A deleted scene from Mash-Up, or, rather, the week or so Rachel and Puck were actually dating. Written for Puckleberry week.
She won't stop fidgeting.
She's been in his car like, five minutes at this point, and it's literally the quietest she's ever been, and she won't stop fidgeting. And it's annoying as all hell because for some reason it pisses him off that she's not blabbering on like she's supposed to.
He's freaked out. Thinks something is wrong. Maybe he said something? Nah, it's like impossible to get a word in edge-wise with her, really. He'd managed to sneak that first kiss when they were "rehearsing" or whatever, and since then he realized the only time she wasn't running her mouth was when they were makin' out. And it was kind of his go-to after listening to her sing for hours on end.
Rachel had a killer voice 'n all, but, like, shit. It's a lot.
He smirks a little at the thought. Sure, she's a little desperate, but she's a good kisser. And he'll be damned if he didn't frickin' love the idea of knowing how short her skirt was, and how there just had to be only one thin layer of cotton between his jeans and her—
"Are you okay?" he blurts out, as if he almost felt a little guilty for thinking like that with her right there. Or, more realistically, totally knowing there's no way in hell Rachel's going to ever go for a side-of-the-road quickie.
Hell, she'd slapped his hand away twice yesterday, which was ridiculous, because the way she'd been working his mouth was practically screaming, 'I want you inside me.'
But whatever. Apparently he was wrong, and Rachel-fucking-Berry was just going to mess with his head for a while.
Didn't matter. He had a Jewish girl in his car, one who actually seemed like, happy to be around him or whatever, and he was taking her home to his mom for dinner and she was going to smile at him and tell him and hell finally fucking feel like he isn't just some screw-up.
After all, Quinn's not talking to him. His mom just goes on and on about how he's not doing anything right. Rachel could solve at least one of those problems. And, well, she was kind of cool, in her own, weird way, so who the hell even needed Quinn?
Sure as hell not him.
"Um, yeah," she answers meekly, "I mean, it's just been so long since I've been to your house…"
"Hasn't changed," he says gruffly. Thinking about Quinn pissed him off. He hears Rachel take in a quick breath, though, and glances over at her, sitting in the passenger seat of his car.
She looks so small, there. Her red sweater clings to her in a way he can appreciate, but now just makes her look tiny, and weirdly delicate sitting in the not-so-clean passenger seat of his beat-up old truck. And she's wearing one of those skirts, a black one today, and she's fiddling with the end of it and it's fucking distracting.
He remembers he's driving when she yells, "Noah, stop sign!" like she's scolding him or something, and his foot practically stomps out the brake and he mumbles a quick apology and keeps his eyes on the road, head angled down a little as he wets his lips.
And it's quiet again, because she knows he was staring at her and he knows she knows and it's weird.
Fuck.
He keeps his focus on the street, and takes a moment to figure out how to say what he says next. "You don't have to be like, nervous or anything, you know." He shrugs a shoulder like it's all whatever, 'cause it totally is. He has like, no doubt that his mom is gonna totally dig that she's the girl he's with now, and he has absolutely no idea how the hell she could ever be nervous about seeing someone she saw at temple like every week.
He kept it a secret from his mom. Partially out of spite, because damn straight he could get a Jewish girl no problem — girls flocked to the Puckmiester like that Artie kid did to wheelchair ramps, so, yeah. But, the rest of it was because he knew his mom would like, be really happy, and he wanted to kind of save it all up for one moment, something real special, or whatever.
Like hell he was going to explain all that to Rachel, so she was a little in the dark, but whatever.
"Yeah," she agrees with him, but she sounds weird and he doesn't get it so he tosses a confused look in her direction.
"Rachel," he's happy that she looks over at him, and his eyes leave hers for a moment to check the road before they come to another stop sign, the one right before the left turn into his neighborhood. "You like…" he starts, sighing a little, "want to get something to eat first? Grab a coffee, or some tea shit, whatever you want."
There's no one behind him, so he's staying at the stop sign and waiting for her answer, thumbs drumming on the steering wheel.
She takes a breath, and he looks back over at her expectantly, hand moving to the turn signal like he was anticipating pulling a u-ey and backtracking a bit to hit up the Lima Bean. But she shakes her head a little and looks over at him with a smile, "No, I'm okay. Thank you."
He raises his eyebrows a bit, but nods, and re-flicks the turn signal to the left and makes the turn, and it's just a minute or so until they're pulling up in front of his house and he looks over at her again.
"Hey," he says, leaning over and grazing her lips with a kiss, "don't freak out on me, okay? I'm gonna need you to do that thing you always do and deflect my mom."
She makes a confused face at him, "What are you—"
"Talking," he clarifies, though it's not exactly what he means. There's this thing about Rachel, when she really gets going, how she's all bubbly and excited and grinning ear to ear and it's like she's lighting up the fucking room or something. He's always thought that, really, so it's not like it's weird he's thinking it.
But he doesn't tell her anyway.
She smiles, though, and giggles a little like he told some sort of joke, and he gives her back a lazy, self-satisfied smile in return because he likes that he made her laugh.
"I can tell her what an amazing performer you are," she offers, almost like she was testing out the topic, and she sits up a little straighter in her seat as she unbuckles her seatbelt and, he thinks it's cute. "Or about how noble you've been," she's got this smile on her face now, and he can't really get what the hell it means, but he likes it. It's almost playful, or something, and she even leans in to catch his lips for one, slow kiss as her hand moves to rest on his cheek.
It's a little surprising, because usually it's him initiating the kissing. Actually, it's always been him initiating the kissing. And this is the first time she doesn't stammer or something when she pulls away. Just says, "Noah, you won't have to say a word!" all up-beat or whatever, and goes to open the door.
He's left hanging there for a moment, swallowing once before pulling his keys from the ignition and following her towards his front door.