uhhh. an angsty little idea that wouldn't leave me be.
i'm not exactly a doctor so i'm sure there's some medical information that's incorrect but i tried my best when it came to this subject.
a/u obviously.
let's hear what you guys think about this one... ?
Okay, so maybe Puck wasn't exactly known for his honesty but here's the thing - he didn't appreciate pity in any form. He learns this at an early age. Gossip spreads quickly in a small town and a dad ditching his pregnant wife and son? That's definitely pity-worthy gossip.
Which he doesn't appreciate. Anyone who even looked at him with one shred of sympathy was shut the fuck down.
To be honest, that's what starts the Rachel Berry slushie fiasco. At one point in their lives they were friends. Again, small town- even smaller jewish community. It couldn't be avoided. All it took was a conversation at his locker. She tried to sympathize with him with those big, brown eyes. Worst part?
There was a teeny, tiny part that wanted to give in. He was so tired of being tough and badass. And that thought? It's terrifying. So impulse took over. Like a caged animal he reacted by attacking, flicked his wrist and drowned her pity in red ice.
Safe to say they lost touch after that.
So when Santana is sitting there with her wide eyes and endless scrutiny of his now-shaved head, he lies. Puck says what he had wanted to hear - that everything was fine, that they shaved his 'hawk (RIP to that badass look) for absolute bullshit.
But it's a lie.
Turns out all those summers spent poolside weren't exactly beneficial in the long run. That mole of his? It's not exactly as innocent as he wanted everyone to believe. In fact it's the warning sign that his skin is weak, the sun is a bitch, and that cancer? It preys on the young too.
Yeah, he's got melanoma and the fear that word inspires? Way more than he could ever conjure up.
Everyone is feeling pretty positive about his prognosis and the treatment sounds simple enough. A relatively painless surgery, chemotherapy, and plenty of drugs. But when the big C is involved there's never a guarntee which bothers him. He likes sure things like getting into Santana's spanx is a sure thing, his football team losing is a definite thing.
Him living? He can't say that's a sure thing.
The only thing more frustrating than living in a town named after a bean is living in a town that's named after a bean and only has one temple.
Surprisingly there are things worse such as - his mom's inability to shut the hell up. Yeah, he gets that the woman who bore him is worried and concerned or whatever but seriously? Informing the vast majority of the jewish community? Not exactly what he needs, thanks ma.
Oh, it gets better. Of all the goddamn jews to walk in, to overhear, it had to be her.
It's not like Rachel is the bane of his existence. In fact, he's had more than one fantasy of her being the princess to his Mario because she's constantly involved in some sort of scandal (that girl is a magnet for trouble, swear) and he finds himself fighting to get her out of it.
Or maybe the roles are reversed? Whatever. He likes his fantasy better, less clothes there.
Anyway, so Rachel finds out that maybe Puck hasn't been entirely truthful with his classmates. Know what it is more fucked up than this town, his mom, and her eavesdropping?
The fact that she's upset that he didn't think to share this information with the rest of glee. For fucks sake. He's got cancer and she's all up in arms over the fact that he didn't fess up?
Honestly, he expected tears or hugs or ... you know, 'I'm sorry you have cancer, let me be the last lay of your life' sex. But none of that happens. Instead he gets the cold shoulder and glares. The fuck? Like it's his fault the sun hates him. Clearly it was jealous. Who wouldn't be?
When it's all over and they can escape to their cars he grabs her by the wrist and pulls her away from the doors.
"You can't tell anyone."
That's all he says. There's not even a threat to his tone or anything. Who says he can't be nice?
"What do you mean I can't tell anyone? Your friends deserve to know. They all have a right to know, Noah."
Puck idly rubs the back of his head and tries not to frown at the loss of texture beneath his fingers- it just doesn't feel right without the 'hawk. "Look, Berry. For the most part I stay out of your business so stay the fuck out of mine. You've done enough damage by telling secrets that weren't yours, don't you think?"
