Author's Note: For fictable prompt #44 - luck.

Puck stands outside the apartment door, staring at the number.

308

His eyes have traced the gilded numbers over and over again for the past fifteen minutes as he tries to decide if he's really going through with this or not. The consequences of his actions could ripple like a wave and end up hurting a lot of people. Or he might be the only one who gets hurt in the end but he knows, at this point, that he's pushing his luck anyway so he might as well take a chance. With the early morning hours ticking closer and closer with every second that he waits, he knows that if he doesn't act now, he never will.

He glances up at the number again and as he does, he sees a soft light come on inside the apartment. It's just a small glow, probably from the lamp she keeps next to her pristine sofa, but he knows that it means that she's awake. She should have been asleep hours ago and for a second, he feels his heart thump weirdly, like it skipped a beat, because maybe she's feeling slightly (or hopefully a whole fucking a lot) apprehensive about tomorrow.

He inhales a deep, long breath that fills his lungs and warms him from the inside out before he steps up to the door, rapping his knuckles right below the numbers. He waits and doesn't hear anything so he raps again. Finally, he sees the light blocked out through the tiny peephole so he knows she's looking out.

"Rach, it's me," he whispers loudly.

The door doesn't move.

"C'mon, Rach…please?"

The door opens a crack and he sees one big brown eye peeking out at him. "Noah, what are you doing here? It's 2am. I was sleeping."

"No you weren't. I saw the light on."

Rachel swallows. "Why are you here?" she demands again.

Puck puts a hand high on the doorframe, leaning in towards her. "Can I talk to you? Please? Five minutes and then I'll be gone."

He sees Rachel nod and then the door closes so she can undo the chain. When she pulls it open, he pushes through quickly and walks to the middle of her small living room, where he spins around on his heel and looks at her. She's in a t-shirt with a hemline that doesn't reach the top of her tiny shorts and he can see several inches of tanned, supple skin. His eyes drag over her belly button and then up to her eyes. She looks so fucking hot with her hair tussled from sleep that he almost forgets why he showed up in the first place.

"Again, I ask, why are you here?" Her voice is quiet and he can tell that she's totally uneasy.

Puck opens his mouth and a single sound eeks out before he snaps his jaw closed again. Seriously, what the fuck is he doing here? It's probably the worst idea he's ever had (and he's pretty sure some of his ideas will go down in Puckerman history as having been really fucking bad.)

Rachel crosses her arms and sets her jaw, her eyes shining in the way that Puck knows she's pissed. He better start talking.

"Are you really going through with it tomorrow?" he finally snarls.

It's Rachel's turn for her mouth to drop open and it does, hanging there as she stares him down before finally snapping an answer at him. "Are you seriously here asking me that? Of course I'm going through with it tomorrow!"

"Why?" He really needs to know the answer.

Rachel marches toward him, her bare feet making no sound as she tromps across the plush carpet. "Why am I marrying your best friend tomorrow?" He knows she punctuates the words just to remind him that he's an asshole. "Because I love him, that's why!"

Puck stares her down and feels rage building low in his belly. She doesn't love him. He fucking knows she doesn't. "That's total bullshit, Rachel, and you're shit at lying! You don't love him!"

Rachel points her finger in Puck's face and then pushes him with her other hand. "What the hell do you know about what I'm feeling? What in the world would ever give you the idea that I don't love him? Why would you even say something like that? And just hours before my wedding?" She stomps away again and goes to stand across the room, next to the small, glowing light. Her chest is heaving and Puck's not sure he's ever seen her so pissed. Good because he's pissed, too. But then he looks again and realizes that she also looks hurt. And scared.

"Why would I say that? Goddammit, Rachel. Do you think I haven't noticed how pissed off you get when I bring one of my dates around? Did you or did you not stomp out of the goddamn room last week after Darcy sat down in my lap and stuck her tongue down my throat?"

"I thought her name was Marcy," Rachel spits back.

"Like I fucking care," Puck snaps. "Her name isn't the point. The point is that you get more worked up when I'm with a girl – any girl – than you were the time that waitress slipped Finn her number right in front of you. There's something wrong with that, Rachel, don't you think?"

He sees guilt cross her face but then she yells, "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Puck stalks over to where Rachel is and wraps his fingers around her forearm. "Really, Rachel? Are you going to pretend that you don't watch me all the fucking time? Are you gonna pretend that you don't feel it, too?"

"Feel what?" she demands. Her voice is loud but he hears it crack. He knows her well enough to know that she knows she's in over her head, even if the look on her face is still one of fierce determination.

