffed in the back of an ambulance. Apparently Rachel's bullet got only enough of his leg to stop him so she could cuff him. Which some people might think was a bad shot, but Puck knows her, okay? She's got wicked accuracy and genuinely hates hurting people and only does it when she absolutely has to. Which is, you know, what they're supposed to do, really. Bottom line is this criminal won't need surgery or anything, 'cause the bullet just grazed his leg, and they can take him straight to the station once they've got him bandaged up.
"You wanna tell me why you thought it'd be a good idea to…Oh, hell," Captain Elliot says, waving her hand and then clapping him on the shoulder. "Nice job, Puckerman."
"Thanks, Cap."
"How's the head?" she asks, smirking. Not sure how this is funny. "Not sure what you thought'd happen when you picked a fight with a garbage truck."
"I didn't see it," he mumbles, because obviously. "Good thing we had Sharpshooter here." He juts his chin towards Rachel, who he knows heard him say that.
"She's the best shot we've got." Puck just glares. Or tries. His head's pounding. "Quit pouting, Puckerman. Facts are facts."
Captain Elliot walks off and Puck steps down out of the ambulance, because things are clearing up here, and he really just wants to get the hell out of here. He's probably gonna be up to his ass in paperwork back at the precinct.
"Come on," Rachel says, giving him a once over. She starts walking towards their car. "I'll take you home."
"Home? I just…"
"You just got hit by a truck and I'm sure you're still practically seeing stars. No offence, but you're not the most useful partner to me right now. Give it a day." He wants to be pissed, but he knows damn well she's right, and he was actually a little annoyed that Captain Elliot didn't tell him to take the rest of the day and rest up. But she must have told Rachel. "Get in."
Yeah, Rachel opening the car door for him is the slightest bit emasculating, but he's trying to get over it as quickly as he can. He's pretty sure no one around here is judging him for accepting a little help right now.
They're halfway to his place when he looks over at her and says, "I would've had him."
"I know."
She's not really fucking with him, but she is grinning.
"I would have."
"I know," she repeats. She glances at him quickly and then honks at a jaywalking pedestrian. "I was cutting him off at the other end of the alley. He had nowhere to go."
Puck grins, looks out the window. "I can't believe you shot him."
"I…" She stops talking and Puck turns to her when he realizes she's not going to keep going. That prompts her along. "I couldn't see you. I didn't know what had happened. I panicked."
Puck scoffs and rolls his eyes. "You didn't fucking panic. Your training kicked in."
She's shaking her head when she says, "I was scared. I…I've never had a partner get seriously hurt."
"This look serious to you? I got knocked over by a truck moving half a mile an hour. I'm fine."
He can tell he hasn't really convinced her, but she doesn't seem to want to argue about it with him. Or maybe she just doesn't want to tell him any more of what she's feeling.
"You probably won't be able to move tomorrow," she tells him, and he doesn't really believe that.
She parks the car on his street and gets out with him, follows him up to his apartment and doesn't seem too set on leaving any time soon. He falls asleep at like 8:00, sitting on his bed in some sweats. Rachel called Dr. Daddy and told him what happened, then ran out to get him some stronger painkillers. He didn't think they were strong enough to knock him on his ass like that.
When he wakes up, Rachel's sleeping on the couch with a blanket over her, and she only opens her eyes when he brings her a cup of coffee and tells her they have to leave for work in 20.
He can barely fucking walk, so he'll be on desk duty all day, for sure.
"You didn't have to stay, you know," he tells her, because it seems important for some reason, as they sit here next to each other on his couch and he tries not to focus on the fact that her messy hair is totally fucking hot.
She shrugs her shoulder. "You'd do the same for me."
She isn't even questioning it. She shouldn't. He would.
… … …
She drunk texts him some nonsense the night of her friend's bachelorette party, so he brings her a gluten free bagel with schmear, and the biggest coffee he can find. She's already at her desk, but her eyes are all red and she looks exactly like she was up all night drinking.
Not gonna lie, he was pretty tempted to ask her what she was wearing last night when one of her texts read that her friend lent her something she'd never normally wear. There's just enough of last night's makeup left on her face under whatever she put on today that he can tell she was probably made up and dressed to go out and dance.
"All right there, champ?" he asks, chuckling, when the phone rings and she actually groans out loud.
They're in the car driving to Long Island to check out a lead when she finally says something about her night.
"I had to reread my messages three times this morning to make sure I didn't say anything embarrassing." Puck laughs and looks over at her. "I should have known better than to let them pour tequila." He winces a little. She hates tequila. "You didn't have to respond, you know. Weren't you in bed?"
"Yeah." He shrugs, meets her eyes quickly before looking back at the road. "I wanted to talk to you anyway."
He shouldn't have said that, but then there's a pretty smile on her face and she's looking to her lap before mentioning something about stopping for lunch at this falafel place she knows out here.
… … ...
They're on a stakeout and it's his watch while Rachel relaxes. Which is fine, really, but it's been an hour and all she's doing is reading, which he thinks is a bit shitty since he always talks to her on her watch. They've been here for eight hours and the only thing keeping him from complaining about that is the fact that he's here with her. This apartment is cold as fuck even though he finally figured out how to switch the heat on 20 minutes ago. Rachel's under a blanket and has her coat and scarf on, and Puck's got his hoodie up over his head and he's sure he looks like an idiot.
