Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Rating: M
Word Count: 6000
Summary: Future fic. After a messy break up in high school, Rachel Berry is not hotshot movie producer Noah Puckerman's favorite person. When the two join forces to work on a movie, they're shocked to learn that they have to form a fake relationship in order to increase the public's interest.
A/N: So this is my first ever multi-chaptered fic, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intimidated by the idea! But nevertheless, here's the first chapter, and welcome to the messy, sexy, and frustrating relationship that only Puck and Rachel can have. I really hope you guys like it! :)
… … …
Noah Puckerman drains the last of his bottle of beer and looks around his new kitchen, grinning hugely. It looks amazing, but It's not finished yet. Yeah, he's had the walls painted and cabinets fitted, and his newly-purchased refrigerator is massive, but there are still boxes piled up everywhere filled with plates and shit. The little beach house is a maze of even more boxes and stacked furniture, but it's cool. He's got all the time in the world to get it organized, and there's no pressure whatsoever. This place is his. All his, and he's pretty damn excited about it.
The best part about this new house? It's not the fact that it's surrounded by palm trees, or even the fact that he has his own pool, or that the house itself is on a hill overlooking the ocean. The barbeque area on the patio is pretty fucking sweet, but it's not that either. No, with this house he gets his own maid service. And after fucking six years of living in shitty apartments covered in rust, grime, and dust, the thought that he never again has to suffer arm cramps from trying to clean goddamn blood stains off of grungy tiles is fucking heaven.
A beach house in Los Angeles. Who the fuck would have thought that Noah Puckerman would have ended up here? He sure as hell didn't. But he's not complaining. LA is loud and busy yeah, but he's forty minutes away from the city and he fucking loves it. He deserves to love it. He's worked his fucking ass off to get here.
It started the summer he'd finished high school, eighteen-years-old, freshly-dumped, and watching his friends leave Lima one-by-one to go to colleges all over the country. Finn, his best friend, hadn't been accepted into any college but he'd enlisted in the army instead, something about wanting to follow in his father's footsteps. He'd been the last to leave Lima, and after driving Finn to the airport, Puck had sat on his front porch completely alone. He'd been stupid, and hadn't made any plans for after school. He was all about living for the moment, which had been really kind of dumb, now that he thinks about it.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" He'd asked his mom when she got home from work, and she'd sighed tiredly.
"We tried to tell you, Noah," She said as he followed her into the house. "We all did. Especially-"
"I know, I know," He interrupted her grumpily, slamming the door behind him a little harder than necessary. "So what, do I get a job or...?"
His mom had shrugged off her cardigan and turned to him then, stroking his cheek sympathetically. He'd let her. "Find your passion, Noah."
It had been the worst fucking advice in the world, because how the hell are you supposed to just magically find your passion? His passion, or whatever, had always been guitar, but he didn't want to go study music or try to get work based on that. It would take all of the fun out of playing for him, and that would totally suck. So he tried a bunch of stuff, getting jobs in the most random places (he made a kick-ass park ranger), but none of them ever lasted. He just didn't enjoy any of them.
It was as a last resort he grabbed a bunch of community college brochures and began flicking through them one weekend, trying to find a couple of classes that didn't make him want to, you know, light himself on fire. He became interested when he found a film course, focusing on all aspects of the art including writing, production, editing, and analysis. He was sick of working shitty jobs and terrible hours, so he signed up, thinking that watching films in all of his classes and being graded for it sounded like a pretty sweet deal.
The thing is, the classes sure as fuck weren't easy. Fucking stressful is a better word to describe them. The analysis class studied films the way his high school English classes used to study novels, and it was fucking excruciating at times. But to his surprise, he was actually good at it. The first essay he ever wrote for that class got him an A, and his mom was so ecstatic that she actually stuck the paper to the fridge like he was Hannah's age. He didn't really mind though. He was proud of himself too.