Rachel wants to argue this. He can tell. It's that look on her face and the darkening of her complexion and the steam he swears is coming from her ears. "I've already apologized for that scandal and my mishap in becoming involved in your affairs but Noah, this is even bigger than that. There's more at risk here."
"What? You guys can't go to Regionals if I kick the bucket?"
A breath is inhaled between her clenched teeth and he just watches her. "You know what I mean."
And he does, but it's a truth he doesn't want to acknowledge. Besides, he's not exactly the golden boy of the class and he has this nagging feeling that some people would think of this as justice served. Sometimes he does.
"Rachel, I'm asking you not to mention this to anyone. There's no need to get everyones panties in a twist so chillax."
Both of her brows knit together and her nose wrinkles. Yup, more steam is coming out of her ears. "Really? Must you be so nonchalant about this?"
Puck just stares at her and then pulls her even further away from the casual passerby. "Yup," he says after a pause, finally glancing away. "What else can be done? No point in getting upset. It'll just make things worse."
Rachel doesn't really have a reply to that. She's all for the new-age 'think yourself better' mentality but this is Noah, a guy she's known since they were little. They're both just standing there looking at one another while she wills her eyes not to water.
He might have been okay with it but she wasn't.
The first sign of tears? That has him heaving a sigh. There's no way in hell he wants to deal with this - especially right now. Today just isn't the day to tolerate Berry's crazy. Nuh-uh, ain't happening.
But then she does this little sniffle and it draws a groan from deep in his throat. Damn this girl!
Puck isn't one for hugs. He's not. He doesn't like giving them out and they make him feel awkward. So he does the next best thing, he gives her shoulder a few light pats. This was supposed to be encouraging.
That laugh of hers? It's low and wet, mostly unnerving. They say nothing for a long moment.
"I won't tell anyone."
Puck releases a breath he hadn't realized he held.
It was her sympathy that tore their friendship apart to begin with, but it seems it was that very same thing that was mending it this time around.
Oh irony, what a bitch.
Puck swears he will never skip a class again because he's sitting there in the doctor's office with his mom and he does not understand a single thing being said. He catches a few key words.
Metastasis.
That sounds like the prequel to Predators. Not exactly promising.
Then they start talking about his lymphatic system and now he's really lost. What exactly is that? He swears he's heard Rachel mention lymph nodes or whatever but it's not like he ever really pays attention to any of that.
His mom is gripping his hand so tight he thinks she's going to break fingers. Hours in the gym couldn't give him the vice grip this lady has, swear.
The doctor asks Puck to open his mouth and he presses his hard, gloved fingers against the outside of his throat and sticks that popsicle-looking thing in his mouth, holds his tongue flat while he shines a light into his mouth.
Did he brush his teeth this morning? He hopes so otherwise this doc is gonna hate him.
Once again his mom and the doctor are babbling and oddly he wishes Rachel was here. She would probably understand the gist of the conversation and explain it to him because he's at a loss. Seriously.
It takes a few blinks for him to realize they're both quiet and peering intently at him. He just stares back. What? He's a badass. Even doctors don't scare him.
But they do win staring contests because Puck diverts his gaze and looks elsewhere, still waiting. That's all he's been doing since he was given the bad news.
"Do you understand that Mr. Puckerman? Melanoma in any stage is a serious disease. We were lucky enough to catch yours during the early stages. The tumor is still thin and your tonsils show no sign of being enflammed. We won't have to remove them yet providing we're able to remove all the cancerous cells from your body."
One of his shoulders start to rise but then he sags back against the bed that has been propped up for his 'comfort'. Yeah right, like that was possible in a white, sterile, creepy room.
"The procedure is a simple one. The best way to explain would be...," the doctors lips purse because there is no 'best way' to explain something like this. "A cookie cutter. What we're going to do is punch a circle around the mole and remove it that way. Barring any further complications that will be the only surgery and the mole will be removed. Your hair can return to its previous state."