He gets a little distracted watching her, to be honest, because she just got up and offered to make them coffee, which sounds pretty perfect. She's got the blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she switches the coffee maker on, but then she stretches her arms over her head and the blanket falls to the floor, and fuck, it's basically the stuff of fantasies.
Then he sees something out of the corner of his eye and turns to look back out the window again. It's just someone walking down the street, not related to this guy they're tracking, but Puck recognizes that he could've missed something just 'cause he's distracted by his hot partner, so he keeps his eyes on the task at hand.
Rachel comes over, slides her hand across his back from shoulder to shoulder, and sets the cup of coffee in front of him, resting it on the windowsill. She's touched him before, yeah, but it's never like this. This isn't just friendly or teasing. She seems to realize it pretty quickly because she pulls her hand away and crosses her arms.
"Your hands are freezing," he tells her, looking through the binoculars again. "Still cold?"
"I don't understand why all stakeouts have to be in these miserable buildings. When was the last time you think anyone actually lived in this hellhole?" Ah. Yes. This is right about the time Rachel usually starts getting antsy. "I'd love a latté."
"Not exactly a Starbucks kind of neighbourhood." He glances over his shoulder in time to see her roll her eyes. He smirks to himself, 'cause he thinks it's entertaining to get her going.
"Not yet, anyway. Only a matter of time before gentrification…"
Yeah, this is right about the time Puck usually starts ignoring her. Not because he doesn't like her, obviously, and doesn't want to hear her talk, but, well, she's saying some statistic about crime rates in newly gentrified neighbourhoods is interesting, and that is so not the word he'd use for it.
He suggests she take a nap, and she suggests he's out of his mind. So. There you have it.
It's about another 20 minutes (and only 15 more to go before they switch off again, and he's absolutely lying down on that sofa) before Rachel closes her book again.
"Have you ever slept with a coworker?"
He looks at her like she's lost it, sets his hand on his thigh and turns his body towards hers more. She's just staring at him.
"What are you talking about?" he asks, because fuck, if she's trying to go there, he's absolutely gonna make sure she knows what the hell she's doing.
Rachel tilts her head. "I'm curious. I'm asking for a friend." He scoffs because that's bullshit, and shakes his head. "Well? Have you? I'm not naive. It's not going to surprise me to hear that you…"
"Yeah," he says, mostly to get her to stop talking. Fuck. He doesn't know what she's getting at and he doesn't like this line of questioning. He's not clamming up or anything just because it seems like maybe she's as into this as he is. He just doesn't know why the hell she'd ask him that. "It was a long time ago."
He looks back out the window and hears Rachel's book thunk on the table again when she puts it down. Arms crossed, she comes over to lean against the wall next to the window.
"What happened?" She's quieter now, less sure of herself. She wants to know if there was any discipline. If people found out. If the relationship lasted a while or was just a fling. He's not an idiot. That doesn't mean he isn't gonna act like one.
"What do you mean?" She just lets out this little sigh. Yeah, this could go on a while and he's not here for that. "Okay, fine. It was like a year after I joined the force. We hit it off. She was hot and she wanted me. I dunno."
"It was one time, or?"
Puck sighs and gives her a look. "Not one time, but not a serious thing. What are you, my mother? Jesus. Now do you want me to tell you about all the shit I've done outside of work?"
Rachel's brow furrows and he doesn't know what that means. "Wait, you've only slept with one coworker?"
"Yes, there's only been one! What the hell, Rach?"
"I'm just…collecting the data." Her posture straightens and this thing she's doing where she's pretending she doesn't know he knows she's totally talking about the two of them is equal parts cute and fucking annoying. He wishes she'd just come out and say it. But then again, he hasn't, either, so who the hell is he to complain? "Just wondering what might happen if two coworkers might end up…"
Puck sighs and shakes his head. "I'm sure you could Google it." She looks to the floor like she's hurt or embarrassed, and he sort of feels like a jackass. "You don't have to say you're asking for a friend. We both know this shit between us is getting to the point where we've either gotta talk about it or ignore it."
"Well…" Her voice sounds so small, and Puck doesn't get it. She brought this up in the first place. Maybe, for some reason, she thought he wouldn't put it all out there like that. "What do you want to do?"
He makes sure he meets her eyes, because he doesn't want there to be any mistaking what he means when he says, "I know what I want. What do you want?"
She doesn't get a chance to answer him, because he mutters a curse and looks through his binoculars, sees the guy they're after get out of a truck in front of the warehouse across the street. They're just supposed to be watching the asshole, getting information, but then Puck sees that the entire front of Guthrie's suit is covered in blood, and his two idiot henchmen are pulling a body out of the truck.
"Shit," Rachel mutters, and draws her gun. Puck's eyes go wide because he didn't expect it. "Call for backup."
She's out the door before he can tell her to slow her fucking roll and wait for him. He radios it in as he's chasing her out the door.
They're lucky in that there're three squad cars nearby and they all respond quickly enough that Rachel doesn't get her ass shot or worse. She makes the arrest, which Puck doesn't even care about. He gets one of the other guys, and then they set out trying to get information about the body the guys're carrying around. The idiots are quick to ask for lawyers and Puck wants to knock the one guy's teeth out when he says something about Rachel that would be disgusting even if she wasn't his partner.
