This idea came from an unknown place. I just hope that, after saying that I wasn't going to write more for this pairing, I won't regret writing this (it has a lot to do with thinking I'm not doing justice to them). Let me know what you think.
Maybe be Alright
-1/3-
"Hello, is this Mr. Noah Puckerman I'm speaking to?" A young voice called once the phone of the studio had ringed.
His eyebrows knotted together in confusion. He stared at the phone, waiting for the caller to break out of character and tell him it was a joke. It was hard to recall the last time he had been called mister – probably never since he had never considered himself worthy of that formality.
"Hello?"
He shook his head and laid his clipboard next to the soundboard.
"Yes, this is him speaking."
"Oh, good," the woman replied merrily. "The reason of my call is because Miss Rachel Berry is been trying to contact you. I'm her assistant, Carol. She'd be very grateful if you'd agree to have lunch with her as soon as possible."
"Pardon?" He could not believe what he was hearing. It had been more than ten years since the last time he spoke or saw Rachel. Yes, they lived in the same city, but moved in different circles. Besides, New York was huge so there weren't high chances of them bumping into each other in the middle of the street.
"You, you're not available for lunch time?" the girl stuttered nervously, probably fearing to give bad news to her boss. God, it was just Rachel, a boss of five-foot-two that was hardly scary unless she was using big words.
"No." He rolled his eyes and leaned back on his rolling chair, massaging the temples of his head. He wasn't in the mood for more trouble after such a long day but leave it to Rachel to bring a headache. "I'd like to know her reasons for having her assistant tracking me down."
"She doesn't feel it is proper to reveal the motive of her search over the phone, sir."
Sir? Was he an old man already? He surely felt like one. But it was probably because of his issues about growing up. At sixteen he slept with thirty-year-old women and now, at thirty-three, he slept with girls just fresh out of college.
Curiosity got the best of him. It wasn't like he owed it to Rachel or anything but he was curious, not only because she was reaching for him but because he had seen her on stage at Broadway two or three times, and watch a couple of her movies. She was making a great career and only thrived for more; like always.
And a more powerful reason was that this was Rachel and she never gave up easily.
"Tomorrow. One. Tell her not to be late because I have an appointment at three."
"Mister Puckerman, I must remind you that Miss Berry is a very busy woman that-"
"You think I'm not a busy man?"
"I, I didn't mean that, sir. My apologies if I have offended you." She was nervous and, fuck, he loved it. If he ever got an assistant, he would make them squirm with fear.
"Look, I have things to do, so if this was all, thank you. Send Rachel my regards."
"No! Sir? Please. Tomorrow at one sounds perfect. I'll make reservations at Blue Hill under Miss Berry's name. She'll be very pleased to see you."
"Yeah?" He scoffed. "I'm not sure about that."
The only thing he was sure about was that never in a million years he would've picked Blue Hill to have lunch as an everyday event because it was more than a little pricey for his taste and his wallet.
It was later, when he was sharing a couple of beers with some of the guys from the studio, at a bar nearby, that he let his mind wander. What could be the reason Rachel had to look for him? There was no friendship left between them. All those bridges they had crafted during high school had been burned by the both of them. He knew he hadn't tried to keep her close once she pulled away; he was a brat, so angry at her for leaving him alone but so glad she hadn't asked for explanations. When he wanted to be with her, it was too late, there was nothing of their friendship left.
What could it be she wanted with him?
…
At the table was a gorgeous woman. The chocolate brown hair was glossy and perfectly placed around her shoulders. Her dress, even if casual, was obviously more expensive than his entire outfit, including watch and aviators. He definitely felt out of place and the maître d made it quite clear when, after saying her name, he eyed him up and down, distaste written all over his face.
For the first time in his life, he cursed on his compulsory need of wearing jeans, even if dark and somewhat new. His motorcycle boots were probably frowned upon, as well. And the leather jacket was very cool but not very fashionable.
When she stood up, he noticed that those legs he spent so many nights of high school dreaming about were just as tantalizing as always. Her smile was brighter than he remembered, if that was possible, and she had become a woman worthy of all the praise she got for her looks in the media. Men drooled for her and yet, every time they spoke her name, he was reminded of the annoying girl he had met at synagogue when they were eight.
"Noah," she breathed out softly before opening her arms to hug him. And who was him to refuse her.
