A/N: Hi guys...this is my first Glee fanfic idea. It's a future-fic, starring our very own Rachel Berry and the ever handsome Noah Puckerman. Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Wish I owned Glee, but I really don't :(
...the things he did for chicks. Noah Puckerman couldn't help but scoff at himself as he stepped into the dimly lit club. Shaking his head, he sat down at one of the circular tables that could only fit two of the tiny dark stained chairs with faded red upholstry. In the relatively small venue he was situated towards the back. Since he figured he'd capitulated to her demands with little enough fuss, he damn well deserved this spot...conveniently located directly in front of the bar. He was certain that before the night was through, he would make good use of its close proximity.
The room was covered in a thick smoky haze. That was one of the many things he couldn't understand about his current fling (because he figured that after tonight's consession to her inane request and the er...benefits that came with it, he was officially done) This girl smoked like a fucking chimmney. Didn't she know that shit was bad for you? After tonight, he thought, he was through making out with an ash tray. ...an ash tray with big boobs and 'do-me' eyes...but that only got you so far. He was a stud afterall. Jessica had known that going in, and hey, what was so wrong with going out with a (literal) bang? Absolutely nothing, Puck thought, especially since he'd promised to sit, pretend to listen to her ten minute set and buy her an over-priced dinner at that new fancy ass restaurant downtown. Jazz club? Puck smirked...and Jessica singing jazz. He supposed there were worse things. At the very least he consoled himself with the fact that the game wasn't on tonight.
A man with a dark grey fedora, black button up shirt and black jeans stepped onto the stage setting up a tall wooden stool and an old fashioned mike in the middle, so that the spotlight shone directly on them. He gave a slick smile as he gazed at the audience. The room had filled up considerably, Puck noted with surprise, and realized belatedly that he was lucky he'd gotten a seat at all.
"I'm not gonna be coy and pretend I don't know why you're all here tonight," fedora man began, "but despite the presence of a star in our midst, we at The Black Cat wanted to remind you all that it is amateur night."
Though it was obvious most of the crowd was attempting to be polite, there was still an audible groan of disappointment at his words. He laughed, as though expecting the protest. "but to start the show is a little teaser for what's to come...something to get you all through an hour and a half of divas in the making. Let's give a Black Cat welcome to the star of the night, Lima's own Ms. !"
Amidst the frenzied applause, Puck found it difficult to swallow down his JD on the rocks. Time froze as she walked onto the stage, demanding ownership of it, and of their attention. She'd had his immediately. Ms. St. James? The fuck she was. He'd know those dark brown tresses anywhere...he'd run his hands through the thick, silky strands. He knew those intense, soul shattering eyes...he'd gazed into them as she focused only on him. He knew how soft and sweet her upturned lips were...he'd tasted them. Gone was the bright pink cardigan, barely there plaid skirt and knee high socks in flats. She was in a tight sheath dress, black, skimming just above the knee. Her black, patent leather stiletto pumps glistened as she crossed a leg deftly over the other as she settled on the stool. Puck's head swirled with images of what she was wearing under that skirt and cursed the fact that he wasn't any closer to the stage where he might...if she angled her legs in just the right way...find out for himself. Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, feeling the power of the song fill her lungs, letting her voice surge in a passionate ardour, leaving the audience tingling at the sound. She made him want to light himself on fire. She was Rachel fucking Berry.