Author's Note: Someone left a review for my St. Berry story (Not Perfect, in the Jesse/Rachel archives now) telling me to rewrite "Funk" my way. But how can I? "Funk" is amazing the way it is, even with the bitter egging of Rachel, mostly because Puck jumped so readily to her defense, and looked so hot during Give Up the Funk.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to RM. Yeah... I don't even know what I'd do if I owned Glee. Probably would make St. Puckleberry a reality.
The song is originally by Avril Lavigne, but I prefer the Glee version, for obvious reasons.
Keep Holding On
Rachel was gone for thirty minutes when a concerned Mr. Schue asked if anyone had seen her. As always, Kurt had disinterestedly offered that he had last seen her leaving for the parking lot, and he offered to go find her, to which Mr. Schue nodded and thanked him.
Finn glared at him and said that he could go and bring Rachel to practice, but he was already out of the door, seething at his former best friend's actions. Finn couldn't seem to make up his mind – he wanted Rachel when he couldn't have her, but he'd break up with her and hurt her heart when he did. And that, more than anything, made Puck pissed, because Rachel deserved to be happy, to be adored, to be cherished.
(And, yeah, he didn't like St. Jerk either, for obvious reasons, but, despite everyone believing he was using Rachel, he made her happy and treated her decently, so he was willing to look the other way. For now. Because no way the dude wouldn't fuck up).
It turned out that, fuck up St. Jerk did. And royally.
Puck found Rachel standing in the middle of the parking lot, still and stiff, looking at the empty wide space. "Yo, B!" He called out, strolling toward her, but she didn't reply. In fact, she didn't react at all to him. Odd, he thought, and hurried towards her. "Berry! C'mon, we have Glee practice!" He said again, but to no avail. Rachel didn't move. Panicking, he rushed to her side. "Babe? C'mon, you're…"
The rest of the sentence died on his lips, however, when he noticed the state she was in. Egg yolk and white slowly dripped down her face, her clothes were covered in egg, and egg shells stuck to her long, soft ebony-colored hair. She looked without seeing at an empty spot of the parking lots, eyes glassy with tears. "Holy fuck, baby, what happened?" He asked, panicking as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She shuddered violently and looked at him.
"Noah?" She asked, confusion filtering through the blank mask on her face.
"Yeah, baby, it's me, c'mon…" He began tugging her towards the school building, and she slowly followed him, silent and shocked, as he was rapidly processing what happened. He made a quick stop at her locker, breaking in it easily to find the change of clothes he knew she still kept within. He also found the small bag that he knew contained a small bottle of her shampoo, conditioner and liquid soap and picked it as well, slamming the locker close and all but carrying her to the locker room.
"Noah?" She asked again, shivering. She blinked slowly, and her eyes focused on him. "Where are we going?"
"Locker room, baby… You have to take a shower, okay? I won't even steal a peek, I swear…" He walked in the locker room, which was thankfully empty, and sat her down on a bench. She blinked and nodded, slowly, and rose to her feet, undressing quickly and uncaring of his presence, throwing the egged clothes on a small pile on the floor. He deliberately turned his back on her before she could take off her white undershirt and busied himself with texting Santana. R egged. Helping her with it. Later.
He heard the shower being turned on, heard her step under it, and tried very, very hard to keep his thoughts from going to the gutter. But, him being him, and her being a hot Jew whose pants he still wanted in, he couldn't help but think that Rachel Berry was naked and wet and slippery a few feet away.
And then he heard.
She was crying. Not the loud, dramatic sobs anyone would've expected her to let out – but the quiet, heartbroken kind, the kind that only happened when she was truly devastated. He bolted to the stall where she was in, and stepped in it with her, picking her in his arms and holding her. "Don't cry, baby…" He whispered, turning off the shower before both drowned. She clung to him, tears trailing down her cheeks, and snuggled against him, shaking with her sobs. "Who did this to you, Rach?" He asked quietly.
But she didn't reply, instead she only cried harder. Panicking, he began humming softly the first song that came to mind, arms wrapped firmly around her small body.
You're not alone, together we stand
I'll be by your side, you know I'll take your hand
When it's cold, and it feels like the end
There's no place to go – you know I won't give in
No I won't give in
Keep holding on
Cause you know we'll make it through
We'll make it through
Just stand strong
Cause you know I'm here for you
Here for you
There's nothing you can say
Nothing you can do
There's no other way when it comes to the truth
Keep holding on
Cause you know we'll make it through
Make it through.
She stopped shaking and shivering, her hear resting against the curve of his neck, and once he was done singing, she kissed his jaw. "Thank you, Noah", she whispered, and blushed deeply. "Can you… Can you please leave? I'd like to shower now".
"Sure, babe", he pointedly avoided looking at her (gloriously, wet, slippery, soft) nude body and walked to his locker to find dry clothes for himself. "I'll just go get changed, kay? Call if you need anything".
"Okay", she said softly. "Noah?"
"Yeah, babe?"
"Thanks. For helping".
"No problem, babe".
