Post-Original Song. Kurt never transferred, because I love him and want to write about him in McKinley situations. For the sake of smoother Puckleberrydom, Zises/Puck isn't in it. Nothing against Lauren, I've just loved Puckleberry since Mash-up. :) Quite a slow start-up but things will pick up speed. This is my first ever fanfic, so I would love reviews/feedback if you have any to offer!
He wasn't sure exactly how it started. But lately, more and more, Puck had found himself thinking about Rachel Berry. Yes, Tyrannosaurus Puck, daydreaming about the girl who would win any Annoying Midget of the Year award hands-down. It was pretty embarrassing to admit, even to himself. Whatever, though. He was probably just caught up on the fact that she hadn't even let him get to second base. It had to be some weird, passing phase. Come on – the Sex Shark, mooning over Berry? Never gonna happen.
{A few weeks prior...}
"Alright guys, we're all stoked about winning Regionals. You guys were great, and I want to say again how proud I am of you all. But remember, we have to keep our eyes on the prize. We have to be on top form if we want to take Nationals. This week, I've lined up some songs I know you'll love. And they're all about... inspiration." Mr Schuester, grinning excitedly, wrote the word "inspiration" on the board and underlined it for good measure.
Stifling a yawn, Puck was anything but inspired. Sure, he liked to sing, and he liked music. But he didn't get why they had to talk about it so damn much. Couldn't they just take a song as it was, sing it and have fun with it? If you start picking a song apart too much, you ruin it. He'd always been impulsive and impatient, so long talks about why exactly the singer used the word "and" were not his style.
"Mr Schuester, if I may?" The Glee club let out a collective sigh as Rachel's hand shot into the air. Even Mr Schue looked a little weary as he nodded for Rachel to go ahead. As the small brunette made her way to stand in front of the club, Puck pulled himself out of his daydream to check out her ass. He had to hand it to her: she had a great ass.
Hey, he was still a good Jew. A little ass-checking was nothing compared to what he could have done. He could have tried way harder to get her to put out, but he didn't. So really, he was owed a few check-outs, right?
Beaming, Rachel started to talk, in her characteristic fast-paced babble. "First off let me say that I'm thoroughly impressed by the improvement in everyone's attitudes. As you know I had been carrying most of this club's workload by myself due to laziness on many of your parts, and while my star talent made that entirely possible it's nice to know that I no longer have to shoulder the burden of other people's apathy."
Puck rolled his eyes, and he wasn't the only one. Behind him, he heard Santana let out of a huff of annoyance. Rachel didn't seem to know she was being obnoxious, and carried on as if she wasn't getting dirty looks from the entire room.
"I've applied my excellent organisational skills to a project I feel will help all of you." Picking up a stack of papers from the piano, she handed them out. "I created each of you a timetable filled with vocal exercises and goals specifically tailored to each of your individual flaws. Here's mine," she grinned, holding up an ornately decorated timetable on a sheet of A4, her name at the top, complete with a gold star. "Of course, I already have perfect pitch, so mine consists mainly of my usual vocal routine."
"Hold up a second, Schindler's List," Santana burst out, scanning her timetable angrily. "What the hell is this? My voice 'needs work in most areas, poor in many of them'? Are you TRYING to make me cut you?" Around the room, more people were noticing the criticism on their timetables, and before long Rachel was getting glares from almost everyone.
Obviously taken aback, she tried to stutter out an answer. "I- I- I just thought that with us training for Nationals, we have to try to be perfect, a-and try to make sure we all sound-"
"Sound like what – like you? Annoying, whiny and shrill? No thanks," Santana spat. "Why don't you and your big Jew nose take a permanent holiday somewhere? The North Pole maybe, or the bottom of the Pacific. That way I wouldn't have to deal with your stupid, mannish face every day. You are so annoying it makes me want to drop-kick a kitten. Shit, and you wonder why everyone hates you!" Her voice was filled with venom as she stood and stared down at Rachel.
"Santana! That's enough!" Mr Schue shouted, far too late as usual.
Santana merely sneered in return. "What? We're all thinking it, I'm just saying it. Nobody actually likes the little freak."
A few seconds of silence passed, and nobody spoke up. Rachel's head had dropped, her cheeks going red in humiliation. With a derisive laugh, Santana stalked out of the choir room.
Sighing, Mr Schue rubbed his face with his hands. "Guys... we should probably just leave practice for today. I'll see you in class or next practice." The teacher had apparently decided that continuing with practice would be useless, since everyone would be too busy staring daggers at Rachel. He was right.
The Glee members, all annoyed by and muttering about their respective 'timetables', left without a word to Rachel. Quinn sauntered away with a smirk on her face, tickled by Rachel's verbal beating. Finn hovered awkwardly for a moment as Rachel slumped into a chair, looking morose. He looked like he was about to talk to her, but a call of "Coming, Finn?" from Quinn sent him hurrying out the room. Even Mr Schue left in silence, giving Rachel a small pat on the back but offering no further comfort.
