Well this is a first for me; I've never written a story where Rachel wasn't the main character, even though she does have a large part in this story. I feel a little out of my element, but couldn't get this story idea out of my head. So here goes…again, I don't own the characters or Glee, just the muse that makes this happen.
Sitting here wasted and wounded at this old piano
Trying hard to capture the moment this morning I don't know
'Cause a bottle of vodka is still lodged in my head
And some blond gave me nightmares, think that she's still in my bed
As I dream about movies
They won't make of me when I'm dead
Puck ran his hands over the ivory keys of the piano, playing the familiar tune of his current hit song. Sweat trickled down his face as he leaned into the microphone attached to the piano, crooning out the words he had written so many months earlier. He had no idea when he penned this song it would be such a hit, especially with the ladies. Glancing over at Finn on the drums, Puck nodded his head at his old friend. The sold out Boston crowd had him on a euphoric high.
Rachel watched from the wings, a clipboard and bottle of water tucked neatly in her arms. Peeking out, she could see oodles of women and young girls, most crying or reaching their arms out in a feeble attempt to lay their hands on one Noah Puckerman. Rachel laughed to herself, wondering if all those young, impressionable women had lost their minds.
The vibration of the cell phone in her pocket startled her. Fumbling through her thin jacket, she clicked the answer button on her iPhone without bothering to look to see who was calling.
"Hello?" Rachel yelled, holding the phone up to one ear, attempting to plug her other ear while balancing the clipboard and water under her arm. She retreated from the side of the stage, hoping to find a quieter place to answer the call.
"Rachel?" The voice on the other end screamed back.
"Hold on a sec." She hollered into the phone. There was really no spot anywhere in the vicinity that was peaceful, so she would just have to make do.
"Rachel, its Quinn." Rachel could hear the roar of the crowd as Puck finished his song, Finn playing a short drum solo as Puck thanked everyone for coming. "I tried calling Puck's phone, but he didn't answer. I thought the concert would be over by now."
"Oh hey Quinn." Rachel cringed; she really hated talking to Puck's wife. "We got started a little late, so he's just finishing up now."
Rachel's eyes were glued to Puck as he swayed by her, a towel wrapped around his neck, grabbing the bottle of water from the crook of her arm. She paid no attention to Quinn's rambling on the other end of the line. Instead she watched as Puck slung his arm around one of his backup singer's shoulders. The Latina laughed at something Puck had obviously said, playfully swatting him on the arm as they both retreated into Puck's dressing room.
"Rachel? Are you still there?" Quinn asked.
"What? Oh sorry Quinn. I'll have him call you as soon as he gets changed, ok." Rachel sputtered into the phone, quickly disconnecting the call.
"Why did you lie for him?" Rachel spun around to find Finn standing directly behind her, his eyes silently judging her.
"It's what I get paid to do." She spat, stalking off.
With an ironclad fist I wake up and French kiss the morning
While some marching band keeps its own beat in my head
While we're talking
About all the things I long to believe
About love, the truth, what you mean to me and the truth is
Baby you're all I need
Rachel knocked softly. She could hear the unmistaken sound of soft moans and laughter. It made her feel sick. She knocked harder, hoping Puck would get the message that she wasn't going away.
"What?" Puck flung open the door. The towel was still around his neck, however his shirt was missing and the fly to his jeans just barely unzipped. Peeking over his shoulder, Rachel could see the backup singer, Santana, stretched out on the couch, shoes off, her shirt pushed up slightly, revealing a shiny belly button ring.
"Call your wife." Rachel growled, not bothering to care whether Santana heard her or not. She spun around on her heels, clipboard still in hand, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. Puck hurried after her, grabbing at her shoulder.
"Wait." Puck begged. Rachel stopped walking, not bothering to turn to face him, so he stepped in front of her, turning to face her instead. "What did you tell Quinn?"
"If you wondering if I told your wife about the little sick game you're playing, then you're wrong." Puck's shoulders sagged in relief. "That should come from your mouth, not mine."
The hair on Puck's neck prickled as he heard Santana playfully call his name from his dressing room, Rachel pushing past him in frustration. Being the assistant for a lying, cheating, womanizing Neanderthal just wasn't what it was cracked up to be.
