Disclamier: Dont own Glee, never have, never will. I do however own an imagination, and while slightly perverted occasionally (always), it allows me to keep on writing my crappy stories and shall do for years to come.
I honestly do not remember where my idea for this came from. I think it just kind of materialised one day. And I dont know how old Puck and Rachel are in this story -just imagine them to be somewhere between 6 and 9 and you should be all good. :)
"Noah, wait for me, I can't run that fast!"
"It's not my fault you're a slowpoke, Rachie, you just gotta run faster!"
Rachel stops in the middle of the garden, chest heaving and breath coming out in short puffs. She leans down, hands on her legs as she tried to catch her breath. "Noah, STOP!" she yells out. Noah groans in the distance, and halts to a stop, crossing his arms and looking back at Rachel, glaring at her.
"This sucks. Races aren't fun if you don't run fast."
Rachel walks up to him, pouting. "If I'm too slow, then why don't you go play with Finn?"
"Nah," he says. "Don't wanna play with Finn today. Rather you."
Noah falls back onto the ground, spreading his legs apart and placing his arms behind his head, ignoring the ever-growing smile on Rachel's face. Rachel sits down gingerly next to him, smoothing down her skirt. He turns to look at her face, and quickly looks away when she catches him staring.
They'd been playing races since his mum had dropped him off half an hour ago, with clear instructions to be nice to Rachel while she pops into work for a few hours and there'll be hell to pay if you glue her hair together like you did to your poor sister. He definitely didn't want to spend the whole time he was at the Berry's doing something stupid and boring, like watching Disney movies. Last time he was here, Rachel had made him sit through three and a half of them before his mum came. If he's made to watch Beauty and the Beast one more time, there's going to be hell to pay.
"This is boring. I wanna do somethin'"
Rachel furrows her brow, and looks back at her house. "We could play dollhouse or Barbies –oh, my daddy bought me a new Swan Lake Barbie last week, she's so pretty –"
"BORING. I said something fun. Barbies aren't fun. Barbies suck."
Rachel scowls. "Barbies most definitely do not suck." Noah groans again, and she asks, "What do you want to do then?" His face scrunches up in concentration. What could we play? The idea hits him, and he grins.
"Can you count to one million, Rachie?" Rachel's eyes widen.
"One million? I don't think anyone can count that far. Not even Miss Brown."
"Why?" he asks. "Don't you think you're smart enough?"
"I am so smart enough!" she growls at him, continuing with, "I've just never tried. I bet I could if I did."
Noah stands up, holding out a hand for Rachel. When she's on her feet, he grabs her wrists and says, "You count, and I'll hide. When you get to a million, come find me."
"But in hide-and-seek, people count to ten, or twenty. Not a million," Rachel pouts. Noah glares at her, and puts her hands over her eyes.
"A million," he repeats. "Otherwise it won't be as fun." He smiles a smile that she doesn't see behind her hands, and runs off to the house, shouting, "Make sure you count all the numbers!"
For a few moments, Rachel doesn't count at all in protest, annoyed at being made to go up to such a high number. She'd only ever made it up to 246 before stumbling. Eventually, she sighs, and gives in, silently cursing Noah in her head.
"One, two, three…."
*/*
"One hundred and ten, one hundred and eleven, one hundred and twelve, one hundred and…nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety nine –one million! Ready or not, here I come!" Rachel opens her eyes again, looking around the garden. Knowing Noah, he'd be somewhere inside, she thinks. She races towards the house, moving up the steps two at a time. She stops inside the door, eyes scanning the house, working out her game plan.
First place –kitchen.
Rachel opens up every one of the cupboards, head peering around inside, before closing them again with a small growl. He's not hiding under the table, or behind the potatoes in the pantry. She runs into the lounge room, checking behind the couches, under the coffee table, inside the curtains. When she's sure he's not there, she huffs, and runs into her daddies' study. He's not hiding in there either. Or in the bathroom. Or in the laundry. Or in the room under the stairs. Noah must be a very good hider, she concludes. Next time, he's counting.
Upstairs, she moves quietly, Mary-Janes softly stepping on the carpet, toe by toe. The linen cupboard is opened and closed very carefully as she checks each of the shelves, trying not to make the doors creak. The upstairs bathroom is empty of Noah as well, with no one hiding in the bath, shielding themselves with the plastic curtain that sticks to your skin if you get too close to it. She's walking past her daddies' room when she notices that the door is slightly open. Rachel stops, wondering if Noah was stupid enough to hide in there (she's not allowed in there herself without permission). It only takes her a few seconds to remember that this is Noah, and to open the door further and step inside.
She's careful not to touch anything like their drawers or ornaments; in case they find out she was in here. She gingerly opens the wardrobe, flicking through the clothes. He's not in there. Under the bed, all she sees are shoes and old boxes. She closes the door behind her, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. Noah must be smarter than she thought.
It's when she can't find him in the guest room, her bedroom, or any of the other rooms upstairs that Rachel starts to worry. She takes another look in all the rooms around the house, then another, then another. An hour later, she's really scared. What if Noah isn't in the house? What if he's been kidnapped, or abducted? What if she never sees him again? She sits on her bed, crying quietly. Mrs Puckerman is going to be so upset when she finds out that Rachel's lost Noah. Her dads are going to be so angry. They might even confiscate Mr Snuggles again. Rachel reaches for Mr Snuggles, holding the purple stuffed octopus to her chest, tears streaming down her face. She lets out a loud sob, her crying getting louder.
