[Glee Fic] Gold Stars & Whore Lips (1/1)
A/N: So, sometimes I get P/R plot bunnies that run simultaneous to canon. Just small moments here and there. But yeah, this one-shot is just supposed to be a supplement to what's going on in the show to make up for the lack of P/R. I hope you enjoy!
.-.-.
She’s laughing in his face.
And it’s not just the shy giggle she used to do when they were making out; or the wimpy silent laughter she sometimes hides behind her hand. No, it’s a full bodied chuckle that makes her hair sway from side to side.
“Yeah, yeah Berry. Laugh it up will you.” Puck shoots her a mean glare, but it only causes her to laugh harder.
“I’m...sorry...Noah...” She struggles to say as she gasps for air.
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. This shit is hard to get rid of.” He’s of course referring to the leftover stains of his ridiculous face paint that is now screwing up his awesome face. “I fucking almost scrubbed off my face trying to get rid of this shit, but it’s, like, seeped into my skin or something.” Puck knows his face is mostly a faint tinge of white except for a dark smudge surrounding his right eye, while his lips (his whore lips) are still a bright pinkish red. And despite how stupid he knows his entire face looks, it’s the lips he hates the most.
Rachel’s panting, trying to catch her breath, and he’d almost think it was hot if it weren’t for the fact that she’s laughing at him.
He releases a deep, annoyed huff and shakes his head before starting to walk away.
“Wait. Noah, wait.” She gasps amusedly, placing her hand on his elbow before he can take more than a few steps. “I’m sorry. Really I am.” He can see her lips still pressed together as she tries (and fails) to contain her laughter. He wants to get pissed, or whatever, but then she says, “Here, allow me to help you clean it off properly.”
“Don’t bother.” He grunts trying to shrug her hand away, but Rachel’s never one to take no for an answer.
“Don’t be silly, Noah.”
And the next thing Puck knows, he’s being dragged into the girls locker room.
(Totally one of his fantasies, but so not in the right way.)
.-.-.
He tries not to think about the fact that she’s perched on the edge of his lap, wiping a wet cloth over his face. (Whatever, she calls it a moist toilette, but there’s no fucking way he’s gonna call it that. It’s basically a wet tissue for fuck’s sake.)
He also tries not to think how familiar this all feels.
“I really enjoyed your ‘Kiss’ number today, Noah.” She says as she tilts his head to the side and runs the cloth along his face. “‘Shout it out loud’ is one of my Dad’s favourite songs from the seventies. But his absolute favourite was ‘Beth’. It’s was mine too.” Puck doesn’t notice his eyes flutter shut as he lets Rachel’s voice wash over him. Hey, the girl likes to talk. A lot. He’s gotten used to pretending not to listen.
“You see, when I was young, and he’d sometimes need to go on business trips for weeks at a time. I’d always get this irrational fear that he’d never come back. So every night he was away, he’d call me, and through the phone he’d sing it to me, and it always made me feel better. It always made everything okay. Even after a day of the other kids teasing me about my superior talent, and being the only kid in school without a...” Her voice trails off, and Puck opens his eyes to see her hesitating. She’s staring at a point above his head, and it takes him a minute to realise that she’s actually looking at her reflection. She’s still wearing her Gaga costume. Not the lame (but kinda cute...whatever) froggy one, but the hot one. The one that...oh.
They sit in silence for a few moments, the stillness of her form making him feel restless.
“So... err... Pretty intense, huh?”
It’s awkward. He really has no fucking clue what to say. Mainly because he never likes to talk about his feelings and shit. Let alone someone else’s.
She nods her head, her gaze lowering to stare at her hands. She doesn’t ask him what he means. Doesn’t need to. “It’s confusing, yes. I am glad I found her.” She tries to sound like her usual confident self; like she’s trying to convince herself it’s true. (It doesn’t seem to be working.) “I mean, she’s my mom, and she helped me make this wonderful dress, but it still feels...strange.”