Shockingly, he was a natural at everything. He came up with some kick-ass short film ideas, flew through the instructive editing classes with flying colors, and produced films with his classmates like a fucking boss. He made this one movie in his second year at college about fear and paranoia, and it actually got screened at some short film festival.
By the time he'd graduated (top of his class), he had a bunch of contacts in the industry and a job lined up at a little production studio in LA. So he moved, and his mom had cried for a week beforehand. She'd never been more proud of him.
The job hadn't been anything major, but it got him experience, gave him some shit to put on his resumé, and he'd earned enough to rent this crappy little apartment down town. He'd hated that place, hated how dirty it was, hated his neighbors, but it was the best he was going to get on his salary.
Nearly two years after he'd started working for the company, he produced this little independent movie. It hadn't been his favorite project, but they'd somehow managed to get Dakota Fanning and Emily Browning to star in it and because of that, interest had increased on a huge fucking scale. When the movie was released, it shot straight into the box office top five, and suddenly offers were like, pouring in for him. He quit his job at the little studio and moved on to bigger and better things.
(He got his own IMDB page and it was one of the proudest moments of his life, he's not gonna lie.)
He was in that crappy apartment for another half a year, because even though the money in his bank account had slowly started piling up, the first thing he did with it was pay off his mom's debt, and give a bunch to Hannah for her college fund. That was always the first thing he said he'd do if he ever got rich, because they'd struggled with money so fucking much as he was growing up. It was an amazing feeling to know that he could help out with their financial issues, and his mom had been grateful and emotional when he'd showed up in Lima with a big-ass check. He told her to man up and stop crying, and she'd laughed and covered his face in kisses against his protests.
The next apartment he got was slightly better, though the hot water was sometimes temperamental, and it was in a really loud part of the city, surrounded by a bunch of night clubs. He spent seven months there, and in that time, he somehow managed to produce a massive blockbuster film. He'd been so fucking lucky. The studio had taken a chance on him, since he was still climbing up the ladder, and he'd really only got the job because of his charm and charisma, but it had been an incredible experience, and the movie turned out to be one of the most successful films of the year. Suddenly, magazines were requesting interviews with him, and he had meetings with famous directors and screenwriters, and he somehow had hundreds of thousands in his bank account. Tabloids were writing about him, because let's face it, he's hot as fuck, and he started dating a bunch of models and actresses. People became interested.
And now he's just signed up to produce his second big-budget film, and with the advance on his paycheck he's bought his own place, and hired a bunch of over-priced decorators to design it just the way he wants, simply because he can afford it now.
It's the best feeling, not having to worry about shit, and to celebrate, he goes to the fridge and pulls out another bottle of beer, removing the cap by slamming the head hard against the edge of the kitchen counter. He doesn't care about scratching the surface – they're being replaced tomorrow.
Whistling to himself, Puck makes his way into the living room and sits on the floor, grabbing the nearest box. It's full of little things – books, pictures, and the few trophies and awards he's won at various film festivals. He pulls them out and starts making neat little piles like his mom told him to do, and scoffs suddenly when he pulls out his old high school yearbook. He takes a long gulp of his beer and opens the book, absent-mindedly flicking to the page that contains pictures of his old Glee club. The center picture is of New Directions at Nationals, 2012. Somehow, he'd managed to talk Mr Schuester into letting him be male lead for the contest, and the picture shows him lifting Rachel Berry high into the air as part of the choreography, while the rest of the choir dance behind them. They're both smiling as they sing, and Rachel looks like a fucking fairy or something. He rolls his eyes amusedly. Unsurprisingly, she'd been the girl to sing the duet with him, and together they'd gotten first place. Honestly? He'd expected it. They'd been dating at the time, and she'd made him practice with her every night, starting a month before the competition. He remembers her rule suddenly, and it makes him bark out a dry laugh - if they didn't practice, he wasn't allowed to make out with her. He'd been totally whipped and he didn't even mind.