In the end, it was just Puck and Rachel. He felt a twinge as he watched her study the floor, her brown eyes filled with sadness, that left him feeling odd. Since when did he care if Berry got a little sad? It happened all the time. This chick cried over sad commercials.
"Hey, Berry," Puck stuck his hands in his pockets and sat in the chair next to her.
"What do you want, Puckerman? You want to tell me that no one likes me, too? That I'm an outcast in my own social group? I know that already, but thank you for reminding me."
What was he supposed to say to that? It was kind of true. He liked her all right, and she was pretty cool, but she was definitely on the irritating side sometimes. He didn't really know what he wanted, or why he was still there. Unable to answer, he shrugged and scuffed his feet off the floor.
Usually, Rachel's meltdowns left Puck laughing or shaking his head - or both. But this time, she was quiet. She wasn't wailing dramatically or throwing a fit. She just looked... lonely.
"I know people don't like me," Rachel murmured. Her voice was tiny, in complete contrast to how she usually spoke. "I know I'm obnoxious and I don't think before I say things and I can offend people. I try not to. I-I just thought that being in Glee club changed things. I thought... finally, here's people that like me. They know what I'm like but they can get past it because they're my friends. At last, I had some real friends. I guess I was wrong. Everyone still hates me; they just don't say it as much." She smiled bitterly, before her eyes started welling up and her mouth pulled down.
"I just wish people liked me," she whimpered, the tears spilling down her cheeks. She locked eyes with him and he had to take a breath. Her eyes were gorgeous. Even when she was crying – especially when she was crying. He'd never noticed how when the light hit them, they looked honey brown, rich and golden.
She seemed to notice his strange expression(he hadn't been able to look away from her for a good few seconds), and immediately her face changed.
She looked wary, but resigned. Like a beaten dog just bracing itself for the next kick. Puck had seen the look plenty of times before in the hallways, when Rachel noticed a bully approaching her with a slushie or a cruel grin. He had been that bully, on more than one occasion. Shit.
"Why are you even listening to me? We're not friends. You told me so yourself, the day we broke up. You never speak to me, apart from when you're telling me to shut up." No longer looking him in the eye, she seemed to expect an insult in response.
Like he wanted to be reminded of that. He still felt guilty about saying that to her, even though it was so long ago. If he could apologise, he would, but Puck had never been good at saying sorry.
Thinking about how much of an ass he was to her was making him itch. He had to steer the conversation in another direction. "Us Jews got to stick together, that's all." Not the best answer, but he went with it.
Rachel didn't say anything, and she was still sniffling. The silence stretched and Puck felt more uncomfortable by the second. The only thing worse than being with a crying chick, is sitting without speaking to a crying chick because you have no idea how to stop her blubbering.
"So... I still need to work on that high b, huh?" Puck finally said, forcing a half-grin onto his face as he looked over his timetable. If he was the type of person who gave a rat's ass about what other people thought, he might be offended by the thing. But whatever, it was just a stupid timetable, right? He didn't see what the big deal was.
"Yes," Rachel sniffed, her voice shaky, "The high b is a very important note for a baritenor. In fact I'd say it is crucial that our vocals are as polished as they can be if we have any hope of winning Nationals, although apparently our teammates don't feel the same. Frankly their complete lack of dedication is-"
"Whoa, Berry, calm down. Simmer," He interrupted. Even when she was crying, she couldn't resist giving a lecture. "Maybe you can help me get that high b or whatever. During lunch sometime?"
Rachel turned to him, and for a moment she seemed to think he was up to something . Looking for sexual favours, maybe. Well, as sweet as that would be, he kind of just wanted her to stop crying. He held her gaze and tried to look as sincere as possible.
After a moment's hesitation, she gave him that classic Rachel Berry thousand-watt smile. Without thinking, he smiled back. God, she looked good when she smiled. And when her eyes were still shining with tears... wow.
On a sudden impulse, he reached over to her. Gently, he traced her cheekbones with his thumb, wiping away the remaining tears.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Rachel's stare was shocked, frozen on him. Her mouth opened to speak, but Puck jumped up before she got the chance. He stuck his hands back in his pockets, and, unable to think clearly, shrugged again. "Don't sweat it, Berry, people like you. They just get on your case 'cause you're really annoying. No offense," he said gruffly, mirroring what he said the day they broke up. He forced himself to ignore the fresh hurt on her face as he turned away.
Walking out the room quickly, he definitely didn't think about her eyes, which looked so wounded after his comment. Eyes that looked honey brown in the light. He definitely didn't think about the new tears he saw well up in them as she looked back down to the ground. Why would he think about that? He was Puckzilla, king of the studs. He didn't have time to waste thinking about Berry's latest freak out. As he reached his truck, he shook his head. If he wasn't thinking about those things, then why were they still in his mind?
He drove home slowly, tuning out his thoughts with the radio. And yet, as he drove, he clenched his fist over and over, trying to ignore the tingling feeling that was still in his thumb, like touching her had electrocuted him.