"What?" Puck laughs and rolls his eyes. "Are you serious?" He roughly lets go of her arm and then turns away from her for a minute to steady his breathing and to keep from yelling at her before he turns back and grimaces at her. "Look, Rach, you can pretend all the fucking time that it's not there…but I'm not pretending anymore. I see the way you look at me…and I know you see the way I look at you. You don't pretend to not invite my attention either, do you?" Puck's suddenly in front of her again and he places his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. "Like two goddamn nights ago, Rachel, at the club. The way you rubbed up against Finn but had your eyes on me the entire time? How 'bout when we danced? Do you think I didn't fucking notice that your nipples were hard and that your cheeks got all red whenever your stomach brushed against the zipper of my jeans? And then I started dancing with that blond chick and you got pissed and stormed outside and demanded to go home? And then when we dropped you off, you ignored me like I wasn't even fucking there. What the hell was that all about?"

Rachel pushes away from Puck and puts some distance between them again. "Fine, okay, fine, Noah. Maybe I am attracted to you but it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the fact that I've been in love with Finn since I was fifteen years old and in eleven hours, I'm going to become his wife. It's merely physical attraction I feel for you, that's all. It's nothing I can't handle and it doesn't matter really, anyway."

Puck's pretty sure that her words just socked him straight in the gut. "So that's it…that's all this is? You like to look at the guns and appreciate the body? Okay, then. Excuse my stupid ass for thinking it was more." Puck stalks toward the door and jerks it open. "Good luck tomorrow. Hope it goes off without a hitch."

For the first time since he got there, he sees her really falter. "Wh—what do you mean 'good luck'?"

Puck chortles bitterly and looks down at the floor. "I won't be there."

Rachel's head snaps up and she stares at him for a moment, her eyes wide. "You…you're not coming? You're the best man! You have to come."

"The fuck I do. This best man has the worst case of the stomach flu he's ever had. He won't be there. Kurt or Matt or…fuck, I don't care…anybody else can step in. But I'll be damned if I stand there and watch you marry him tomorrow."

Puck stares at Rachel and waits for her to speak. Now is her chance to say something and change all of this. He's given her all the power and all she has to do is speak. But when the longest seconds of his life pass and she doesn't say a word, he spins on his heel and jerks the door open. Without turning toward her, he says, "Goodbye, Rachel," and steps out into the night, pulling the door closed behind him with a pronounced slam.

He storms to his car and throws himself inside, punching the steering wheel with the open palm of his hand. Then his fingers grip it tightly and he swears into the night. That wasn't how it was supposed to have gone. He was supposed to tell her how he felt…how he's always fucking felt about her...how he feels about the fact that she's getting married tomorrow. She was supposed to understand that she meant more to him than anybody else has ever meant. She was supposed to tell him that she felt the same way.

Puck stares back up at her apartment and watches as the light flips off and her apartment goes black. All the fight leeches from him and he's left feeling defeated and sick to his stomach. He accomplished nothing and fucked up everything. He props his arm against the window and drops his hand into his palm, scrubbing it across his face. He should have known that he would fuck it up because he only had one shot and as usual, luck wasn't on his side.

He looks up at her apartment again, hoping to see some sign that she's standing just on the other side of the window like she's willing him to come back. But there's no movement and he accepts the fact that he's lost. Again.

Shoving the keys into the ignition, he turns the car on and squeals the tires as he backs out of the space. He drives down the short street and sits at the stop light, watching the light bounce in the gentle wind of the early morning. The town is nearly deserted at this hour and he's relieved that he doesn't have to deal with other assholes on the road. He just wants to drive. He doesn't care where the fuck he goes as long as it's away. Hell, by the time she walks down the aisle tomorrow and becomes "Rachel Berry-Hudson," he could be 500 miles away and already through at least a fifth. He doesn't know what he's going to tell Finn and he really doesn't care. Fuck Finn. Fuck Rachel. Fuck both of them and their happy goddamn life.

Puck's car zips through a green light and then he has to slam on the breaks as the next light changes to yellow. While he sits to let a single car go through the intersection, he flips on his stereo and lets loud, heavy rock music blare through his speakers and drown out his mind. But as he's immersing himself in the beat, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. Jerking it out, he sees that it's from Rachel. Come back, it says.

He tosses the phone into the passenger seat and pulls away quickly as the light turns green. He's not going back. There's no point in going back.