She was the girl who had broken up with him at the beginning of summer that year. After a full year together, they ended on bad terms, and he scowls at the memory.
Puck closes the book and shoves it aside, unpacking a few more boxes before giving up for the night. He's pretty damn tired after spending the day moving his shit from the city to the new place. He finishes his beer and thinks of jumping into the pool despite the fact that it's getting dark outside, but the doorbell rings, interrupting his thoughts.
It's Laura, the model he's been seeing casually for the last couple of weeks, and he smirks at the sight of her, opening the door a little wider to let her in. She looks impressed at the sight of this new house.
"Thought you had a shoot tonight," He says, and she giggles, deliberately brushing her body against his as she slides past him.
"Canceled," She says throatily, and kicks her heels off, shrugging out of her jacket and handing it to Puck. He takes it and hangs it up, eyeing her hungrily. "So this is your new place, huh? Can I explore?"
"Babe, I'd rather you explored me instead."
She bites her lip and steps closer to him, her perfectly-manicured hand moving to cup him through his jeans. "You got it. Let's go."
And that's how he ends up sitting back on the couch, eyes closed as the blond kneels before him, enthusiastically sucking him off.
Yeah, so his life pretty much rules right now.
… … …
The following morning, he wakes up in his boxers on the couch, simply because he doesn't have a bed set up yet. Laura isn't around – he pretty much kicked her out last night after sexing her up real good, using the excuse that he had to be up early. It wasn't completely a lie, it's just that he hates having chicks around in the morning, when they're all cuddly and want breakfast and stuff. Who really needs that shit?
He has a casting session today, for the movie. It's the kind of casting session that he actually looks forward to, because today they're looking for the female lead. Honestly, there's nothing better than eyeing up hot actresses all day, and the fact that he gets paid for that shit is a-fucking-mazing. So yeah, he's pretty excited about it.
Puck gets up from the couch and stretches, before walking over to the patio doors and stepping out into his garden. The heatwave hits him the second he steps outside, and he closes his eyes for a second as the rays of sunlight warm his naked chest. He's moves to stand over the railing and spends a moment watching the sun's reflection sparkling in the calm water below him. Yeah, he loves California.
… … …
His good mood has completely disappeared by five in the afternoon. The heatwave has risen dramatically, and spending the day in a stuffy room while sitting around a table with four other people is definitely not the best way to cool down. There's sweat trickling down the back of his neck and he legit wants to just drown himself in ice cold water or something.
They've seen, in total, around thirty chicks so far (including Katherine Heigl. Fucking sexy as hell, by the way) and there's about five more to go. He legit couldn't be happier about that, and as the other people in the room read over the resumé of the next actress, Puck zones out, hunching over the table and letting out a pathetic moan.
"Alright there, Puckerman?" The director Ben laughs, and claps a hand on his shoulder sympathetically.
"S'fucking hot," Puck grumbles, and right on cue, an assistant enters the room with glasses of ice-cold water for Ben, Puck, Puck's co-producer Nick, and the two casting directors, Sally and Christina.
"Shit, Emma, I fuckin' worship you," Puck says to the young redhead assistant as she places a glass in front of him. Emma is straight out of college and looking for experience in the industry, and it's no secret that she's a little bit in love with Puck. She blushes fiercely and giggles, accidentally spilling some of Ben's water from his glass. Instantly, a horrified expression appears on her face and she quickly stammers an apology, but Ben brushes it off with a kind smile, simply asking her to go grab some napkins and send the next girl in.
"You've got all of these poor young ladies wrapped around your finger, don't you Puck?" Sally fondly rolls her eyes, and he winks at her charmingly.
"Sure do, babe. But I like 'em better when they're wrapped around my-"
"Okay! That's enough!" Christina interrupts quickly, and everyone laughs, including Puck. Grinning at his team, he picks up his drink and presses it to his forehead for a moment, sighing in relief as the cold glass soothes his sweaty skin.