"Puuuck." Santana called out again, toying playfully with a strand of her long brown hair. The thought of kicking her out was running through Puck's mind as he returned to the dressing room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Until he got a fleeting look of her lying sprawled on the couch, her short skirt hiked up above her hips, her thong tossed haphazardly on the floor. She had one hand up against her chest, twirling a piece of her hair lazily around her fingers. Her other hand was resting comfortably between her legs, two fingers rubbing against her own clit. Instead, he locked the door and unbuttoned his pants, a devilish grin plastered across his face.
I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses
For tonight I'll sleep in a bed of nails
I wanna be just as close as your Holy Ghost
And lay you down on a bed of roses
His head was throbbing, his mouth dry, the faint taste of beer and cigarettes still lingering. Rolling over, Puck could see Quinn lying on her side, facing away from him, the sheet pulled up to her waist. He scooted over closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pushing his ever growing erection into her back. He knew she'd have no trouble feeling that through her thin nightgown. She squirmed slightly, so he pressed harder.
"Good morning." He leaned his head close to hers, whispering in her ear.
"Good morning." She rolled over on her back, smiling. She looked around, almost forgetting they were in a hotel in Boston, not their own sprawling mansion back in LA.
Puck ran his hand across the front of her nightgown, slowly pulling the material up until her bare stomach was exposed. He lightly ran his thumb up, pushing it underneath her nightgown, flicking it across her nipple. She flinched slightly, letting out a soft giggle. His erection was hard as stone, throbbing against his underwear. Using his free hand, he pushed his underwear down, kicking them off swiftly. Before straddling her, he shimmied her out of her own underwear, throwing them to the end of the bed.
He wasn't in the mood for foreplay today. Instead, he pushed her legs up closer to her chest while he sat almost atop her, brushing the tip of his penis over her clit a few times. He knew what she wanted, but more importantly he knew what he wanted. He hadn't seen his wife in weeks. The tour had taken him all over the US, which meant they went weeks, sometimes months without seeing each other. Fortunately, Quinn had flown out to spend one day in Boston and he was going to take full advantage of that right now.
Quinn moaned in pleasure as he rubbed his penis against her once more before thrusting himself into her, hard and unapologetically. She was so tight and warm; he figured that's what weeks of no sex would do to a woman. She closed her eyes as he pumped harder and harder, several more times before spilling himself deep inside her.
"Fuck!" He swore as tried to regain his breathing. "Damn, that felt good, baby."
She opened her eyes to catch him rolling off of her, sprawling back on the bed, pulling the sheet up to cover his naked body.
"Why don't you order some room service? I don't have to be down for the sound check until three." He suggested, closing his eyes.
"Okay." Quinn watched his chest rise and fall as he quickly fell asleep. Pushing herself off the bed, she scooped up her underwear, padding towards the bathroom for a quick shower.
Well I'm so far away the step that I take's on my way home
A king's ransom in dimes I'd give each night
To see through this pay phone
Still I run out of time or it's hard to get through
Till the bird on the wire flies me back to
You'll just close your eyes, whisper baby blind love is true
Finn slammed the bottle back on the table, gulping loudly as he let the cold beer slide down his throat. He had lost count of how many he was on. He watched through slit eyes as Puck grinded on the dance floor with that back up dancer, the one Finn was sure he was screwing. Obviously everyone in the club was either blind or as drunk as he was, because no one seemed to notice that was the Noah Puckerman gyrating his crotch against a woman who was clearly not his wife.
"Jealous?" Rachel asked, setting her glass of wine on the table, as she slid in the booth next to Finn.
"Of that?" Finn nodded his head towards the dance floor where Puck and Santana were practically dry humping. "How does he do it?"
"How does he do what?" She slowly sipped her wine. "How does he sleep at night? How does he have a conscious? That's a very good question."
"I don't know why Quinn puts up with that." Finn shook his head, spinning his empty beer bottle on the table.
"Neither do I." Rachel shook her head. Puck and Santana finished their dirty dancing session, making their way over to snatch the empty booth across from Finn and Rachel with Tim, Puck's head security guy trailing close behind them.