Puck nods his understanding, and waits for her to continue. She doesn’t. “Well, at least she’s here, right?” Her head lifts to meet his gaze. “I mean, it’s something right?” At least she’s not off trying to be a rock star. He doesn’t say it out loud, but shit, he swears Rachel can read his mind or something.
She sends him a small, grateful smile. “You’re right. She is here. So I’m going to make the most of it.” Her hand moves to remove the last of the paint from his face, and she speaks again just as she sweeps the cloth lightly over his bottom lip one last time. “You are too, you know.” She doesn’t quite meet his eyes this time, choosing to focus on his chin instead. “For Quinn and the baby, I mean.”
You’re not your father.
It’s like this tele-whatever shit is contagious or something. Either that or he’s beginning to understand her. Now that’s a scary thought. (Except that it’s, you know, not.)
She looks up at him from under those long lashes, and shit, it feels like he’s been here before. He could just lean forward and...
But Rachel shakes her head and stands up, trying to smooth the edge of her (super hot) dress down. “All done.” She smiles... and huh? What just happened?
“Yeah.” He turns his head to check the mirror, and sure enough, his face is back to his normal epic self. “Awesome, thanks Rachel.”
She smiles brightly at him as she begins to pack her things away. “You are most welcome, Noah.”
Silence settles between the two of them, and Noah starts to feel awkward just standing there watching her. Mostly because he’s trying to be respectful and shit, and not stare at her ass. Honestly, that dress is fucking with his mind. “Well, I gotta bail. Thanks again.”
“Oh, of course. Goodbye, Noah.”
“Yeah, later.” Puck stops just as he reaches the door, turning his body backwards as he swings it open. “Oh, and by the way Rachel.” He begins, waiting for her to meet his gaze before shooting her one of his usual smirks. “Looking hot.”
And then he disappears out into the hall.
.-.-.
For whatever fucked up reason, Puck just can’t fall asleep that night. He’s staring up at the ceiling, both hands tucked behind his head as Quinn’s sleeping form rests beside him, her ever growing stomach rising and falling in a gentle rhythm.
He thinks about... nothing. Well, nothing he can really pinpoint. But by the time morning rolls around, light seeping through his curtains, Puck’s decided something monumental about his life.
He is here.
And even though he might not get to be a dad to his kid, he’s gonna make damn sure that he’s here for every single moment he can.
.-.-.
It’s a pretty awesome name, if he does say so himself. And let’s face it, his kid is gonna be nothing less than awesome. He mostly looks at Quinn as he sings, well her stomach really. But once or twice (maybe more), his eye line briefly shifts upwards to the face hovering just above Quinn’s shoulder.
He should feel guilty, he knows this. But Rachel’s beaming smile kinda just trumps that idea.
.-.-.
“What the fuck is that?” Puck peeps into Rachel’s locker as she’s packing her things. Schue ended glee club early after they ‘learnt this week’s lesson’, but really, he just thinks it’s because Schue couldn’t stand looking at Finn in his weird shower curtain. They may all look like freaks, but Finn just took it to the extreme. It’s totally the shoulder pads.
Puck leans forward to grab, well he doesn’t know what it is. It’s some kind of glass cup. Except it’s kinda shaped funny, like a goblet or something from one of those old timer movies. Like really old, old. But this one has a giant gold star on it (and it’s kinda ugly - not that he’d ever tell Berry that.)
“Be careful with that!” Rachel exclaims, carefully prying it from Puck’s hands. “Shelby gave it to me.”
He arches an eyebrow at her, but Rachel’s too busy staring at the cup in her hand to notice. “Shelby, huh?” Puck says, and it seems to snap her back to attention.
“Yes, well,” Rachel clears her throat and hastily places the cup back in her locker, rearranging her books around it. “She and I both agreed that it would be mutually beneficial if we halted out burgeoning relationship at this present time. She feels, I mean, we feel that it is in both our best interests during this confusing and hectic time, that we both take a step back to reassess our current situation. Thereby preserving out newly developed rapport.”