He gets a few more miles behind him and tells himself that he's already feeling better. He also knows he's lying to himself. He glances down at the seat when he sees the screen of his phone light up again. Grabbing it, he reads: Please. It's just one word but it gives him more hope than he's had for the last week or, hell, if he's honest with himself, the last six months since the "glorious" news of Finn and Rachel's engagement was announced.

Swearing, he slows down enough to make a u-turn in the middle of the deserted street and zooms back toward her apartment. He knows it's a fucking mistake but if he doesn't go back, he'll always wonder what she wanted that last night before she married his best friend and ripped the last shreds of his heart from his chest.

When he gets back to her building, he parks and then he's out of the car, bounding up the steps. Before he can even knock, she's jerking the door open. There are tears on her cheeks and her eyes are puffy. She lets out a loud sniffle as they stand there staring at each other and then she opens her mouth. "You're right."

It's only two words but it feels like a thousand. His shoulders wilt and he nearly chokes when he asks, "about what?"

"Will you come in?"

He nods and steps inside again. He watches her brush a tear from her cheek and then she bites her lip.

"What am I right about, Rachel?" He needs her to explain. Her answers are everything.

"I don't… I mean…" She runs her fingers through her hair and gathers it in her hand, lifting it away from her neck. Her shirt rises up more and Puck realizes that he shouldn't be thinking about how much he wants her right then. But then he remembers that he's always thinking about that because he always wants her. He can't remember a time when he hasn't wanted to touch her.

"It's not right, Noah," she finally says.

He doesn't say anything, just waits for her to explain herself. He sees her getting frustrated and wonders why, for the first time since he's known her, she can't seem to find the words.

"It's not right for me to feel this way about you. I'm marrying him tomorrow."

"So you admit it's more than just attraction?" he asks.

Rachel nods and gulps at the same time. Puck sees that her hands are shaking and he just wants to take her arms in his and tell her that it's going to be okay. But there's still way too much to be said and she could still stomp on his heart at any moment, so he refrains from doing anything but stand there.

"Do you love me, Noah?" she asks. Her voice is small, probably smaller than he's ever heard it and it bugs him that she even has to ask.

"Yes." He answers simply because it's the most honest he can be.

Her eyes widen and then she's crying again. Tears are pouring out of her eyes and she looks miserable. And scared. He watches her walk to the couch and drop down, her breathing heavy. She grabs a pillow and hugs it to her chest and he really doesn't know what to do. He's just told his best friend's fiancé that he loves her…what's the protocol for that kind of thing?

"I don't know what to do," she finally whispers, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Puck's suddenly by her side, his legs carrying him to her before he even notices that he's moved from the spot he'd been rooted in. He sits down next to her, his jeans scraping against her bare leg, and his arm slides around her waist.

"Do you love him?" he asks, his mouth hovering near her ear.

She shakes her head quickly and her answer is not what he expects. "No."

Suddenly, his heart is pounding and his head feels like a freight train is barreling through his cranium. He's about to fuck everything up for everybody but himself and he really can't find it in his heart to give a damn. "Do you love me?" he questions.

He waits for her to answer and watches as her head begins to move. When it bobs up and down as tears stream down her cheeks, he doesn't even care that she didn't say the words. All he knows is that she's his. He pulls her into his arms and kisses her hard, his tongue mashing against hers as he yanks her across his lap.

His hands creep into her hair and he grips her scalp. "I fucking love you, Rachel," he mutters against her lips. He feels a sense of power when the words finally leave his lips because he's wanted to say them for so goddamn long. He feels her start to sob harder against him and he tugs her tighter to his chest and then picks her up and carries her to the bedroom. When his legs bump into the edge of the bed, he drops her gently onto the mattress and leans over her, brushing her hair from her face.

"Don't cry," he says softly.

"What are we going to do?" she looks up at him and he can see that she's confused and anxious.

"We'll figure it out. We've got ten hours, after all," he offers with an easy smile.

Rachel's hand comes up and she grabs his arm, tugging him down on top of her. He presses his lips against her hard but then his mouth goes gentle and he softly kisses her, almost unbelieving that she loves him and that he might possibly win one for once. She moans against his lips and he realizes that she can feel how hard he is at that moment. And as much as he wants to fuck her senseless, he pulls away and pushes himself back to his feet. She's lying on her back, looking thoroughly aroused, and it takes every ounce of willpower he's ever mustered not to strip them both naked and bury himself inside her. He lets out a heavy sigh and sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Ten hours, Rach...we have ten hours," he reminds her. "What are we going to do?"

