Five Kisses

by gleekinout

I kissed Rachel Berry five times in my life. Four of those times she actually kissed me back. Puckleberry one-shot.

AN: This is just a little idea I had for a story. It's just a one-shot about Puck reflecting on the times he kissed Rachel. It's slightly AU. I hope you enjoy!

I kissed Rachel Berry five times in my life. Four of those times she actually kissed me back.

The first time was when I was eight years old. I was at her house, playing with her in her room while my mom talked with her dads. Our families had always been good friends—we went to the same temple. So when Mom said we were going over to the Berry's house for lunch, I didn't think it was weird.

Later, I found out my mother was crying in the kitchen about my father leaving her. Leroy and Hiram Berry were the only people she felt she could tell without having them judge her. After all, she had just found out she was pregnant with my little sister, Rebecca.

Rachel and I were up in her room, sitting on her bed. I was reading a story from her fairy tale book while she listened. Rachel was a year younger than me, so she was still learning to read.

It was the story of Sleeping Beauty, where the prince kisses the princess to break the spell. That's how all fairy tales ended, with the prince saving the princess and the two of them living happily ever after.

Fairy tales were lame, but I never told Rachel that. She seemed to like them, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Sure, I made fun of her at school, but not when I was at her house. We were secret friends—we pretended that we barely knew each other at school, and then spent the entire weekend with each other.

I knew everyone would lose all respect for me if they found out that I was friends with annoying, teacher's pet, ass-kisser Rachel Berry, but she was fun to be around—as long as she wasn't talking that much.

When I read about the prince kissing the princess, Rachel turned to me and asked what it felt like being kissed.

I told her she knew—her dads kissed her all the time. I'd seen them kiss her the other day when she scraped her knee.

Not like that, she told me. A true love's kiss she meant. I told her it felt like magic, that's how I felt when I had that kiss.

I lied. I hadn't kissed a girl. Not yet, anyways. When I was a little older, I kissed lots of girls.

I want you to kiss me, Rachel said. She wanted me to kiss her so she could feel magic. I hesitated for a moment—did I really want Rachel Berry to be my first kiss? Not really, to be honest, but it was better than someone like Lauren Zizes.

Fine, I told her. But it was going to be a short kiss. Rachel agreed, and we both puckered up, our lips touching briefly before we both pulled away, blushing and ashamed.

She tasted like lemonade mixed with cinnamon graham crackers. I went back to the story as if nothing had happened.

Noah, she had said, looking up at me. You were right, it was like magic.

The second kiss was the beginning of our sophomore year.

I'd been held back after eighth grade for failing every class except gym, putting me into Rachel's year. We'd been in the same classes since then, her helping me on the weekends to make sure I'd graduate with her instead of after her.

I think that would have been most embarrassing, graduating after a girl who was a year younger than me. She was nice enough to not call me a dumbass when I couldn't do simple math problems, and I was nice enough to stop giving her a slushie facial on a daily basis.

She told me I could still do that if I wanted to, that I needed to keep up my reputation as the resident bad boy.

I told her I'd just keep tossing geeks into dumpsters. That would keep my reputation intact and would keep her hair free of grape slushie. That seemed like a good compromise.

Of course, I couldn't keep her from getting slushied by all the other football players in the school. Karofsky seemed to pick up my slack, making sure Rachel remembered she was on the very bottom of the social totem pole.

I told her I'd make him stop. She didn't deserve that.

She said it didn't matter—she was always going to get slushie facials, even if I stood up for her. So I let it keep happening and she kept tutoring me at nights.

But then I saw Karofsky hit her in the face with a blue slushie. I saw Rachel drop to her feet and cover her face.

It's in my eye, she sobbed. I couldn't tell if she was crying or not, but it sounded like she was in pain. So I did the only logical thing in that situation.

I punched David Karofsky in the face. He went down while everyone watched in silence. No one went over to help Rachel, who I could tell was actually crying at this point.

I went over, helping her to her feet before leading her into the girl's bathroom. I had her wait while I grabbed a chair from a nearby classroom, having her sit in it.

What hurts, I asked, looking down at her with concern.

He got it in my eye, she said, pulling her hands away from her face. Her pretty little face was streaked blue, her left eye red.

I grabbed a paper cup and rinsed her eye out with sink water, then used paper towels to clean up her face.

Rachel sat there in silence while I worked, a few tears falling down her face. They're never going to like me, Noah, she had said. No one at this school is ever going to like me.

