A/N: Yes, I am aware that this pairing is twisted. Emma and Puck are my guilty pleasure pairing--honestly, they are quite an intruguing pair. I've found myself craving some good Puck/Emma fics recently, but don't worry, I am and will remain an avid Wemma shipper. I just think it's fun to stray away from the canon from time to time. Emma's character is slightly OOC in this fic for obvious reasons.
Though you might be skeptical, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think.
He is the student who visits her office the most—even more than Rachel Berry, who is constantly obsessing over her grades, teenage drama, and whether or not she's taking the right measures to be accepted into Juilliard.
He comes down often, sometimes to rant, sometimes to ask for advice—whatever it is, he always has a reason. Emma honestly isn't sure how much is truth and how much is an excuse to visit her pristine office.
Mostly, he just listens—listens to her ramble, listens to her give cliché advice.
She knows that he has a crush on her—if crush is even the right term. The word crush implies "sweet" and "innocent," and she knows that the mind of Noah Puckerman is anything but. She can tell by the way he looks at her, by the way his presence changes the atmosphere in the room, that he is thinking about her in way he should not.
She's thought about asking Will for advice, but she can't bring herself to. After all, what could be done? She has no proof except for her own gut feeling, and it's not like she could tell a student to stop coming for counseling.
And a part of her knows she doesn't really want it to be taken care of. She takes a sort of comfort in the odd relationship they have formed. Her afternoons are lonely, and she's desperate to have something fill the emptiness in her life.
***
She's paging through her SAT prep course outline after school when she hears a tap on her door. For a fleeting moment, she hopes it's Will, but she reminds herself how quickly he left this afternoon to go home to his wife. He doesn't have time for her.
But Puck does. He pokes his head in, smiling when his gaze rests on her.
"Come on in," she says to him, and she tries to suppress the feeling of excitement brought on by his visit. Emma knows it's wrong, but really, is it so wrong to want to be wanted?
"Please sit down, Noah," she tells him, smoothing her skirt. "What can I do for you today?"
She always calls him Noah—to her, it seems inappropriate to call him by his nickname.
His silence startles her, catching her off guard as she turns to look at the boy, who always has a reason for his frequent visits. He folds his arms across his chest, leaning forward. Emma's stomach flops uneasily. There's something different about him today, and she can sense that he's not here to have a pleasant chat.
"I think," he whispers, pulling his chair closer to the desk, "you know exactly why I'm here."
Emma's breath hitches, and she feels a blush rise to her face. "Um, well, Noah," she stutters hopelessly, straightening the stack of papers on her desk as she tries not to catch his gaze. "I'm—I'm afraid I can't read your mind, so you're going to have elaborate." She plays the naïve card, and she knows Puck can see right through her façade.
He only leans closer—so close that Emma can feel his breath across her face. She opens her mouth to speak, but Puck's hand brushes her thigh beneath the desk, ever so softly, momentarily stunning her.
"You like that, don't you, Emma?" Puck chuckles, leaning back as she regains her composure.
"Th-that's Miss Pillsbury to you, Noah," Emma tries to sound stern, but she fails miserably. Her stocking covered leg still tingles faintly from his touch.
She feels his hand brush her knee once again, as softly as he touched her before. She knows she needs to tell him to stop, but the feel of his fingers against her skin have her paralyzed. His fingers dance across her thigh, reaching the hem of her pencil skirt, delving closer to that forbidden realm between her legs—too close.
She pulls away abruptly, standing up from her chair and smoothing her skirt once again. With as much authority as she can muster, she says, "Noah, I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."
He only smiles. They both know that he is truly the one in charge, and for a fleeting second, Emma is terribly frightened. She glances at him, trembling slightly, but as soon as her eyes meet his, he has her in a stupor once again.
He stands, and for a minute, she believes that he intends to leave, but he approaches her instead. Emma can feel his eyes boring into her body. She watches as his eyes scan her, starting with her legs, and then moving upward. They rest for a prolonged moment on her chest, and Emma instantly regrets wearing the flimsy white blouse she chose this morning.
When his eyes reach her face, he lifts his hand up, gently tilting her chin so his eyes meet hers.
She doesn't move—doesn't know if she's capable of moving—as his face comes slowly toward hers. When their lips meet, Emma's instincts tell her to jerk away, but she can hardly muster the will power to do so. He tastes like strawberries and mints, a flavor she finds comforting. When he opens his mouth, the flavor becomes stronger, and she parts her own lips as she completely succumbs to his touch.
A bell sounds, causing the pair to jerk apart.
"End of detention bell," Puck reminds her, and the pair relaxes when they realize they won't be caught. Puck moves in once again, but this time, Emma backs away.
"Please leave."
He looks slightly hurt, and she turns away from his gaze, unable to bear those warm brown eyes.
"You know I can report you for this," she says feebly, trying desperately to be in control.
Puck only snorts. They both know she won't, but there's the threat, and Puck knows it's time for him to go.
He picks up his bag from beside the desk, slinging it over his shoulder. Despite his power over her, he can maintain at least a fraction of respect for her.
Furious with herself, she packs her own bag once Puck disappears from view, heading into the empty hallways with a looming feeling of guilt.
He doesn't visit anymore, and besides an occasional sighting in the hallways, she doesn't see him anymore. She knows she should be relieved, but that would be a lie.
The truth is, she's hoping that he'll come back.