Puck manages to free his hand from his mom's grasp and runs it back through his hair. Should he get the 'hawk back? Inspire fear and terror in the halls of McKinely once more?
"As a precaution your mom and I have agreed to start you on a trial of chemotherapy. We'll be adminstering this by mouth since your tumor is so close to your tonsils and thymus. Unfortunately, this process also destroys the healthy, normal cells in the process and leave you prone to infection or blood loss. So until we're able to clear this up you're going to have to give up sports- especially contact ones."
That letterman jacket of his is starting to feel heavy and uncomfortable. It's no longer a sign of what he reps at the school but what he can't belong in. How does he explain that to the team? They suck enough without him.
But what can he do? All he does is nod and his mom has tears in her eyes again because she had hopes of him scoring some sort of sports scholarship or some shit. Now she's just praying that this is going to go according to plan. So is he, really. Hard to plan a future when he's nervous (don't tell anyone) about the present.
He gets the gist of the conversation and after several medical pamphlets and bulletins later (he almost expects a slide show and pie graphs - too much time 'round Berry) he's finally discharged and on his merry way.
It's only because he needs to pass english that he calls Rachel. It's not because he's scared.
Okay, maybe a little.
Puck is tired. Like he feels like he's hungover, just survived a beating, and one of Rachel's impromptu dancing lessons for some big number they're working on.
Sure, this was one of the things they listed as a symptom of his treatment but he hadn't paid that much attention. Since when was that anything new?
What was new was the worried faces that were suddenly around him in Glee practice that afternoon. What the hell?
"Dude, you're drooling everywhere." Finn states plainly.
Kurt is quick to offer tissues while Santana looks disgusted. Matt and Mike are watching him because they don't know what the heck is going on anymore.
It's a bit of a struggle but he manages to sit up. Of course he doesn't take the tissues, he just uses the sleeve of his shirt and attempts a glare at all the worried faces.
He fucking hates sympathy, dammit.
And what's even more surprising? Rachel isn't around. Not anywhere to be seen. He knows she was here because he couldn't escape that voice even during his REM cycle. Honest to fuck. It's that penetrating.
"Where's crazy?" he asks after a yawn and languid stretch.
No one had noticed her abrupt departure it seemed because now there's blank looks being cast to one another. They all look to Mr. Schue expectantly as though he'll have the answers but for once he doesn't.
That's how Puck ends up leaving the room with a stern 'Shuddup, I'm fine' and a casual shrug. The first place he checks is the girls bathroom but he doesn't find her there.
So next he tries the spanish classroom because that's where Schue would normally be so it's like this, haven or some lame shit. That's where he finds her. She's at the teacher's desk with her head buried on her arms.
Even from the doorway he can tell that her shoulders are shaking. Is she crying?
This is awkward. Like, he wants to bolt. Any other time and he would have but he's tired okay? That is the only reason. He sits on the edge of the desk and kicks the wheel of the chair so that she starts to roll towards the chalk board.
It forces her to sit up and he kind of wishes he hadn't done that because she looks a little scary. See, she's always got these big eyes but now they're all watery and blood-shot and he's pretty sure those are Jason Vorhees' eyes. Legit. Her makeup is smeared and her hair is matted to the sides of her face, all sticky and damp.
That? It's the furthest thing from attractive that he's ever seen. Seriously. And yeah, it crosses his mind that he should just cut his losses, spare his dick and run, but he doesn't. He lets them both suffer in the silence for a long moment while he processes this.
"What's wrong?"
Rachel laughs but it's all wrong. Bitter. It makes his throat constrict with an emotion that he's not proud to be having. Was a side effect chemo going crazy? Because he's pretty sure that's what is happening now.
"Everything."
Leave it to Rachel to make a scene out of nothing. "B, if this is about my nap, I was just tired. Between school and being a badass, I'm just tired. That's all."