Rachel sits up and slides to the edge of the bed so that she's next to him, their sides pressed together. She runs her fingers along his back and then settles her arm along his waist. They're both quiet, both thinking a thousand thoughts simultaneously, when Rachel finally says, "well, we can't stay here."

Puck lets out a laugh and mutters, "no shit."

Suddenly, Rachel's standing up and grabbing her bags that were packed for the honeymoon. She roots through them, tossing random items out onto the bed, and then re-arranges the rest of the stuff. She grabs her phone charger and shoves it into the bag and then disappears into her closet. She comes back out with a pair of shorts, a shirt, and a bra and Puck watches as she pushes her pajama shorts off her hips and onto the ground. He eyes her pink lace panties and groans when she smiles at him as she shimmies her jean shorts up her legs. When she pulls her shirt over her head and she's braless, he's pretty sure his dick might explode. He's never seen Rachel naked (other than in his many, many fantasies) and she gives him a flash for two seconds before she's pulling a bra and a shirt on. She grabs a pair of flip-flops and slides them on and then looks up at Puck. "We're going to the airport."

"Okay." That sounds about as good as any other destination does to him. "And then where?" Puck asks.

Rachel shrugs and grabs his hand, pulling him up. "We'll figure it out when we get there."

She quickly wanders through her apartment, shutting off this light and that light until it's completely dark. When they walk out into the night together, Puck feels like he's starring in one of those movies where the couple is really happy and then shit gets blown up and body parts go flying everywhere. He finds himself looking around, waiting for someone to yell "gotcha, asshole" or pull a rug out from under him or something because this shit – this winning the girl shit – doesn't happen to him. At least, it hasn't happened in the 24 years he's been alive. Luck never has been on his side and he almost wonders if it's only playing a cruel trick on him now.

Puck throws Rachel's bag into his trunk and then hops into the car, starting it and then immediately pulling out of the space. He tells himself that he really just wants to get the fuck away from there but really, he knows that he's afraid she'll change her mind.

They're quiet for a few miles as they put some miles behind them and then Rachel lets out a laugh. It's just once but it's loud and it makes him smile.

"What's that for?" Puck asks.

"I feel..." Rachel pauses. "I feel so free! It's like I've removed the albatross from my neck!"

Puck merges onto the interstate toward the airport and asks, "Would you have really gone through with it tomorrow?"

Rachel bites her lip and stares at the headlights of the car in front of them. "I don't know...right before you showed up, I was sitting there contemplating my life and wondering why, instead of feeling giddy and excited about the new chapter of my life starting, I was so upset over the fact that a chapter was ending."

Puck takes his eyes from the road long enough to glance her way. "Which chapter?"

Rachel smiles and slides her hand across the console to grip his thigh. "The chapter with you as a major character. The chapter where there was a resolution on the horizon but still nothing finalized." She looks over at him and then grabs his hand and squeezes it. "I feel like I'm in one of those 'choose your own adventure' books from when we were children. And instead of choosing the adventure with the happy kid on the sunny path, I just chose the brooding kid wandering through the woods."

"It's shitloads more fun in the woods," Puck offers, grinning.

Rachel nods and says, "I don't know how I'm going to tell him. I can't just not show up. I have to call him..."

"When?"

"When we land at wherever it is that we're going," she answers.

Puck and Rachel arrive at the airport and he parks the car in long-term parking. He's got his duffel bag in his trunk since he'd already decided he wasn't showing up for the wedding even before he went to her apartment so he palms both their bags and grabs her hand. Together, they walk up to the Southwest counter and their eyes scan over the upcoming departing flights.

"Phoenix? Boise?" She reads.

"Vegas," he says quickly, his eyes landing on the flight that's departing in exactly an hour. When he looks over at her, she's smiling and her head bobs.

"Vegas sounds amazing."

"Two round-trip tickets to Las Vegas," Puck requests, pulling his credit card out of his wallet. Minutes later, their tickets are purchased and they're making their way through security. Rachel only lets go of his hand long enough to pass through the metal detectors and then she grabs it again as soon as he's through. Once they get to their gate, she wanders up to the glass window and watches as the plane taxis up to the gangway. Puck walks up behind her, pressing her body against the glass with his own, and drags his lips down her neck.

"Noah," she moans both in complaint and arousal.

"What?" he asks before his lips attach to her neck and he sucks gently.

"Stop," she squirms. "I can't handle that right now. I...I need to end things with Finn officially first."