Puck nods, watching Rachel carefully as she babbles. He understands about every fifth word, but overall he gets what she’s staying. “So you both want out, huh?” he asks, stressing the word ‘both’.
“Yes. It was a mutual...”
“Yeah, I’d believe you more if you could look me in the eye and say it.” He interrupts before she can repeat her (scary) long speech.
For the first time in the last five minutes, Rachel meets his gaze, and steadily says, “It’s what I want.” But Puck silently stares back at her, studying her every feature until she turns her head away. “Can you please not look at me like that?” She asks primly. “Your Theatricality make-up is rather off putting.”
He figures this conversation could go one of two ways. He could call her on her bullshit, which is what he really wants to do, or he could give her a break and change the subject, which is so not his style.
He doesn’t know which he’s gonna go with until he opens his mouth and the words come pouring out.
“Whatever, you know I look awesome.” He smirks at her, giving her the much needed reprieve. He gets it. She doesn’t want to talk about it. Otherwise shit would get real, and if she wants to live in her bubble for a little while longer, who is he to argue?
Rachel giggles her response. “Oh, yes. You look very manly. I especially love your bright red lipstick.”
Puck lets out a bark of laughter and puckers up. “What can I say? I’m a total badass.” He says, swinging an arm over her shoulder. “Now, help me get this shit off my face before it permanently seeps into my skin, or whatever.”
She lets out a loud laugh, and even though it doesn’t completely reach her eyes, at least it’s a start. And he thinks, as she collects her things and closes her locker door, that yeah, she may not be ready to talk right now, and sure, normally he wouldn’t give a shit about other people’s problems, but Rachel helped him with his. So, it’s the least he could do, right? It’s all part of being a man.
So, he squeezes her shoulder and sends her a small wink, and he thinks she kinda gets the message (damn, this chick is psychic) by the smile she shoots back at him while she nods her head. (Yeah, maybe he’s a little psychic too.)
He purses his whore lips one more time, which again causes her to laugh loudly, and Puck decides that Rachel Berry? She’s not so bad. Gold stars and all.
Even if he never got to touch her boobs. (At least, not yet.)
.-.-.
She’s laughing in his face.
And it’s not just the shy giggle she used to do when they were making out; or the wimpy silent laughter she sometimes hides behind her hand. No, it’s a full bodied chuckle that makes her hair sway from side to side.
“Yeah, yeah Berry. Laugh it up will you.” Puck shoots her a mean glare, but it only causes her to laugh harder.
“I’m...sorry...Noah...” She struggles to say as she gasps for air.
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. This shit is hard to get rid of.” He’s of course referring to the leftover stains of his ridiculous face paint that is now screwing up his awesome face. “I fucking almost scrubbed off my face trying to get rid of this shit, but it’s, like, seeped into my skin or something.” Puck knows his face is mostly a faint tinge of white except for a dark smudge surrounding his right eye, while his lips (his whore lips) are still a bright pinkish red. And despite how stupid he knows his entire face looks, it’s the lips he hates the most.
Rachel’s panting, trying to catch her breath, and he’d almost think it was hot if it weren’t for the fact that she’s laughing at him.
He releases a deep, annoyed huff and shakes his head before starting to walk away.
“Wait. Noah, wait.” She gasps amusedly, placing her hand on his elbow before he can take more than a few steps. “I’m sorry. Really I am.” He can see her lips still pressed together as she tries (and fails) to contain her laughter. He wants to get pissed, or whatever, but then she says, “Here, allow me to help you clean it off properly.”
“Don’t bother.” He grunts trying to shrug her hand away, but Rachel’s never one to take no for an answer.
“Don’t be silly, Noah.”
And the next thing Puck knows, he’s being dragged into the girls locker room.
(Totally one of his fantasies, but so not in the right way.)
.-.-.
He tries not to think about the fact that she’s perched on the edge of his lap, wiping a wet cloth over his face. (Whatever, she calls it a moist toilette, but there’s no fucking way he’s gonna call it that. It’s basically a wet tissue for fuck’s sake.)