Emma enters the room again and immediately moves to clean up the spilled water. Puck barely notices her though – he's too busy staring in shock at the brunette who followed her into the room and closed the door behind them.
"Rachel Berry, it's great to meet you," Ben says warmly, getting to his feet and holding out his hand for her to shake. She immediately takes it and beams, making her way along the long table and smiling happily as she listens to everyone introduce themselves. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright with excitement. She's a fucking tornado of greetings, laughter, and confidence, and she obviously hasn't noticed Puck yet.
"It's so wonderful to meet you! Hi, how are you? It's so hot outside, isn't it? Hello, I- oh."
She reaches Puck then, who's slouched back in his chair simply smirking at her. Her mouth falls open and he watches the corners of her lips spread into a small, uncertain smile.
Puck nods at her. "Sup, Berry?"
She shakes her head in disbelief, her hand flying to her face. "Noah. I had no idea you were working on... Hi. How are you?"
"M'alright. You?" His eyes rake over her body, taking in her appearance. She looks fucking incredible in her breezy yellow sundress, her legs (they've always been one of her best features) seemingly elongated in a pair of white heels. Her hair is tied back but is all curly and falling over one shoulder and stuff. She's grown it out, and he can't help but be reminded of the fact that he's always loved her long hair.
Puck can see Ben and Nick watching them carefully, both wearing matching confused but amused expressions. He didn't miss the way they glanced at each other when she called him 'Noah'. No one ever calls him Noah.
He really doesn't know how he feels about seeing her right now. It's a little awkward, considering the fact that the last time he saw her, he called her a selfish bitch.
"I'm good," She says quietly, still wearing that small smile. "I'm good. But anyway, maybe we can catch up later. For now, let's get down to business, shall we?
Everyone laughs at her focused attitude with the exception of Puck, who smirks again and rolls his eyes. Rachel went on a billion auditions back in high school, for local musicals and shit, but she's never auditioned for him before. It's kinda weird that he gets a say in whether they give her this role or not. This should be pretty damn interesting.
"It says here that this is your first ever movie audition? How do you go from the bright lights of Broadway to plain old Hollywood?" Ben smiles at her easily, holding up the papers of her details in front of him. Puck glances down to his own copy, cursing himself out for not paying attention earlier when they were talking about her. Sure enough, there's a huge, glossy picture of her smiling face, alongside a list of her acting credits and other relevant information. Fuck, this is weird. Insanely weird.
"Yes. I've spent my entire life doing stage performances and I feel like it's time for a change. I've always been interested in the film industry and now that I've just finished my latest show, I figured it would be a great time to give it a shot." She talks brightly and quickly, oozing confidence and focus with every word. She hasn't changed a bit.
"And your last show was Wicked, correct?" Sally interjects, and Rachel smiles proudly.
"That's correct. I played Elphaba for over a year. It was a wonderful experience." Her eyes dart towards Puck and he raises his eyebrows, undoubtedly impressed. That was always one of her dream roles. She used to tell him that when they lay on her bed, just talking for hours on end. He knew she was on Broadway (fuck, how could she not be?), but he didn't know the details until now.
She makes cheerful conversation and talks about her acting experience with the crew, but Puck stays silent, choosing to read her acting credentials instead. She starred as Maria in West Side Story. She's already won a Tony. She's obviously accomplished everything she wanted, and it doesn't surprise him even a little bit.
"Okay, Rachel, you know the scene you're going to read? You'll be reading it with Nick, who is in no way a decent actor, so we're counting on you to hold up the scene," Brad grins, challenging her, and Rachel laughs musically, nodding before she takes a deep breath, obviously getting into character.