They've been after this guy for months, so there's a big celebration at the bar, but Puck only stays for one beer, then leaves without saying goodbye to anyone. He's not in the mood for this shit and he just wants to go home. He's tired as fuck and has the day off tomorrow, so he wants to get a head start on the epic sleep he's about to have. He'll practically be hibernating, if he has any say in the matter.
He's been home about 20 minutes and has a glass of bourbon in his hand when someone bangs on his door.
When he opens it, Rachel's standing there twisting the strap of her purse between her hands, and he's totally fucking confused, but then it all sort of floods back to him and he takes a deep breath and lets it out.
He's about to ask what she's doing here when she pushes him into the apartment, shuts the door, puts her hands on his face and kisses him. Shit. He's thought about this way more than he wants to let on, and in every scenario it was him kissing her first. Even if he did think about her just showing up here, it was always him making the moves. It's hot as fuck that she's just standing here holding onto him, licking against his lips and dropping her purse somewhere on the floor.
"Rachel," he manages when she starts pushing him back towards his bedroom. He barely has time to set his glass on the counter before she's grabbing onto his shirt and pulling and he has to set his hands on her hips to steady the both of them.
"I know what I want, too."
It's the hottest fucking thing she could have said to him even if she wasn't staring directly at his lips and pressing her hips against his.
A few minutes later, when she's lying back on his bed and he's moving his hand up her side, she says, "I want you," into his ear and he just about loses his goddamn mind.
… … …
They always make sure they arrive at work separately, which seems to be working to throw everyone off. That's what Rachel says. Puck just thinks none of them give a shit and probably don't even notice. Which is sort of the point, so whatever.
This morning, he brings Rachel a coffee and she brings him one. She's laughing about it as she offers her extra one to Santana, and Puck sets his on Finn's desk.
When Puck looks over, Santana's eyes are narrowed like she's thinking pretty hard about something. She glances from him to Rachel and back again, and Puck makes sure he doesn't react to it at all.
The smile that spreads on Santana's lips is slow and smug, and she just shakes her head and goes back to her paperwork.
Character: Puck/Rachel
Summary: AU: Puck and Rachel are detectives and partners. Or, Sheena watches too much Brooklyn Nine Nine.
Word Count: 6,552
Disclaimer: Don't own.
"I brought you a coffee." The cup lands on his desk just as he looks away from his computer screen, and Rachel's standing there looking like she works teaching fucking high school English instead of as a detective for the NYPD. As usual. Her hair's pulled back, too, which is weird since she's been wearing it down more lately. Not that he cares. He just notices. "I figured you might need an extra one this morning, because I heard you and Finn went out drinking after you left here last night."
Puck smirks, takes the coffee and leans back in his chair. "Jealous?"
Yeah, whatever. She made moony eyes at Finn for like six months after the guy transferred in from a precinct upstate. And Puck wasn't jealous, or anything. Mostly because he knows she'd never cross the line and fraternize, or whatever word she'd use. But he's fucking positive that if Finn worked for a different precinct in the city, she'd be throwing her sensible white panties at him after stepping out of her JC Penny pantsuit.
He doesn't care. He just likes to bust her chops. Just like he'd do with a male partner. And he's careful what he says because A: they're pretty serious about sexual harassment around here, and rightly so, and B: he just can't possibly sit through another one of her tangents about how her personal life is none of his business and yadda, yadda, yadda.
Rachel just tilts her head at him and kinks her brow, one hand coming to rest on her hip. He knew she'd do it, too, so it just makes him smile and lift the coffee cup a bit before taking a sip.
"Thanks for this."
"You're welcome," she says, taking her seat at the desk across from his. She's got a tidy stack of case files on her desk, and a picture of her dads, but other than that it's totally tidy and clear. His own desk has a bunch of shit, files everywhere, post-its stuck to everything so he doesn't forget stuff, and yesterday's coffee mug still sitting there mostly empty. "Were you out late?"
"Not very. I was in bed by 1:00. Hudson's a lightweight." Rachel laughs a little. "And if I got shitfaced every time some chick broke his heart, I'd never be sober again."
Trying way too hard not to smile, Rachel stares at her computer screen and tells him, "That's not very nice." Puck shrugs. He's right. Huddy's got shit luck, but also brings it upon himself by thinking he's fucking in love with every woman who walks past him. "I'm sure, at least, he can hold his liquor better than I can."
"Berry, my nana can old her liquor better than you can."
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. He knows what pisses her off and what doesn't. After being partners for 18 months, he's got a good read on what lines to cross and which ones he should keep a safe distance from. Shit, when she first started, before he knew her full story, he made a crack about how she couldn't cut it on Broadway (a quick Google told him when she was 18 she was the lead in a show). The joke didn't land, and she ended up practically whispering at him, which he now knows she does when she's really and truly good and pissed off, and walking towards him, making him back up until he bumped into a desk behind him. He's not gonna lie, that shit was intimidating as fuck, and he doesn't even think she was trying. You wouldn't think a 105 pound woman in a pink button down shirt and an honest-to-god string of pearls could pull of being threatening, but let's just say Puck doesn't ever really want to be on her bad side. He hasn't even seen the full extent of it, but he'd bet she's fucking ruthless.
Captain Elliot steps out of her office and calls his and Rachel's last names, so he swings around in his chair to look at her.