Neither one of them believes that lie and she chokes down another laugh that lacks her usual charm. "You slept through most of your classes for the past week."
That he can shrug off, "That's nothing out of the ordinary."
"You don't play sports anymore. You still have that bruise on your arm from where Finn punched you out of some misguided attempt at male bonding. Why men insist on violence to show their feelings I'll never know."
"He was congratulating me, babe. We don't do this touchy-feely emotion shit you're trying to drag me into."
Rachel narrows her eyes. Oh shit. There's a sharp pencil near her. Is he a goner? That look in her eyes says so. Subtly, he inches away.
"Why are you like this? Why don't you let anyone help or tell someone so we can support you?"
Puck snorts. Fuck being subtle. Now he's off the desk and marching towards the door. They've been round and round over this and each time they both agree that it is his situation, his business, his goddamn body.
"Why do you keep pressing this Rachel? It's none of their business. Fuck, it's none of yours! And still, you keep insisting and being so typical Berry over this that it just makes me even more sick."
That may have been crossing a line. He's not entirely sure. Frankly, he doesn't even know if he cares. What he decides to do should be his decision.
There's no sounds coming from the desk so he just keeps walking. It doesn't take long for the sound of her footsteps to follow and they walk in silence, back into the choir room. No one says a word. Probably because Puck looks furious and Rachel looks homicidal.
Safe to say if he had a slushie? He'd toss that shit all over her. No regrets.
None.
Turns out that Puck does have a few regrets and they all come to him while he's in a goddamn hospital room. Those cliche scenes on that Greys Anatomy shit Quinn loves? Turns out they're a little more like reality than he had thought.
Of all the things to take down the Puckerone? An infection via a paper cut. He swears if anyone finds out about this, he will lose his shit.
And that's when someone knocks on the door. Consider his shit lost when that goddamn club starts walking (rolling in Artie's case) through the door with flowers and footballs and cards and fucking tears.
What the hell? He did not sign up for this hallmark moment. Refund, please.
They're all gathered around his bed and watching him, the monitors he's hooked up to and all the wires and tubes. All this over a cut. It's a little unnerving but what can he say? If he's going to do something - he goes all out.
It starts awkard. Like, no one knows what to say so he breaks it up with a, "If anyone starts with some 80's rap I'm going to puke."
That may have been directed towards Schue who always seemed to base his lessons on old rap songs. Eventually the tension seems to ease and laughter is actually in the room.
This feeling isn't so horrible, Puck thinks. It could be worse. But through all the conversation he manages to notice one thing - she's not here.
"Where's Berry?"
Finn looks guilty and shoves his hands in his pockets. "She's not coming today."
Puck's stomach rolls but he chalks it up to a symptom and not regrets. "Why?"
Again, Hudson isn't looking directly at him. His eyes never stray from the window. "Something to do with her dads, I guess."
The rest of the members are exhanging looks but no one bothers to say anything. Puck does not like being left out. Fuck that noise.
"What happened? And you can't lie to a guy who is laying in a hospital bed. God will like, smite you."
Artie drops his hands in his lap and stares at Puck, "How come you only told Rachel?"
Puck snorts around the thin tubes in his nose, eyes rolling. "Yeah, like I chose Berry of all people. She happened to hear it through the Jewish grapevine. Our noses aren't just for show - they sniff out gossip, for real."
No one else brings up Rachel and eventually the subject is dropped. When the burly nurse comes to the door, she demands that everyone leave. Puck manages to snag Tina's arm before the girl could escape. "Give her a message for me?"
Puck doesn't say her name because he's pretty sure that Tina knows who he means. So the girl just nods.
"Tell her to bring me a grape slushie."
He's in the hospital for a week.
A slushie-free week.
Puck doesn't search for her after that. In fact, things pretty much go to normal following his extended stay in the general hospital of Lima. His secret, his condition, the news of it is confined to the members of Glee.