She was just like he remembered. Soft and fragile in his arms, she smelled like fresh and succulent summer fruits and sunshine – ridiculous, he knew.
Her arms wrapped around him, squeezing him gently.
"Rach," he called quietly before letting her go.
She smiled warmly before letting the waiter help her to sit back on her chair. "Wow, you look so," she trailed off and he guessed she was trying to be polite. He didn't need her to sugarcoat it for him.
"The same?"
She chuckled. "No! Oh, God, no!" She leaned her elbows over the table, twining her fingers together and placing her chin over them. She was studying him. "Well, you might seem the same on the outside, except that line on your forehead."
He kinked his eyebrow and she laughed.
"That! You're the same flirt."
"Some things never change." Like how absolutely irresistible she was when she was being this adorable, batting her eyelashes and shooting coy looks while smiling. "You look… great."
"Thank you. I've discovered a whole new side of me each time I reprise a new role. It's what has kept sane in this business."
"This is not an interview, Rachel."
She ticked her head to the side. "You're more mature, I believe. And bigger."
"Fatter?"
"Noah!" she chastised him. "Your arms are lovely as ever," she provided flirtatiously.
"And your legs are…" He refrained himself from making a crude comment and just hummed with delight, making her laugh so hard she snorted. And when she did, she blushed.
"You're incorrigible."
It was at that moment than the waiter approached and he asked her, "You think they have beer here?"
She suddenly sobered up and lifted her head to look directly at the waiter. "Bring us a bottle of wine. I believe we'll need it."
He frowned. Puck doubted the wine would be to share good times, especially because this was midday and lunch dates meant business.
…
They were already sharing the main dish that for him seemed like a joke considering the size of the food. He was all about super-sized food for his super-hot body. A gym membership was put to good use so it wasn't like he sat on his ass all day long; he burned the calories of a hamburger many times a day. Besides he burned even more calories in bed when he had delightful company. A beautiful stick of celery didn't do it for him.
"Quit stalling," he muttered once he had wolfed down his food and Rachel was midway through hers. "I'm starting to freak out here. I was hoping you could just tell me since I doubt you looked for me only to find out what I've been doing the last ten years. Do you mind telling me what the hell is wrong?"
She sighed and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. It was clear she was taking her time to clear her mind, to use the right words and to decide her final approach.
"You're right." She smiled but it wasn't that sweet and flirty smile. It was sad and troubled. "At first, I thought you didn't have the need to know about what I'm going to say. But then I realized that you might be the only one who could be of assistance."
"What's wrong?" He swallowed the lump in his throat. Through his mind, thousands of terrible things went by. He thought the worst and realized that despite everything that had happened between them, he cared.
"Many years ago, I met Shelby again, as she was a member of the backup singers in a musical I was working at the time. We didn't exactly become friends but it was clear for me that she would always be an important part of my life, whether I liked it or not, so we grew closer and with that I became involved with Beth's life too."
"You're scaring me, Berry."
"I know she emails you from time to time." She grinned at him, reaching for his fists over the table, covering them with her soft hands, trying to ease his tension.
"She hasn't lately. I've tried to contact her but… she hasn't replied in over three months."
"I know."
"Something happened to Beth." It wasn't a question. It was clear what she wanted to say.
She took a deep breath and her eyes welled with tears. "She ran away from home and she's living with me now."
"Why?" He was insistent but pulled away from her touch because he felt too vulnerable. Family was the only thing that made him feel like that.
"She fought with Shelby and, you know her. My… Shelby," she decided not to address the woman as anything close to her, even if she still felt obviously conflicted regarding their history. "She's not known for sticking around during hard times. And Beth, she's yours," she squeaked before tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath for strength and smiled. "She's very tough and resolute."
He looked away. He didn't like where this was going. "Why hasn't she told me? I could've helped her. Or tried. I love her, she knows that. Why? What happened? Is she doing well at school? She's really smart."
"There's no easy way to say this." Rachel licked her lips and waited for him to look at her in the eye. "She is very smart. She wants to be an engineer or a math teacher, can you believe that?" She laughed behind her tears. "She's only a year away from college and I bet she's going to do great."
He grinned and nodded. "She makes me proud."
"Then I hope that you won't be disappointed for what I'm about to say because she's very scared. She doesn't dare to tell you this, which is why I am here. She asked me to talk to you."
"Rach, just fucking tell me."
"Noah," she swallowed hard. "Beth is pregnant."