He also tries not to think how familiar this all feels.
“I really enjoyed your ‘Kiss’ number today, Noah.” She says as she tilts his head to the side and runs the cloth along his face. “‘Shout it out loud’ is one of my Dad’s favourite songs from the seventies. But his absolute favourite was ‘Beth’. It’s was mine too.” Puck doesn’t notice his eyes flutter shut as he lets Rachel’s voice wash over him. Hey, the girl likes to talk. A lot. He’s gotten used to pretending not to listen.
“You see, when I was young, and he’d sometimes need to go on business trips for weeks at a time. I’d always get this irrational fear that he’d never come back. So every night he was away, he’d call me, and through the phone he’d sing it to me, and it always made me feel better. It always made everything okay. Even after a day of the other kids teasing me about my superior talent, and being the only kid in school without a...” Her voice trails off, and Puck opens his eyes to see her hesitating. She’s staring at a point above his head, and it takes him a minute to realise that she’s actually looking at her reflection. She’s still wearing her Gaga costume. Not the lame (but kinda cute...whatever) froggy one, but the hot one. The one that...oh.
They sit in silence for a few moments, the stillness of her form making him feel restless.
“So... err... Pretty intense, huh?”
It’s awkward. He really has no fucking clue what to say. Mainly because he never likes to talk about his feelings and shit. Let alone someone else’s.
She nods her head, her gaze lowering to stare at her hands. She doesn’t ask him what he means. Doesn’t need to. “It’s confusing, yes. I am glad I found her.” She tries to sound like her usual confident self; like she’s trying to convince herself it’s true. (It doesn’t seem to be working.) “I mean, she’s my mom, and she helped me make this wonderful dress, but it still feels...strange.”
Puck nods his understanding, and waits for her to continue. She doesn’t. “Well, at least she’s here, right?” Her head lifts to meet his gaze. “I mean, it’s something right?” At least she’s not off trying to be a rock star. He doesn’t say it out loud, but shit, he swears Rachel can read his mind or something.
She sends him a small, grateful smile. “You’re right. She is here. So I’m going to make the most of it.” Her hand moves to remove the last of the paint from his face, and she speaks again just as she sweeps the cloth lightly over his bottom lip one last time. “You are too, you know.” She doesn’t quite meet his eyes this time, choosing to focus on his chin instead. “For Quinn and the baby, I mean.”
You’re not your father.
It’s like this tele-whatever shit is contagious or something. Either that or he’s beginning to understand her. Now that’s a scary thought. (Except that it’s, you know, not.)
She looks up at him from under those long lashes, and shit, it feels like he’s been here before. He could just lean forward and...
But Rachel shakes her head and stands up, trying to smooth the edge of her (super hot) dress down. “All done.” She smiles... and huh? What just happened?
“Yeah.” He turns his head to check the mirror, and sure enough, his face is back to his normal epic self. “Awesome, thanks Rachel.”
She smiles brightly at him as she begins to pack her things away. “You are most welcome, Noah.”
Silence settles between the two of them, and Noah starts to feel awkward just standing there watching her. Mostly because he’s trying to be respectful and shit, and not stare at her ass. Honestly, that dress is fucking with his mind. “Well, I gotta bail. Thanks again.”
“Oh, of course. Goodbye, Noah.”
“Yeah, later.” Puck stops just as he reaches the door, turning his body backwards as he swings it open. “Oh, and by the way Rachel.” He begins, waiting for her to meet his gaze before shooting her one of his usual smirks. “Looking hot.”
And then he disappears out into the hall.
.-.-.
For whatever fucked up reason, Puck just can’t fall asleep that night. He’s staring up at the ceiling, both hands tucked behind his head as Quinn’s sleeping form rests beside him, her ever growing stomach rising and falling in a gentle rhythm.
He thinks about... nothing. Well, nothing he can really pinpoint. But by the time morning rolls around, light seeping through his curtains, Puck’s decided something monumental about his life.