They spread some story that Puck is off robbing a train, or a castle, or in the Hamptons with some cougar. Sadly, people buy into these things because they're really not that far off from what they know of Puck.
Anyway, he basks in the attention and when the next jock punches him on the arm it doesn't bruise. That's a positive sign, he thinks.
Oddly he wants to show this improvement to Rachel but that girl is scarce. Doesn't even show up for glee practices. No one expects her to which really, really bothers Puck. What had he missed?
He's collecting his missed assignments from Schue when he spots her brunette hair. It takes a second for his muscles to unwind. And another for him to breathe again.
He's livid. No, seriously. He's never been this angry. Not even at Quinn, at their situation, or at his condition. Fuck, nothing has caused him to tremble from rage and frankly, he doesn't know why.
From the start he had said he didn't want sympathy or pity or anything she had to offer. Except he had come to like, depend on her. Or whatever. They fought, they made up, and they just ... existed.
Lately, she hadn't bothered to keep up with her end of all this. Fuck, she hadn't even come to visit him in the hospital that entire week and he knows that she knows he asked for her. He basically begged Tina to tell him what happened after she passed on the first message.
The second.
The fifth.
Each time, Tina reported, that Rachel had simply dismissed it with pursed lips and wide eyes followed by an expected, dramatic exit.
Puck doesn't stay to listen to Schue talk about conjugating verbs or whatever. He dashes out of the room and follows after her, "Hey! Crazy!"
When she pauses, he knows that any minute she's going to whirl around and lay into him for calling her crazy but hey, if the straitjacket fits, right?
But she doesn't do that. She continues to walk for the door and he's frowning. This is the first (and last, he swears!) time that he's actually running after a girl. It's supposed to be the other way around.
"I'm talking to you."
Nothing.
"Berry! For fucks sake."
Not a word. If anything, she's out the door and towards her car in record timing.
He's faster. "Rachel!"
This gives her reason to pause because he almost sounds like he's desperate. That's unusual. He chooses to ignore it.
"Why the fuck are you ignoring me? I'm not fucking contagious."
Rachel doesn't appreciate his profanities if that frown she shoots him is anything to go by. At least she's stopped and is looking at him. Finally.
"I know that, Noah," she snaps back at him, "I'm just late for my dance class and I really don't have time to argue with you today."
"Or any other day. You didn't come to visit me or answer my calls or texts. What the hell?"
Now she's determined to avoid his gaze. She starts to dig in her purse for her car keys, searching with frantic jerks and shakes. "I'm sorry about that but I was busy and recieving updates pertaining to your condition from your fellow classmates."
He grabs both her arms to keep her from looking. Shock causes her to look up at him. "Why didn't you come?"
Rachel shakes her head. "You don't want the answer to that."
She's tiny. He knows this already, but he's never really paid much attention to it. Guess that explains why one forty-four ounce cup manages to soak her entirely. "Yeah, I do. Just tell me."
The sigh she responds with is bigger than she is, "I was scared."
Her skin is too hot to touch so he starts to release his grasp, but his fingertips linger as they tingle from the nearness of her flesh. It's been awhile, okay?
"You're scared of hospitals?"
Rachel stomps her foot which, under other circumstances, would be adorable. But now it just seems to be the thunder. He's keeping an eye out for lightning. Berry storms are known to be unpredictable.
"No. It wasn't the hospital I was afraid of. I was scared of what could have happened. Of what might have happened to- well, to you."
Puck takes a second to digest this and drops all contact. They're not touching anymore. In fact, he's flirting with the idea of ditching her. Not like she's not used to it by now, and if she's not? Well, he'll help her out with that.
But his feet don't move because he's been there, he's still there. "So was I," he manages to whisper eventually. It's the quietest he's ever been.
All Rachel does is nod like the little know-it-all she is. "I know."