Thing is though, the character is dark, and a total BAMF. The movie is this psychological thriller, and the script is fucking amazing, and he never would've guessed it would be Rachel's kind of thing at all. The character she's auditioning for has multiple personalities and turns out to be this psycho killer chick, but she's sexy and sassy, and bossy and dominant, and he should be surprised that Rachel Berry fucking nails the part of this cool-as-fuck character, but he's really not. She just takes whatever role and pretty much makes it her bitch, and that's the way it's always been.
She's better than pretty much every other actress that they've seen today, and he kind of resents her for that. He isn't sure yet if he even wants her working on his movie. Whatever.
At the end of the read-through she's still, her face still completely in character until Christina starts the round of applause. Then she breaks, her face splitting into a huge smile. Puck doesn't clap, but he stares at her, eyebrow raised.
Ben lets out a low whistle and she blushes modestly. Puck chuckles bitterly to himself. She's rarely ever fucking modest.
"Rachel, I'm impressed," Ben says, and Nick nods eagerly in agreement, looking like he's about to fucking jizz in his pants or something. "Thanks so much for reading for us today."
"No, no, thank you for the opportunity," She gushes, and Nick looks as though he's in love with her. Pathetic.
She leaves moments later, and Puck groans quietly as the room erupts into praise and comments on Rachel's look and performance. She's totally getting a callback, and there's nothing he can say that will change their mind. He knows that. He still doesn't know if he wants her around. He remains kind of pissed at her, even though their break-up was nearly ten years ago.
"How do you even know her?" Nick asks him, pulling him into the conversation, and he shrugs uninterestedly.
"High school. Used to date her."
"Seriously?" Nick gapes, his brow furrowing. "Lucky bastard."
… … …
Rachel waits in the corridor outside for an hour, watching a few more girls walk in and out of the audition room. Her palms are sweaty, but she knows that it's not because of the stifling heat. She should have left an hour ago, went back to her hotel room and waited for her agent to call her with news of her audition, but she just can't bring herself to leave without catching up with an old friend. It's been almost ten years since she's last seen him, and yes, there are some hard-feelings on both their parts, but that's why they should talk, right? To make things right between them.
Seeing him again brought a whole bunch of feelings flooding back, and she's not sure how to feel about that. She just can't believe it. Seeing was surprising, to say the least. And he looks... He looks so good, that's undeniable. California suits him, and she breathes out a quiet laugh at the thought. She never would have guessed.
She and Noah dated all through their senior year of high school, after he confessed in the summer before school started that he'd always been jealous of her relationship with Finn. He admitted that he'd always wanted her, and she'd never heard him sound more genuine about anything. So she kissed him, and they'd fallen into a relationship quickly and easily. In many ways they were perfect for each other; his laid-back attitude and playful humor balanced her fierce determination, and he was often able to calm her down when she was in full-on rant mode, something that not many people could do. Unlike any relationship she'd had before, he'd loved her because of her flaws, loved her unconditionally, and she loved him too. It was because of that reason that she'd given him her virginity.
Things began to fall apart when the future became an issue. All of a sudden there were college applications, and exams, and important decisions to make, and although none of these things affected Rachel (she'd had her entire life planned out since she was six years old), they were a problem for Noah. He wasn't one for giving the future much thought, and it had frustrated her. She'd tried hard, bringing him college brochures and job application forms, and he'd had absolutely no interest whatsoever. As someone who had a plan for herself for almost every situation, his breezy attitude had worried her. What did it mean for their relationship if he was so uncommitted? After all, she'd been packed to leave for New York and NYU basically since she got the acceptance letter. After months of trying to make him care about himself and his future (and ultimately their relationship), she eventually stopped trying on the day of their graduation, and broke up with him after the ceremony on her front porch. They'd argued for at least an hour, and it still hurts her a little when she thinks of the moment that Noah had called her a 'selfish bitch'. In a way, she'd believed his words because yes, she'd given up on him, but really, had it been so selfish to want to care about her own future for a change, after months of worrying about his?
She sighs softly to herself, before nervously reaching up to fix her hair.