I like you, I told her. You're my friend. Doesn't that count?

Sometimes it counts, but not always. You're only my friend at home, she said. You're not my friend at school, and that's where I really need it.

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't be her friend at school. No one liked her except the freaks in glee club, something I never wanted to associate myself with.

What about the kid in the wheelchair? I asked, looking down at her, pulling a clump of slushie out of her hair. Isn't he your friend?

Rachel shook her head, telling me he was her glee friend, just like I was her home friend. They were only friends in glee club.

And if no one even likes me as a friend, how is anyone going to like me as more than a friend? The only kiss I'm ever going to have is the time I made you kiss me when we were kids.

That was the only time either of us had brought that up. We tended to pretend that kiss hadn't happened, that our first kiss had meant something.

But then, I realized that kiss had meant something to her.

So I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. Rachel seemed to freeze, unsure of what was happening. After a moment, she kissed me back. Not the way Santana kissed me back when we were hooking up, but the way I imagined someone who loved you would kiss you back.

Her lips were cold and tasted like blue raspberry.

I'm sorry, I apologized. I should have asked you if that was okay.

No, she had said, smiling at me. That was nice.

The third time we kissed was at the end of sophomore year.

Rachel had suckered me into joining glee club, even though I told her a thousand times there was no way in hell I was joining.

What can I say; I'm a sucker for a girl in a plaid skirt.

Rachel had been dating that Jesse kid from Vocal Adrenaline, who even transferred schools to be with her. I thought it was all an act—he was just trying to get into her skirt.

I tried telling Rachel that, but she didn't believe me.

Jesse isn't like you, Noah, she said, angry I had even brought the matter up. He's a good guy. He would never use me for anything.

When I tried telling her what's what he was making her think, she refused to listen to reason and just ignored me.

I wish I could say that didn't bother me, but it did. I thought I would enjoy not having her irritating voice buzzing in my ear all the time, but I missed it. For some reason, I needed Rachel in my life.

Of course, I wasn't going to be the one to apologize to her first. She had to apologize for going off on me about Jesse, but I knew that wouldn't happen until I was proven right.

And damn, I sometimes hate when I'm right.

Rachel called me after math on the Wednesday before Regionals. She was crying so hard I could barely understand her. She eventually got out that she was in the parking lot and needed to go home.

I was supposed to be heading to English, but who really cared about that class. Rachel was obviously upset about something, so I hopped into my car and drove around back to pick her up.

Then, I saw her. She was covered in egg yolk, some of it dripping down her face. Normally, I was overly protective of my car, but Rachel was really upset—so I let her in, even though I knew it was going to get all over the front seat.

What happened, I asked, needing to know who would do this to Rachel.

Jesse and Vocal Adrenaline. They egged me. I don't know why, but they did. Jesse cracked the one on my face, she admitted.

I shook my head, ready to drive over to Carmel High and beat that punk to a pulp. Rachel may have been irritating and annoying, but she didn't deserve this. No one had a right to do this to her, not even me.

Now was the perfect moment for an I-told-you-so, but I wasn't about to kick her when she was already down.

You were right, she told me. It was all an act. He just wanted to get into my pants.

Did he? I asked her.

Rachel stayed silent for a while before nodding her head. Last week, she admitted.

So this was that kid's sick way of breaking up with her? I really was going to murder him.

I pulled up in front of her house, turning my car off. Rachel made no move to get out of the car, just staring out of the windshield.

I'm sorry, she apologized. I should have listened to you about him.

It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that I'm going to kick his ass.

No, don't. I don't want you getting suspended again for beating someone up who was mean to me.

I sighed, resting my forehead against the steering wheel. What a mess this was. Rachel was sitting in my car covered in egg and I couldn't even kill the punk who did it to her.

I looked over at Rachel, noticing for the first time how pretty she was. The arch of her cheekbones, the angle of her jaw—all of it was perfect.

Even covered in egg, she was gorgeous.

For the third time in my life, I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers, cupping her face in my hand.

Rachel seemed more prepared for this kiss, as if she had sensed it was coming. She gripped my shirt with her hands, pulling me closer to her.

Instead of the innocent kiss when we were young or the loving kiss from the bathroom, this one was filled with desire, passion, and emotion.

If she was any other girl, I would have pulled her clothes off and had my way with her in the backseat. But this was Rachel—she deserved better than that. She deserved romance.

I finally pulled away, looking at her.