"Armed robbery in Hell's Kitchen. Looks like the same signature as the last three in Midtown."
"On it," Puck says, standing and grabbing his coat. Rachel gets up, too, and she's already at the elevator, pressing the button, when he mutters, "Fuck," and runs back to his desk to grab his coffee.
Rachel looks at him knowingly once they're in the elevator, runs her knuckles over the five o'clock shadow on his jaw and asks, grinning, "How many beers did you say you had last night?"
He's too distracted by how nice that felt to come up with something snarky to say.
… … …
"Nice solve, Berry," Captain Elliot says, closing the file on her desk. Rachel's standing there with her hands clasped in front of her, practically beaming at the recognition, and Puck's looking between them waiting for one of them to acknowledge that Rachel didn't catch this murderer completely on her own. "How'd you know he'd give the victims' jewelry to his mother?"
"It reminded me of this case I studied." Puck rolls his eyes. Here we go. The single most annoying thing Rachel does is remind people every single chance she gets that she was pre-law before joining the Academy. "Except the suspect gave the things he stole from his victims to his girlfriend, but anyway, this reminded me of that."
"Yeah, I think I saw that episode of Criminal Minds, too," Puck says, because fuck it, just 'cause her book smarts got them there faster doesn't mean he wouldn't have made the connection, too.
And his comment gets a laugh from the Captain, so it was worth the pissy look on Rachel's face and the way she crosses her arms. Honestly, she'd look a hell of a lot more badass if there weren't little birds printed on her top.
He's sitting at his desk already when Rachel walks by him, saying, "Are you that insecure that you can't just let me have the win once in a while?"
"Detecting's a team game, Berry. And I'm not insecure."
"Funny how you say it's a team game when I'm doing the solving, but when you break the case, it's all gloating and implying you don't need a partner."
He narrows his eyes. "I've never said that." It's true. He hasn't. "If I didn't have a partner, who'd clear rooms for me before I go in and arrest the bad guys?"
Yeah, he's totally joking, because he doesn't like it when she's mad at him. Whatever.
Rachel just shakes her head and doesn't look at him. He's gonna have to apologize. Which sucks and he hates apologizing.
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm glad you broke the case. My ego just wants me to be the one who makes all the big discoveries." Rachel rolls her eyes. He knows she gets it. "I'll be less of a dick next time. Promise."
She says, "We'll see," and reaches for a pen to start on some paperwork he knows she was ignoring in favour of working this case.
Honestly, she looks kind of cute, back straight and posture perfect, filling out the appropriate forms and typing shit so she can finish up her open files and get them off her desk. He's doing the same thing, just doesn't look as good as she does doing it. Well fuck, that might not even be true; look at him. And maybe some people wouldn't look at Rachel - or listen to her - and find her attractive, but he can't say he doesn't. He's got this theory about being partners with women: You either develop a brother-sister relationship, or you wanna sleep together. Who the hell knows if that's accurate at all? All he knows is it's happened to him a couple times. And shit, he and Santana are like fucking siblings at this point. Yeah, she's gorgeous, but she's also terrifying and easily the best cop he's ever worked with. Not saying Rachel's not great, it's just different. Puck literally watched Santana pull out her gun and hold it to a suspect's head in an alley in order to get him to confess. She's fucking hardcore. It took about three weeks for him to see her as a coworker, not someone he wanted to take to bed.
It's been close to two years with Rachel, and looking at her like this just…Fuck, he has these moments of wanting her that usually pass quickly and happen at pretty predictable moments.
Watching her do fucking paperwork is a new one.
(Watching her put a guy in a choke hold to get him to drop his weapon? Shit, anyone would've found that hot.)
"Let's go for a beer," he says after checking the time and seeing that their shift ends in about two minutes.
Rachel narrows her eyes and looks at him. "Can I pick the bar?"
Puck scoffs. "No." She laughs out loud, but tilts her head at him like he's being unreasonable. "Last time you picked, it was that god awful piano bar. I wanted to blow my brains out."
Slight exaggeration. She scoffs at him and shakes her head.
"You, predictably, always go to the same place."
"It's a cop bar! It's right around the corner! Of course I always go to the same place."
Rachel stands and reaches for her blazer, then pulls her handbag out of her desk drawer and hitches it over her shoulder. "Fine. You're buying."
Puck grins, says, "Deal," and watches her walk towards the elevator as he pulls his coat on over his shoulders.
How her ass looks that good in that dumb outfit is beyond him.
… … …
He has a shit awful day. Rachel was pulled in on this attempted murder case because she's got experience in handwriting analysis and whoever tried to kill this shady investment banker left a note. Something like that. Puck wasn't really listening. He ended up working with Santana on a stupid arson case that could've been handled by the fire department if their new investigator wasn't, from what Puck can tell, totally green and 90 percent useless. And if you think he didn't want to be there, you should've seen Santana's attitude on the whole thing. She was downright miserable to just about everyone they encountered. And, in her words, she didn't give a flying rat turd about the greasy auto shop someone threw a match at. So if anyone had a worse day than him, it was her. They didn't get anywhere on the case, even after spending the whole day sifting through charred rubble and wearing fucking masks so they could hopefully avoid breathing in something that's gonna end up giving them cancer or a sixth toe or some shit.