A beautiful blond girl steps out of the room then, and smiles tightly at her before walking towards the exit, brushing her hair confidently over her shoulder. There are no other girls in the corridor, and Rachel hopes that means that auditions are officially over.
It's another twenty minutes before Noah appears with the rest of his co-workers, and she stands up in way of greeting. He raises his eyebrows when he notices her and steps towards her, and she notices that Nick punches him lightly on the arm as the others say their goodbyes.
"Hi," She says softly, and he only nods in acknowledgment. "Can we talk?"
… … …
They end up sitting in a quiet little bar with a relaxed atmosphere and the best mojitos that Rachel has ever tasted. She let's out a satisfied hum as she takes her first sip and she watches Puck smirk at her.
"Good?"
"Yes. It's refreshing. I didn't expect LA to be so warm."
"Warmer than New York?"
"Much."
They sit in silence for a moment as they sip their drinks, and Rachel tries to stop her eyes from flicking over to Noah, where he's absent-mindedly picking at the label on his beer. This whole situation is more than a little awkward.
"Your audition was good today," He says suddenly, breaking the silence. Rachel smiles at him, sitting up a little straighter in her seat. She's glad that he's making a little bit of an effort, and her career is always something that she's been good at talking about.
"Really? Thank you. I've actually been very nervous these last few days."
"Yeah, well, there was no need to be."
She laughs softly, and takes another sip of her drink.
"Actually, you got a callback. Your agent or whatever will probably call you with the details soon." His voice is calm, matter-of-fact, and he's watching her carefully.
Her mouth falls open and she stares at him with wide eyes. "Are you serious?"
He nods, and Rachel lets out a squeal, bouncing a little in her chair. It makes him chuckle and she blushes a little, but she's too happy right now to really care that he's laughing at her. "Oh my God. Thank you! This is wonderful."
He shrugs, wearing a smile she doesn't quite recognize. "You deserved it."
"Oh my God," She says again, hiding her face in her hands for a second as she tries to get control over herself. She can't wait to call her friends back in New York. With a warm smile, she looks back up at the man sitting across from her, shaking her head. "How weird is it that I just auditioned for Noah Puckerman, of all people?"
Noah laughs then, genuinely, and some of that weird tension before seems to disappear a little. "So fucking weird. When I saw you walk into the room I thought I was going goddamn crazy."
"I didn't even know you were working on that movie! I mean, I know you're a producer because I've been playing close attention to the industry over the last year, and I see you in all the magazines, but I didn't know-"
"I never thought you'd do movies. I thought you'd be on Broadway for like, ever. And you're in LA. Why the fuck would you come to LA, when you're New York's biggest fangirl?"
Rachel's cheeks are flushed with pleasure and she giggles. "Sometimes change can be good, you know?"
"Yeah, I know."
… … …
"This is your house?" Rachel's mouth is gaping in astonishment as Puck leads her through to the living room, and she gasps at the glass wall on one side, which looks straight out over the ocean. "Oh, wow, Noah."
"Moved in yesterday," He says proudly. "That's why it's kinda messy. Sorry about that."
He can't quite get over how weird this shit is. They have so much history together, and yet they seem to have completely brushed over that, at least for the moment. They spent over an hour in that bar talking about the movie and their careers, and what started out as awkward had turned into something strangely fun.
He only had one beer (though Rachel had like, 3 mojitos), and by the time they left, he was perfectly able to drive. As he drove Rachel to her hotel, they'd both complained about the heat, and somehow they ended up on their way to Puck's place after he said something about being so fucking glad he had a pool, and Rachel absolutely insisted he take her to go get her bathing suit.
"It's just so pretty," She sighs wistfully, as she looks around the living room. Rachel slides open the patio doors and steps out into his garden, eyes wide as she takes in the pool, the barbeque area, the view, and the trampoline he bought himself.
She's laughing. "Why on earth do you have a trampoline?"