"Going outside to call Quinn real quick." Puck whispered in Rachel's ear before disappearing outside the club.
Plucking his cell phone and a cigarette from the inside pocket of his jacket, he lit his cigarette quickly before dialing Quinn's number, taking a long drag while he waited for her to answer.
"Hey babe." He exclaimed, flicking his ashes onto the sidewalk.
"Hey you." Quinn smiled.
"You got home okay?" He asked, leaning against the building, taking another drag on his cigarette. Puck wondered if she could tell he was smoking right now. She hated when he did, always nagging him, so he only did it when he was on the road.
"Yeah it was fine." Quinn said. "I miss you already."
"Miss you too." Puck replied. "I gotta go. I'm having dinner with Finn and Rachel and our table is ready." He bit his lip, wondering if she could see right through his lie.
"You guys have fun. I love you." Puck could hear her blow a kiss through the phone.
"I'll try to call you tomorrow." He punched the end button, sighing loudly.
Puck returned to the table to find Santana holding a glass of Jack and coke for him. She passed it to him, snatching the still burning cigarette from his other hand, placing it between her lips. Finn and Rachel watched in astonishment as Santana leaned over to Puck, placing her lips on his, kissing him hard as she exhaled the smoke into his mouth. He didn't seem to care. Rachel was sure he was trying to see if he could get a reaction from her or Finn. Finn looked away. Rachel reached in her purse, fumbling through her wallet for money. She threw a twenty dollar bill on the table, gathering her purse in her arms. She stood up, looking at Finn.
"That should cover my glass of wine." Rachel smiled politely. "I really should be getting back to the hotel."
"Here, let me walk you back." Finn offered, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. He tossed two twenties on the table in front of Puck.
"Where are you going? The party's just getting started." Puck held his glass up in the air.
"This girl is partied out. We gotta hit the road early in the morning if we want to make it to New York." Rachel flashed Puck an ill-attempted smile before rushing out of the club, Finn close behind her.
I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses
For tonight I'll sleep in a bed of nails
I wanna be just as close as your Holy Ghost
And lay you down on a bed of roses
Santana knocked softly, peering over her shoulder to make sure no one noticed her. Opening the door, she peeked inside, stepping through the threshold quickly, closing the door behind her. The room was empty, sans Puck's outfit for the night hanging on a rack, his toiletry bag lying on the makeup chair. Sound check had ended over an hour ago, so she assumed he would be relaxing before the concert. Unbuttoning her shirt, she decided to wait.
Rachel knocked once before turning the door knob, talking out loud as she read from her clipboard.
"Noah, Jim wants to meet with you before you…" She looked up to see Santana lying on the tan couch, a shirt barely covering her. "Oh!"
"Rachel, what the fuck are you doing here?" Santana screeched, pulling her bare legs to her chest and the shirt down to cover as much of her skin as she could.
"I came here to go over some last minute things with Noah, that's what assistants do. What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with the other girls having Melanie do your hair." Rachel couldn't even look at her. "Please have the decency to put your clothes back on."
Rachel turned away from Santana as the Latina scooped up her jeans, jumping back into them quickly, slipping her shoes on afterwards. She sat back down on the couch, buttoning up her shirt.
"Why are you doing this?" Rachel finally turned back to her.
"Doing what?" Santana pretended to ignore Rachel's stare, instead concentrating on an imaginary hangnail.
"You know what I'm talking about." Rachel raised an eyebrow, pressing her clipboard to her chest.
"Oh, you mean fucking Puck? Well because I can." Santana sneered.
"You're going to ruin a marriage." Rachel lowered her eyes, wondering if anything she was saying was even getting through to the singer.
"Ha!" Santana laughed. She stood up, peering down at Rachel. "You call that a marriage?"
Santana pushed past Rachel. "He won't leave her, I hope you realize that." Rachel called out, Santana stopping in her tracks, turning back to glare at Rachel.
"I don't expect him to." She spat, opening the door quickly, slamming it abruptly behind her.
Well this hotel bar's hangover whiskey's gone dry
The bartender's wigs crooked
And she's giving me the eye
Well I might have said yeah
But I laughed so hard I think I died
Ohh yeah
"Do you love her?" Finn asked, waving his hand in the air to signal the bartender they needed another round.