Puck only came back to the precinct because he accidentally left his wallet at his desk - which Santana bitched at him for because she had to spring for lunch. He grabs a $10 from his wallet and drops it on her desk, where she's working on something he's got little to no interest in.
"Where's Berry?" he asks nobody in particular, and Evans, the rookie who Puck isn't sure doesn't piss his pants every day, opens his mouth but closes it before he says anything. The guy looks terrified all the time and no one around here has much use for that, to be honest. "Spit it out, new guy."
"She and Detective Hudson solved the case. I think they…"
"What?" Puck snaps, and Santana laughs when Evans visibly flinches.
"Went out."
Puck sighs. Not because he thinks it's fucking absurd that this guy can't even form a sentence without looking like he's about to cry and doesn't honestly know what the kid'll do if he's ever in a situation where he has to draw his gun or something. But because - and he didn't even realize it until this very moment - he's just a little bit worried that Rachel's stupid crush on Finn might still be kicking around somewhere.
Look, she's dated people since they became partners. And lord knows he has, too. And Puck hasn't been jealous of the morons she dates, because he can see within about 20 seconds whether or not it's going to last, and, well, Rachel's got shit awful taste. Seriously, there was the guy Puck could see was gay from 10 miles away even if the guy didn't realize it himself. And there was Steve, the surgeon whose ego rivalled Puck's, and that's saying something. And Robert, who was so obsessed with The Hunger Games that he wore that bird pin thing on the lapel of his suit jacket. And Gavin, the music writer, who was pretty awesome, actually, until he got sick of Rachel's crazy work schedule and told her he didn't think it was going to work out. Her most recent was Colin, who's Santana's old roommate's cousin, but he lives in Syracuse, so that was a short-lived fling.
Honestly, Finn's the only guy who's been around long enough for Puck to worry about, and he can't get a read on whether or not Rachel's still into the guy.
He shouldn't be worried about it at all, and he doesn't want to think about it, lest he actually fucking admit that the reason he judges all her boyfriends so hard is because he wants her to be with him.
He doesn't even know when that shit might have started, to be honest with you. But it doesn't really matter and he's not the guy who mopes around and dwells on it. He's the guy who goes to do something about it.
When he walks into the bar - and he wonders if she complained about Finn bringing her here like she complained when Puck did - he sees them sitting there at a high top table. It's loud in here. Friday night in a cop bar. Finn's leaning into her a bit, his hand resting on the back of her chair. But Rachel's just sitting there, hands folded in her lap and a nearly-full beer in front of her.
Puck knows body language. He knows hers, specifically.
He doesn't feel like an asshole when, after ordering a drink, walks over with his beer in his hand and pulls up a chair.
"What's up?" he asks, and Finn gives him this sort of pathetic look that Puck couldn't possibly care less about. Particularly because Rachel gives him this killer smile and turns towards him a bit. "Hey."
"Hi," she says, then sips her beer. He watches her. She's trying…She's doing something. He can't figure out if she's trying to keep her cool for him, or if she's trying to like, subliminally tell him she's not into Finn. Maybe both simultaneously. "Good day?"
"No," Puck scoffs. "Fucking terrible. Dealing with Inspector Idiot and his merry band of useless pricks." Rachel laughs out loud and covers her mouth to keep from spitting or something, and Finn barely stops himself from shooting beer across the room. "You? You caught the guy, right?"
"Accused is a woman," Rachel corrects, and Puck just nods, 'cause really, at this point there's just nothing surprising about the shitty crimes people pull and who commits them. "Disgruntled mistress."
"Classic," Puck mutters, and Finn clears his throat like Puck's interrupting or something. Rachel gives Puck this look like she doesn't want him to leave. Honestly, he sort of wants to go home to get some sleep as soon as he's done his drink. But if Rachel…
Well, fuck. Whatever she wants from him, he's gonna give her. If she wants him to stay here as a buffer 'cause she's not into Finn, he'll do it. If she wants to come home with him and go a couple rounds, he's good for that, too.
Surprises the hell out of Puck when it's Finn who drains his drink and says, "I should get going."
Weird. Like, Rachel's not exactly subtle, but apparently Finn's more clever than Puck gives him credit for.
He winks at Puck, though, which is confusing as fuck.
They say their goodbyes and Rachel lets out an audible sigh and visibly relaxes once Finn's out the door.
"The hell was that all about?"
"I think he thought…I have no idea. I mean, I know I was interested in him when he first arrived, but I just…" Puck just raises his brows and tries not to smile. She's sort of cute when she gets all flustered. "We were just sitting here and I realized he might have thought this meant something it didn't."
"Why would you think he thought that?" Puck asks, and Rachel gives him a shitty look. Not sure where he went wrong there. He was really just asking out of curiosity.
"Right, because it's so ludicrous that a man might be…"
"No," Puck says, and makes the mistake of sort of chuckling. "I'm asking if something happened that might've made him think you wanted to bang."
"Noah," Rachel breathes out. Well. She rarely says his first name at all, and any time she has, it hasn't sounded like that. "I'm not interested in Finn." Step in the right direction. "The only thing I can think is that today I said he's a good detective, and then I'm the one who suggested we get drinks, but that's…You and I always go out for drinks."
Puck bows his head a little and smiles. Yeah, they always go out for drinks, because he wants to hang out with her, even after spending hours on end in a squad car with her.
This is like, the most serious relationship he's ever been in, and it's not even romantic yet.