His eyebrow arches and he dares her to continue with that single gesture so she does. "Noah, contrary to what you may believe, I'm not oblivious to your fears and concerns. Try as you may to hide them, I've known you too long to believe for a second that this doesn't rattle you."
That anger he felt earlier? It's starting to rise up again. Not because he disagrees but because he's just that uncomfortable. He's being cornered again. He can feel it.
Rachel must have a sense for this by now because she takes a step back. Just one step. "In light of your current state I've decided to use this as a learning oppurtunity." Of course she did. What didn't Rachel turn into some sort of twisted lesson?
While he's rolling his eyes she's managed to take another step closer. Oh yeah, he's definitely starting to feel blocked in. How could someone so tiny be intimidating?
Probably because she's nuts and he's never quite been able to erase the image of her face in the classroom that day. She looked utterly destroyed. A look that no slushie or pornographic cartoon on a bathroom stall could conjure.
It's one of those things that he regrets that day, in the hospital. Just one.
She's talking again and he's staring, debating running but that would look all kinds of bad. "Life is short. It's so very short. Something so small, so unobtrusive can take it all away. A lesson I'm sure you're familiar with. I'm not going to wake up today or tomorrow or ten years from now and regret anything otherwise what is the point in living?"
Puck doesn't know where she's going with this philisophy crap so he cringes, but manages a nod.
Rachel is still talking. Shocker (not). "I'm tired of being afraid or of being scared so I'm just going to come clean. When you were in the hospital all I could think about was losing you which is an odd sensation because I never had you. But I want to. I want you and your vulgarities and profanities. I want you healthy and playing football and dragging me to games. I want you to call me crazy. I want all these things because it means you're here and that you want them too."
Yeah, he's given her a few looks that spoke volumes of what he thought of her - mostly along the lines of, 'dayum, you're crazy' but the look he has now? Even he can't decipher it.
Screw crazy. She's nuts. She's ...
He doesn't fucking know. This girl drives him crazy, like jam a pencil into his ear drums crazy.
But she was there. From the start and she's still standing down. He's hit her a few times with some hooks he thought were knockouts - slushies, babygates, cancer. And she's still standing.
Is she tougher than him?
"Rach, I-"
"You don't have to say anything yet. It's a lot to digest I realize because we're so different but I owed it to myself to let you know that. If I never try then I can't get upset when nothings changed. So this is me trying."
Puck likes that she's trying and she seems sincere but...
He doesn't have a clue what to say.
Most people would have had epihanies as a result of this life-altering diagnosis but him? That skull of his is thick. Obviously.
But she's making so much sense. Yup, he's crazy. At least this way he has a partner in crime.
Besides, he's never been one to turn down a woman. Not even when they're proposing some crazy type shit. And this? This is absolute insanity at its finest. His first instinct isn't to say no.
It's actually to avoid talking altogether so he just grabs her. "They didn't give me a lobotomy or anything so I'm probably going to suck at this."
"You won't."
He doesn't bother to correct her. "And you're going to have to play Mario."
"What is that?"
He thinks his eye just twitched but he's determined to get through this. "Listen, you're a bucket of crazy. You're the grand canyon of crazy. But that's okay. It's all okay because you're pretty hot and you have put up with my shit for so long. Just do me a favor?"
Rachel just blinks while she tries to learn how to breathe because this wasn't exactly what she expected. Dreamed of, yes, but not in realistic terms.
"Don't tell my mother yet." She laughs and he shakes his head, "No seriously. This is like some lifetime movie shit that she watches. She's going to lose it."
He is almost pleading but she's all too happy to drop the subject entirely and bring up another topic that just involves lips and tongues, something he's all for.
So maybe he doesn't appreciate her pity but he may be okay with it. Just a little bit. Especially if it leads to make out sessions and a boyfriend label that doesn't make him want to light himself on fire (most days).
Loving Rachel Berry?
That's one of those sure things, unfuckingfortunately. Okay, maybe fortunately.
Shut up.