"Who, Santana?" Puck felt the vodka burn going down his throat. The bartender reappeared, refilling their shot glasses once more.
"No." Finn rolled his eyes before bringing his glass to his lips, downing the drink in one swallow. "Quinn."
"Of course I do." Puck sat his glass down on the bar loudly.
"Does she know that?" Finn raised an eyebrow. "You don't even wear your weeding ring."
"Who are we talking about now?" Puck watched as the bartender filled their glasses, Finn sliding money across the bar when he was finished. Puck wondered why if he was the rock star, Finn was paying for their drinks.
"Does Quinn know you love her?" Finn repeated his question, his voice a little more stern, pulling a folded magazine from the waistband of his jeans. Laying it on the bar, he pushed it towards Puck. "Page six."
"What the hell is this?" Puck demanded, his drummer simply frowning in response. Puck unfolded the magazine, flipping quickly to page six. He scanned the page, but it didn't take him long to know exactly what Finn was referring to. At the bottom of the page was a rather unflattering picture of him and Santana pressed against each other, dancing. It was obviously taken at the club a few nights earlier. A caption underneath read "Looks like Puckerman has been enjoying a little Latin flavor."
"This is horse shit." Puck threw the magazine across the bar.
"You think Quinn's not going to see that?" Finn warned him.
"I do love her." Puck whispered, hanging his head in defeat.
Now as you close your eyes
Know I'll be thinking about you
While my mistress she calls me to stand in her spotlight again
Tonight I won't be alone
But you know that don't mean I'm not lonely
I've got nothing to prove for it's you I'd die to defend
He listened to the phone ring over and over. It was the fifth time he had tried to call Quinn. He left another message, hoping she would finally return his call before his seven o'clock performance. The silence was killing him. He could only hope she hadn't seen the tabloid magazine, but who was he kidding. She was in LA, no doubt it was plastered at every grocery store and gas station in town.
He threw his phone across the room just as his dressing room door eased open. Santana slipped in, a seductive smile painted across her mouth.
"Just thought I'd come by and give you a little good luck present." Kneeling in front of him, she rubbed her hand across his crotch, slowly unzipping his jeans. Puck grabbed her hand, pulling her up off the ground, pushing her away from him.
"No Santana." He growled. "Go."
She looked at him confused. "I said go!" He screamed.
I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses
For tonight I'll sleep in a bed of nails
I wanna be just as close as your Holy Ghost
And lay you down on a bed of roses
"Quinn, what are you doing here?" Rachel took her place offstage, shocked to see Puck's wife in attendance, standing where Rachel normally did. She rarely came to his concerts, especially when they were on the other side of the continent.
"I can't do it anymore, Rachel." Quinn said, staring at Puck, who was seated at the piano, playing his current hit song as his closing number.
"I'm sorry?" Rachel asked.
Quinn slowly removed her wedding rings from her left ring finger, turning to Rachel, carefully placing them in Rachel's hand.
"Make sure he gets those okay." Tears ran down Quinn's cheeks. "I'll see you around."
Rachel watched Quinn walk away, her mind swirling over the events that had just transpired.
"Wait, where are you going?" Rachel shouted. Quinn ceased walking, looking briefly over her shoulder at Rachel.
"Not sure yet." Quinn shrugged. "I think I need to focus on me for a while."
"Good luck Quinn." Rachel smiled, feeling sorry for the pretty blonde.
"Thanks." Quinn waved one last time and then was gone. Rachel rolled Quinn's wedding rings in her hand, hearing the all too familiar sound of Finn's drum solo as Puck thanked the audience for coming to the show.
I wanna lay you down in a bed of roses
For tonight I'll sleep in a bed of nails
I wanna be just as close as your Holy Ghost
And lay you down on a bed of roses
Wow, a lot of firsts for me it seems. This is the longest one-shot I've ever written and I don't usually include Quinn in my stories. I'm usually only good writing mean Quinn, lol. Sorry if Puck and Santana came out looking like jerks, but I had a story to tell. Song Puck is singing & used throughout is Bed of Roses by Bon Jovi. Let me know what you think, reviews mean so much to me!