He walks her home, because she lives super close to the precinct in this apartment building neither him nor any of their coworkers could ever afford. Yeah, Puck lives further downtown and it'll be a bitch getting home at this time of night, but it's not a big deal when he gets on the train and takes a seat, tips his head back a bit.
The way Rachel had said, "Goodnight, Puckerman," as her doorman held the door open for her made Puck feel a little weird. Good weird. He'd just winked at her, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked away. Thing is, it didn't even bother him that he didn't get the invite inside. He figures he's got time.
… … …
He's running after this guy who's running a drug ring that's been selling meth laced with carpet cleaner or some shit. They've been selling the shit like crazy, all in the same 15 block radius. Which means it was easier to catch them because apparently they're not bright enough not to leave clues and patterns. Morons.
But he and Rachel went to this address they were led to and Puck heard the guy going out the window as soon as they'd knocked on the door and said "NYPD". He told Rachel to head back downstairs and try to get a head start so they could corner him somewhere, and Puck kicked down the door and went chasing after the asshole down the fire escape.
Calling for backup probably would have been a good step to throw in there somewhere, but he wasn't really thinking of that when he could literally smell this deadbeat's bad cologne still in the air.
Puck doesn't even know what happens, really. He's running and he's close to the guy, and fuck he wishes people would get the hell out of the way when shit like this goes down. He wears his badge around his neck and he's got on an NYPD flap jacket. There's no reason for people to be confused about what's going on. Cop. Bad guy. Simple fucking math, idiots. Move.
He's just coming up to the alley and about to turn enter it to follow the suspect when something slams into Puck and knocks him on his ass. He's winded and disoriented as shit, but after a few seconds he sees the fucking garbage truck that backed into him and, thank god, was going slowly enough that it didn't kill him or actually run him over.
"Noah!" he hears someone yelling, and then Rachel's holstering her gun and kneeling down beside him. He leans up on his elbows. His tailbone hurts like a motherfucker and he definitely should have that looked at. "Are you okay?"
He wants to tell her she's a fucking maniac - he literally just got hit by a truck - but that's not the pressing issue, here.
"'D'he get away?"
Rachels brows come together. "No, you idiot! I shot him in the leg!" Puck laughs - which hurts - because it's sort of hilarious that she's offended that he might even imply that she didn't do her job, or whatever. "The ambulance is on its way. God, you could've been killed."
Puck shrugs, leans up a little further. "All the shit we do, one of us was bound to get hit by something sooner or later."
Yeah, he's putting up a good front here, but he feels like he might puke and wonders if he hit his head when he went down.
"Stay still," Rachel barks, and then gets onto her knees next to him, sets her hand between his shoulder blades. "Just don't move."
They stay like that, her rubbing circles on his back as the crowd gathers around them, until the ambulance arrives and the EMTs help him up and sit him in the back of the bus to check him out. They give him an ice pack for his head and check out his tailbone, which they tell him is going to develop a nasty bruise and be sore as fuck for a week or so. And he scraped his elbow and the back of his arm all to shit, so they pick the rocks out of that, clean it out and slap a bandage over it. They slip him some painkillers, too, but it's nothing he couldn't pick up at CVS, so it's a bit of a letdown.
Rachel's talking with the other officers and Captain Elliot, who arrived a few minutes ago. The suspect's handcuffed in the back of an ambulance. Apparently Rachel's bullet got only enough of his leg to stop him so she could cuff him. Which some people might think was a bad shot, but Puck knows her, okay? She's got wicked accuracy and genuinely hates hurting people and only does it when she absolutely has to. Which is, you know, what they're supposed to do, really. Bottom line is this criminal won't need surgery or anything, 'cause the bullet just grazed his leg, and they can take him straight to the station once they've got him bandaged up.
"You wanna tell me why you thought it'd be a good idea to…Oh, hell," Captain Elliot says, waving her hand and then clapping him on the shoulder. "Nice job, Puckerman."
"Thanks, Cap."
"How's the head?" she asks, smirking. Not sure how this is funny. "Not sure what you thought'd happen when you picked a fight with a garbage truck."
"I didn't see it," he mumbles, because obviously. "Good thing we had Sharpshooter here." He juts his chin towards Rachel, who he knows heard him say that.
"She's the best shot we've got." Puck just glares. Or tries. His head's pounding. "Quit pouting, Puckerman. Facts are facts."
Captain Elliot walks off and Puck steps down out of the ambulance, because things are clearing up here, and he really just wants to get the hell out of here. He's probably gonna be up to his ass in paperwork back at the precinct.
"Come on," Rachel says, giving him a once over. She starts walking towards their car. "I'll take you home."
"Home? I just…"
"You just got hit by a truck and I'm sure you're still practically seeing stars. No offence, but you're not the most useful partner to me right now. Give it a day." He wants to be pissed, but he knows damn well she's right, and he was actually a little annoyed that Captain Elliot didn't tell him to take the rest of the day and rest up. But she must have told Rachel. "Get in."
Yeah, Rachel opening the car door for him is the slightest bit emasculating, but he's trying to get over it as quickly as he can. He's pretty sure no one around here is judging him for accepting a little help right now.
They're halfway to his place when he looks over at her and says, "I would've had him."
"I know."
She's not really fucking with him, but she is grinning.
"I would have."