Something shuffles by the side of her bed. She sniffs, and turns her head to find that the laundry basket next to her bed is shifting from side to side. She cocks an eyebrow, and watches as the lid slowly rises to reveal a sheepy-faced Noah, holding the lid up with one hand. He pulls himself out of the basket, and she giggles when he catches his foot on the edge and trips onto the floor with a loud thump. "Stop laughing," he mutters, sitting on the sheets next to her. He frowns, and lifts a finger up to her face to touch one of the tears on her cheek. "Why are you crying, Rachie?"
"I-I thought you were…you were gone, and I got really upset ca-cause I thought I was going to get in trouble an-and I don't want you to go, you're my best friend and I…." Rachel trails off, voice turning into choking sobs and she buries her face in her hands. She can feel two arms moving around her shoulders, tugging her close to another body. "It's okay," Noah whispers in here ear. "I'm here, I'm not gonna leave, Rachie. I'd have no one to tease if I left, remember?" She laughs quietly through her sobs, reaching her arms around his waist.
"I'd miss you if you went away, Noah. You're my best friend too." She looks up at him and smiles. He smiles back, and leans down to kiss her softly on the cheek. She's blushing when he pulls away, and he doesn't think he can look into her eyes without doing the same, so he takes her hand in his and pulls her off the bed, leading her downstairs while telling her that they're "gonna find a funner game to play, 'cause hide and seek is for babies."
Five minutes later, and they're playing races again, running up and down the length of the yard as fast as their little legs can carry them.
Noah even lets Rachel win a few of them. She definitely doesn't beat him on her own.
*/*
"Noah, will you STOP!" Rachel growls at her boyfriend, whose laughs are filling the entire kitchen as he runs around the table with a bra in his hand, dodging his girlfriend's grabs at his t-shirt. She huffs and stomps her foot down on the ground. "Seriously, Noah!"
"Seriously, Noah!" he mocks, laughing again when she launches at him, narrowly missing her hands. "C'mon, babe, if you want your bra back, you're gonna have to catch me fir –OW!" He rubs at the spot on his head where Rachel had thrown a wooden spoon at. In the moment that he pauses running, she catches up to him and jumps on his back, throwing him down to the floor. Before he hits it, he manages to turn himself around and grab onto her, landing back first on the floor with a thump, bringing her down sprawling on top of him. Puck grins mischievously, reaching a hand around her back and pulling her down further against him. "Hey there, babe," he drawls. Rachel glares at him, and before he knows it, the wooden spoon's back in her hand and she's thwacking every bit of him she can reach while he shouts in pain (a manly shout, because manly men don't scream) and tries to grab for her hand.
She stops after a while, sitting up on his stomach and staring him down. "Apologise," she says, hitting the wooden spoon in her hand.
Puck shakes his head. "Never."
"Fine then." She shrugs. "You asked for it." She lifts the arm that's brandishing the kitchen utensil slowly, and he yells out "Truce! I'm sorry!" before she can hit him again.
"Have you learnt your lesson?"
"Yes…" he groans.
"Good. Now, give me back my bra." Puck sticks his tongue out at her, but complies, handing her back her bra, defeated. She smiles and hops off him, replacing the spoon on the counter.
"You sure you don't wanna straddle me again? That part I kinda enjoyed."
"Just get up, Noah."
He pushes himself off the ground, giving her a smirk and a wink. She rolls her eyes at him. "Aw, c'mon, sweetheart, you know I'm only joking with ya'" Rachel looks down at her feet, refusing to meet his eyes. He frowns and pulls her into a hug, not letting her go when she tries to push away.
"Let me go," she says, pushing at his arms. He shakes his head, leaning down to land a sloppy kiss on the side of her face.
"Not until you say you love me, Rachie." He can see her resolve falter at the use of her old nickname. Score. "Do it. You know you wanna." She shakes her head, but he can see her trying to hide a smile. He picks her up and drops her on the table. She squeaks, and he steps in between her legs, clasping his hands in hers and pulling them out to the side of their bodies, pushing their bodies flush together. "Say it," he says, voice deep. Puck can feel the shiver running through her body as he says the words.
"No," she says in a shaky voice.
He leans in even closer, lips brushing against her ear. "I'll even start you off," he whispers, stopping to nip at her ear, relishing in the small whimpers she can't seem to control. "I love you," he says in his huskiest tone, bending down and kissing at her neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." For every declaration, he kisses her again.
She's silent for a second, then breaths out, "How long?" He pauses in his ministrations and looks up at her in confusion. "How long have you loved me for?" she clarifies. The question takes him by surprised, and he's even more shocked when the answer comes to him so easily. He breaks the hold on her hands to reach one up to her face, stroking the cheek that he kissed all those years ago in her bedroom softly.
"Ever since we used to play hide and seek at your house," he says simply. Puck can literally see her breath hitch in her throat, before she lunges at him, grabbing the back of his head and kissing him so fiercely he swears he could see stars. She pulls away after a long (awesome) moment, and he's panting, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm guessing you love me too?" he croaks out. She bites her lip and nods.
"For just about as long as you have." He smiles at her –the woman he loves –and an idea sparks in his head.
"You wanna play a game?" he asks. Rachel raises an eyebrow.
"Just what did you have in mind…?"
Puck smirks. "I'm gonna count to a million, and you're gonna hide." Rachel groans, but it's only half-hearted.
"Can't you just count to twenty, like a normal person?"
"Fine," he says. "But I'm warning you, when I find you…" His voice drops an octave. "…I'm gonna steal your other bra." Rachel squeals, and runs out of the room. He closes his eyes, listening to the clomp clomp clomp of her footsteps running up the stairs. Too easy, Rachie….
"One, two, three…"
Reviews are most welcome :)