He grins at her. "Because I can."
She shakes her head and steps over to the railing just as he did this morning, looking out at the ocean. It's almost nine o'clock at night and because it's summer, the sun is only just setting. The sky is a pinky-orange color and Rachel lets out an envious breath as he moves to stand beside her, handing her a beer.
"I'm officially jealous of you. I wish we had views like this in Manhattan," She says softly, accepting the bottle. She glances down at it and then back up at Noah, eyes hesitant. "I shouldn't. I've already had a little too much to drink. And you know what happens when I mix them."
"Dare ya." He challenges, and fuck, she looks insanely good right now.
She rolls her eyes playfully and takes a long sip then, letting out a moan of appreciation as the cool liquid hits her throat. "Why are you trying to get me drunk?"
He grins and shrugs, moving away from her to sit his bottle by the side of the pool. He knows she's watching him as he pulls off his shirt and shorts, leaving him in just his boxers. Without acknowledging Rachel at all, he dives into the pool gracefully, using his arms to propel him through the water. When he breaks the surface and wipes his eyes, Rachel is stepping out of her sundress, revealing a powder blue bikini.
Her body is fucking unreal. He's pointedly checking her out, and she blushes, but she's giggling. He can't help but assume that the alcohol is having a major affect on her actions. She never used to be this chilled out.
But then again, he doesn't know her anymore.
He watches as she sits her bottle down next to his and jumps recklessly into the water, not bothering to dive like he did. Smiling to herself, she floats on her back, looking up at the clear sky.
"How did all of this happen?" She asks, and he knows that she's talking about his house, his job, everything.
"I got lucky," Is all he says after a short pause, and she swims over to him, lifting her body up to sit on the edge of the pool, her feet dangling in the cool blue water.
She's thinking of how he used to be the complete opposite of how he is now, with a lack of focus and no interest in an education or a careers. He knows she's thinking about it, because he is too, but neither of them want to mention it, and when he meets her eyes she simply smiles and bites her lip.
She's so fucking sexy. And he's still maybe kind of mad at her for saying the things she said during that argument, but at the same time she's grown into this funny, attractive, confident woman and fuck, how is he supposed to be mad at that?
Puck swims towards her, erasing the short distance between them, and stands between her legs, his eyes on her face. She watches him curiously for a second and giggles again, before purposely kicking her foot through the water to splash him. He grins and flicks water over her wet skin to retaliate and she giggles harder, moving to kick at the water again.
He grabs a hold of her legs before she can though, and suddenly no one is laughing anymore. Puck watches his hands travel slowly along her calves, over her knees, and up her thighs before coming to rest just below the line of her bikini bottoms. He looks up then, and she's watching him closely, uncertainly.
He's about to pull away, but she makes the mistake of licking her lips, and he doesn't think about what he's doing, just simply presses his lips to hers.
She gasps as their lips meet and lets out a tiny little squeak into the kiss, and Puck thinks it's just about one of the hottest sounds he's ever heard in his life. She kisses him back then, her arms coming to rest on his muscled shoulders and holy shit, he can't believe he forgot how good of a kisser she was.
She nips gently at his lower lip and he groans softly before moving one hand up into her hair, holding her head firmly in place so she can't move. Rachel doesn't seem to mind and her tongue dances with his in a battle for dominance.
They kiss for a short while the same way they did as teenagers, as though kissing is a form of sex all on its own. It's enthusiastic and familiar, and it ends when Puck grows hard against Rachel's thigh.
Rachel pulls away instantly, her dazed expression quickly turning in to one of complete horror. She stares at Puck with huge eyes, her hand flying to touch her lips.
"What? Rach, what is it?" He asks, because shit, it's not like she can expect him to not be hard after-
"I shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have kissed me!" She says panicky, and she scrambles to her feet, obviously freaking out.
"What the-"
"Noah, I have a boyfriend!"