He is here.
And even though he might not get to be a dad to his kid, he’s gonna make damn sure that he’s here for every single moment he can.
.-.-.
It’s a pretty awesome name, if he does say so himself. And let’s face it, his kid is gonna be nothing less than awesome. He mostly looks at Quinn as he sings, well her stomach really. But once or twice (maybe more), his eye line briefly shifts upwards to the face hovering just above Quinn’s shoulder.
He should feel guilty, he knows this. But Rachel’s beaming smile kinda just trumps that idea.
.-.-.
“What the fuck is that?” Puck peeps into Rachel’s locker as she’s packing her things. Schue ended glee club early after they ‘learnt this week’s lesson’, but really, he just thinks it’s because Schue couldn’t stand looking at Finn in his weird shower curtain. They may all look like freaks, but Finn just took it to the extreme. It’s totally the shoulder pads.
Puck leans forward to grab, well he doesn’t know what it is. It’s some kind of glass cup. Except it’s kinda shaped funny, like a goblet or something from one of those old timer movies. Like really old, old. But this one has a giant gold star on it (and it’s kinda ugly - not that he’d ever tell Berry that.)
“Be careful with that!” Rachel exclaims, carefully prying it from Puck’s hands. “Shelby gave it to me.”
He arches an eyebrow at her, but Rachel’s too busy staring at the cup in her hand to notice. “Shelby, huh?” Puck says, and it seems to snap her back to attention.
“Yes, well,” Rachel clears her throat and hastily places the cup back in her locker, rearranging her books around it. “She and I both agreed that it would be mutually beneficial if we halted out burgeoning relationship at this present time. She feels, I mean, we feel that it is in both our best interests during this confusing and hectic time, that we both take a step back to reassess our current situation. Thereby preserving out newly developed rapport.”
Puck nods, watching Rachel carefully as she babbles. He understands about every fifth word, but overall he gets what she’s staying. “So you both want out, huh?” he asks, stressing the word ‘both’.
“Yes. It was a mutual...”
“Yeah, I’d believe you more if you could look me in the eye and say it.” He interrupts before she can repeat her (scary) long speech.
For the first time in the last five minutes, Rachel meets his gaze, and steadily says, “It’s what I want.” But Puck silently stares back at her, studying her every feature until she turns her head away. “Can you please not look at me like that?” She asks primly. “Your Theatricality make-up is rather off putting.”
He figures this conversation could go one of two ways. He could call her on her bullshit, which is what he really wants to do, or he could give her a break and change the subject, which is so not his style.
He doesn’t know which he’s gonna go with until he opens his mouth and the words come pouring out.
“Whatever, you know I look awesome.” He smirks at her, giving her the much needed reprieve. He gets it. She doesn’t want to talk about it. Otherwise shit would get real, and if she wants to live in her bubble for a little while longer, who is he to argue?
Rachel giggles her response. “Oh, yes. You look very manly. I especially love your bright red lipstick.”
Puck lets out a bark of laughter and puckers up. “What can I say? I’m a total badass.” He says, swinging an arm over her shoulder. “Now, help me get this shit off my face before it permanently seeps into my skin, or whatever.”
She lets out a loud laugh, and even though it doesn’t completely reach her eyes, at least it’s a start. And he thinks, as she collects her things and closes her locker door, that yeah, she may not be ready to talk right now, and sure, normally he wouldn’t give a shit about other people’s problems, but Rachel helped him with his. So, it’s the least he could do, right? It’s all part of being a man.
So, he squeezes her shoulder and sends her a small wink, and he thinks she kinda gets the message (damn, this chick is psychic) by the smile she shoots back at him while she nods her head. (Yeah, maybe he’s a little psychic too.)
He purses his whore lips one more time, which again causes her to laugh loudly, and Puck decides that Rachel Berry? She’s not so bad. Gold stars and all.
Even if he never got to touch her boobs. (At least, not yet.)