Puck nods because yeah, he understands. He wants to fuck his girl so badly that he's practically seeing double but he's waited this long and he knows he can wait a few more hours. So he nods against her neck and then brushes his lips over her earlobe. "Okay," he whispers. "You end things with Finn and then I'll fuck you like I've wanted to for-fucking-ever."

She shudders against him and quickly turns her head to kiss him before they part. Puck drops down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and stretches his legs out. He can't wait to get out of there and get her in the air...away from Finn and the wedding and the bullshit that's been weighing them both down.

Once they board and the plane takes off, Rachel leans her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes. In minutes, she's asleep. He watches her slumber, her eyes closed and her face serene, for long enough that he starts to actually feel tired. He's been so fucking tense for so long that he's afraid his spine is going to crack but as he sits there, putting more and more airspace between them and everything else, he begins to relax. When he stops long enough to think about the fact that he's with her, he finally allows himself to fall asleep.

When they land in Vegas, they're off the plane and into a taxi in no time. It's still early and although the city is already bustling, it's nowhere near what it will be like later. They pull up in front of the MGM Grand Hotel and Puck tosses some money at the driver before they get out.

Puck checks them into a room and then finds Rachel sitting in a chair in the lobby. "Ya ready to go up?" he asks.

Rachel bites her lip and shakes her head. "I need to call Finn first."

Puck nods and is about to sit down next to her when she says, "Can you go upstairs and wait for me? I need to do this alone."

He feels a little shaky about the arrangement but agrees and hands her a key to their room. "Room 1521. I'll be waiting."

She moves her head in a barely perceptible nod and then pulls her phone from her pocket. He watches her step outside the hotel and into the daylight before he heads to the elevator.

Once he's in their room, all he can do is wait. He checks out the bathroom and makes a mental note of the Jacuzzi tub that he intends to get her into later. He looks out the window and notices that they have a pretty awesome view of the New York, New York hotel. And then he drops onto the bed to wait. And wonder. Is Finn going to talk her out of it? What if she doesn't come up to the room and instead hails a cab to take her back to the airport and back to Finn? Is she going to tell Finn that she's not getting married because she's in love with him? He feels shitty over the fact that he's lost Finn as a friend forever and the guilt sits in his gut for a minute until he realizes that he did it because of Rachel. And he knows that Rachel's not the kind of girl that anyone wants to let go of if they get the chance to have her. Honestly, he thinks that once Finn gets over being pissed (if he ever does), he might even understand.

Puck looks at the clock and he realizes that it's been fifteen minutes since he arrived in the room. Then he notices that his hands are starting to fucking shake. Just when he's ready to bolt back to the lobby, the door opens and Rachel walks inside. There are tears on her cheeks and she looks tired but she's smiling.

"It's done," she says simply. She drops her phone on the bed and tucks herself against him, sighing when his arms go around her and embrace her tightly.

"How was it?" he asks into her hair.

"Awful...exhilarating...something I never want to do again."

They stand silently for a few minutes and Puck realizes that she's not going to give him any more details than what she's already said. It's completely un-Rachel-like to not be wordy but when she's ready, he knows she'll tell him. And if he's honest with himself, he doesn't fucking care what happened or how the conversation went down. She's in his arms and not walking down some goddamn aisle with that other guy and that's all that matters.

She pulls away from him and tilts her head up, her eyes roaming over his face before meeting his. "Take me to bed, Noah. I'm yours now," she says.

So he does. Because she is.

...

Much later (after the bed and then the tub and then the bed again), they're wandering down the hot boulevard, hands locked together, when their gaze lands on A Little White Wedding Chapel. Puck looks at Rachel out of the corner of his eye and he sees that she's looking at him. At the same time, they both turn their eyes back toward at the beckoning building. Rachel swings her eyes at Puck again and lets out a chuckle that turns into a giggle and then, she's laughing so hard that she leans against him. He laughs with her, sweeps her into his arms, and kisses her roughly as his hands roam over her sides and onto her ass. When they part, they both look up at the gaudy building and roll their eyes. They're so not ready for that. But at least now, it's an option should they ever be ready. That's more than he could say 24 hours ago when he was standing outside her door, wondering what the hell he was doing but unable to stop himself from doing it just the same. As they cross the street and away from the signs that advertise a dream wedding ceremony officiated by Elvis, Puck realizes that he's got a fuckload more options than he's ever had before in his sorry excuse for a life. Knowing that it's because of the woman by his side makes him a little overwhelmed so he yanks her a little closer, drops a kiss against her temple, and then pulls her inside a casino. His luck has definitely changed for the better so he figures that it's time to see what else he can win.