"I know," she repeats. She glances at him quickly and then honks at a jaywalking pedestrian. "I was cutting him off at the other end of the alley. He had nowhere to go."
Puck grins, looks out the window. "I can't believe you shot him."
"I…" She stops talking and Puck turns to her when he realizes she's not going to keep going. That prompts her along. "I couldn't see you. I didn't know what had happened. I panicked."
Puck scoffs and rolls his eyes. "You didn't fucking panic. Your training kicked in."
She's shaking her head when she says, "I was scared. I…I've never had a partner get seriously hurt."
"This look serious to you? I got knocked over by a truck moving half a mile an hour. I'm fine."
He can tell he hasn't really convinced her, but she doesn't seem to want to argue about it with him. Or maybe she just doesn't want to tell him any more of what she's feeling.
"You probably won't be able to move tomorrow," she tells him, and he doesn't really believe that.
She parks the car on his street and gets out with him, follows him up to his apartment and doesn't seem too set on leaving any time soon. He falls asleep at like 8:00, sitting on his bed in some sweats. Rachel called Dr. Daddy and told him what happened, then ran out to get him some stronger painkillers. He didn't think they were strong enough to knock him on his ass like that.
When he wakes up, Rachel's sleeping on the couch with a blanket over her, and she only opens her eyes when he brings her a cup of coffee and tells her they have to leave for work in 20.
He can barely fucking walk, so he'll be on desk duty all day, for sure.
"You didn't have to stay, you know," he tells her, because it seems important for some reason, as they sit here next to each other on his couch and he tries not to focus on the fact that her messy hair is totally fucking hot.
She shrugs her shoulder. "You'd do the same for me."
She isn't even questioning it. She shouldn't. He would.
… … …
She drunk texts him some nonsense the night of her friend's bachelorette party, so he brings her a gluten free bagel with schmear, and the biggest coffee he can find. She's already at her desk, but her eyes are all red and she looks exactly like she was up all night drinking.
Not gonna lie, he was pretty tempted to ask her what she was wearing last night when one of her texts read that her friend lent her something she'd never normally wear. There's just enough of last night's makeup left on her face under whatever she put on today that he can tell she was probably made up and dressed to go out and dance.
"All right there, champ?" he asks, chuckling, when the phone rings and she actually groans out loud.
They're in the car driving to Long Island to check out a lead when she finally says something about her night.
"I had to reread my messages three times this morning to make sure I didn't say anything embarrassing." Puck laughs and looks over at her. "I should have known better than to let them pour tequila." He winces a little. She hates tequila. "You didn't have to respond, you know. Weren't you in bed?"
"Yeah." He shrugs, meets her eyes quickly before looking back at the road. "I wanted to talk to you anyway."
He shouldn't have said that, but then there's a pretty smile on her face and she's looking to her lap before mentioning something about stopping for lunch at this falafel place she knows out here.
… … ...
They're on a stakeout and it's his watch while Rachel relaxes. Which is fine, really, but it's been an hour and all she's doing is reading, which he thinks is a bit shitty since he always talks to her on her watch. They've been here for eight hours and the only thing keeping him from complaining about that is the fact that he's here with her. This apartment is cold as fuck even though he finally figured out how to switch the heat on 20 minutes ago. Rachel's under a blanket and has her coat and scarf on, and Puck's got his hoodie up over his head and he's sure he looks like an idiot.
He gets a little distracted watching her, to be honest, because she just got up and offered to make them coffee, which sounds pretty perfect. She's got the blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she switches the coffee maker on, but then she stretches her arms over her head and the blanket falls to the floor, and fuck, it's basically the stuff of fantasies.
Then he sees something out of the corner of his eye and turns to look back out the window again. It's just someone walking down the street, not related to this guy they're tracking, but Puck recognizes that he could've missed something just 'cause he's distracted by his hot partner, so he keeps his eyes on the task at hand.
Rachel comes over, slides her hand across his back from shoulder to shoulder, and sets the cup of coffee in front of him, resting it on the windowsill. She's touched him before, yeah, but it's never like this. This isn't just friendly or teasing. She seems to realize it pretty quickly because she pulls her hand away and crosses her arms.
"Your hands are freezing," he tells her, looking through the binoculars again. "Still cold?"
"I don't understand why all stakeouts have to be in these miserable buildings. When was the last time you think anyone actually lived in this hellhole?" Ah. Yes. This is right about the time Rachel usually starts getting antsy. "I'd love a latté."
"Not exactly a Starbucks kind of neighbourhood." He glances over his shoulder in time to see her roll her eyes. He smirks to himself, 'cause he thinks it's entertaining to get her going.
"Not yet, anyway. Only a matter of time before gentrification…"
Yeah, this is right about the time Puck usually starts ignoring her. Not because he doesn't like her, obviously, and doesn't want to hear her talk, but, well, she's saying some statistic about crime rates in newly gentrified neighbourhoods is interesting, and that is so not the word he'd use for it.
He suggests she take a nap, and she suggests he's out of his mind. So. There you have it.
It's about another 20 minutes (and only 15 more to go before they switch off again, and he's absolutely lying down on that sofa) before Rachel closes her book again.
"Have you ever slept with a coworker?"
He looks at her like she's lost it, sets his hand on his thigh and turns his body towards hers more. She's just staring at him.
"What are you talking about?" he asks, because fuck, if she's trying to go there, he's absolutely gonna make sure she knows what the hell she's doing.
Rachel tilts her head. "I'm curious. I'm asking for a friend." He scoffs because that's bullshit, and shakes his head. "Well? Have you? I'm not naive. It's not going to surprise me to hear that you…"
"Yeah," he says, mostly to get her to stop talking. Fuck. He doesn't know what she's getting at and he doesn't like this line of questioning. He's not clamming up or anything just because it seems like maybe she's as into this as he is. He just doesn't know why the hell she'd ask him that. "It was a long time ago."
He looks back out the window and hears Rachel's book thunk on the table again when she puts it down. Arms crossed, she comes over to lean against the wall next to the window.
"What happened?" She's quieter now, less sure of herself. She wants to know if there was any discipline. If people found out. If the relationship lasted a while or was just a fling. He's not an idiot. That doesn't mean he isn't gonna act like one.
"What do you mean?" She just lets out this little sigh. Yeah, this could go on a while and he's not here for that. "Okay, fine. It was like a year after I joined the force. We hit it off. She was hot and she wanted me. I dunno."
"It was one time, or?"
Puck sighs and gives her a look. "Not one time, but not a serious thing. What are you, my mother? Jesus. Now do you want me to tell you about all the shit I've done outside of work?"
Rachel's brow furrows and he doesn't know what that means. "Wait, you've only slept with one coworker?"
"Yes, there's only been one! What the hell, Rach?"
"I'm just…collecting the data." Her posture straightens and this thing she's doing where she's pretending she doesn't know he knows she's totally talking about the two of them is equal parts cute and fucking annoying. He wishes she'd just come out and say it. But then again, he hasn't, either, so who the hell is he to complain? "Just wondering what might happen if two coworkers might end up…"
Puck sighs and shakes his head. "I'm sure you could Google it." She looks to the floor like she's hurt or embarrassed, and he sort of feels like a jackass. "You don't have to say you're asking for a friend. We both know this shit between us is getting to the point where we've either gotta talk about it or ignore it."
"Well…" Her voice sounds so small, and Puck doesn't get it. She brought this up in the first place. Maybe, for some reason, she thought he wouldn't put it all out there like that. "What do you want to do?"
He makes sure he meets her eyes, because he doesn't want there to be any mistaking what he means when he says, "I know what I want. What do you want?"
She doesn't get a chance to answer him, because he mutters a curse and looks through his binoculars, sees the guy they're after get out of a truck in front of the warehouse across the street. They're just supposed to be watching the asshole, getting information, but then Puck sees that the entire front of Guthrie's suit is covered in blood, and his two idiot henchmen are pulling a body out of the truck.
"Shit," Rachel mutters, and draws her gun. Puck's eyes go wide because he didn't expect it. "Call for backup."
She's out the door before he can tell her to slow her fucking roll and wait for him. He radios it in as he's chasing her out the door.
They're lucky in that there're three squad cars nearby and they all respond quickly enough that Rachel doesn't get her ass shot or worse. She makes the arrest, which Puck doesn't even care about. He gets one of the other guys, and then they set out trying to get information about the body the guys're carrying around. The idiots are quick to ask for lawyers and Puck wants to knock the one guy's teeth out when he says something about Rachel that would be disgusting even if she wasn't his partner.
They've been after this guy for months, so there's a big celebration at the bar, but Puck only stays for one beer, then leaves without saying goodbye to anyone. He's not in the mood for this shit and he just wants to go home. He's tired as fuck and has the day off tomorrow, so he wants to get a head start on the epic sleep he's about to have. He'll practically be hibernating, if he has any say in the matter.
He's been home about 20 minutes and has a glass of bourbon in his hand when someone bangs on his door.
When he opens it, Rachel's standing there twisting the strap of her purse between her hands, and he's totally fucking confused, but then it all sort of floods back to him and he takes a deep breath and lets it out.
He's about to ask what she's doing here when she pushes him into the apartment, shuts the door, puts her hands on his face and kisses him. Shit. He's thought about this way more than he wants to let on, and in every scenario it was him kissing her first. Even if he did think about her just showing up here, it was always him making the moves. It's hot as fuck that she's just standing here holding onto him, licking against his lips and dropping her purse somewhere on the floor.
"Rachel," he manages when she starts pushing him back towards his bedroom. He barely has time to set his glass on the counter before she's grabbing onto his shirt and pulling and he has to set his hands on her hips to steady the both of them.
"I know what I want, too."
It's the hottest fucking thing she could have said to him even if she wasn't staring directly at his lips and pressing her hips against his.
A few minutes later, when she's lying back on his bed and he's moving his hand up her side, she says, "I want you," into his ear and he just about loses his goddamn mind.
… … …
They always make sure they arrive at work separately, which seems to be working to throw everyone off. That's what Rachel says. Puck just thinks none of them give a shit and probably don't even notice. Which is sort of the point, so whatever.
This morning, he brings Rachel a coffee and she brings him one. She's laughing about it as she offers her extra one to Santana, and Puck sets his on Finn's desk.
When Puck looks over, Santana's eyes are narrowed like she's thinking pretty hard about something. She glances from him to Rachel and back again, and Puck makes sure he doesn't react to it at all.
The smile that spreads on Santana's lips is slow and smug, and she just shakes her head and goes back to her paperwork.