She tasted like salt and egg, not what Rachel should ever taste like.

I'm sorry, I apologized. That was inappropriate. I had all these thoughts and feelings buzzing around in my mind, I didn't know what to think.

Rachel was no longer just the girl I was friends with or the girl who made sure I didn't fail. She was something more, though I was too stupid to know what more was.

So instead, I let out a nervous laugh and watched her frown.

Thanks for driving me home, Noah, she said in a disappointed voice. I'll see you at school.

With that, she climbed out of my car, not even bothering to look back at me before walking into her house.

The fourth time I kissed Rachel was at prom.

For some unheard of reason, I didn't have a date. It didn't make any sense, girls loved me. Well, they loved my penis, at least.

After our car make out, Rachel and I pretended nothing had happened. We went back to being friends, and she went back to tutoring me.

I couldn't go back to normal around her. She was no longer the little girl I had grown up with. She was a woman, a woman I was falling in love with.

Summer came, and she started dating Finn. She seemed so happy with him; I couldn't bear to ruin that. So I fooled around with Santana and Brittany, which seemed to serve as a distraction for a bit.

But then I saw her every day, saw her making puppy dog faces at Finn and kept getting a desire to punch him in the face.

Then they broke up after Finn cheated on her with Quinn, and I was the one who was there to pick up the pieces.

Rachel came to my house in tears, saying how she saw them kissing at the library. I wanted to punch Finn even more now. He had Rachel and then broke her heart. I couldn't decide who was worse—him or Jesse.

Rachel cried and said now she didn't have a prom date. She asked me to go with her. As friends.

I lied and told her I wasn't going.

I didn't want to go with her as her friend; I wanted to go with her as her date. I wanted to buy her a corsage and tell her she was beautiful. And after we slow danced, I wanted to kiss her.

Rachel knew I was lying. If you don't want to go with me, just say so. You don't need to lie to me! She yelled before walking out of my house, slamming the door on the way out.

We didn't speak for a week. Prom was three days away and I still had no date. I heard Rachel was going with Sam, but then Mercedes told me they were doing something called 'prom-on-a-budget', whatever that meant.

I didn't want Rachel going to prom with Sam or doing some stupid 'prom-on-a-budget'. She deserved romance. She deserved to feel like a princess on the night of her junior prom.

So I sucked up all my pride and apologized. I caught her by her locker after lunch.

Rachel, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you.

Whatever, I'm over it. I just thought you'd like to go with one of your oldest friends instead of going stag. Guess I was wrong.

No, that's not it. I'd love to go to prom with you—just not as your friend. I want to be your date.

Rachel looked up at me, a stunned expression on her face. She seemed to be at a loss for words, which was a first. Finally, she just nodded her head and told me to pick her up at seven, and that we were still going to meet Mercedes and Sam at Breadstix because she had promised them.

Whatever. She was going with me. I could stand eating mediocre food for that.

So I picked her up at her house on time, a white corsage with pink ribbon with me. I slipped it on her wrist and her dads snapped pictures, saying they always knew we'd go to prom together.

At the dance, things seemed a little awkward. I didn't know why, but Rachel always wanted to dance with a group instead of just me.

When a slow song finally came on, she was forced to dance with me.

Why are you acting weird? I asked, my hands resting on her waist.

I'm not acting weird. I just don't know how to act with you now that you're my prom date instead of my friend.

Act like you always act around me, I told her.

If I acted like I normally did, I'd make fun of you for wearing a bow tie, she teased, looking down as she giggled.

I rolled my eyes at her, swaying to the music. I told her it was okay to not know how to act with me, that I didn't know how to act with her.

That seemed to calm her and she rested her head on my shoulder. I held her close, the words I wanted to tell her on the tip of my tongue.

I loved her.

I wanted to tell her, but I didn't know how she'd react. This was a lot for her right now. Adding love to the mix might scare her off forever.

A kiss, though. That was okay.

I dipped my head down and captured her lips with mine, kissing her for the fourth time. I could feel Rachel's lips curve up in a smile as she kissed me back, the two of us still dancing.

It wasn't a kiss of desire like before. It was a kiss that said you're more than just my friend. You're the other part of my soul, only I'm just realizing it now.

She tasted like mint and strawberries, a combination that screamed Rachel.

Next Friday, I told her. That new James Bond movie is coming out. Want to go with me?

She nodded her head, not speaking a word. Words would ruin the moment that we had right now.

The last kiss I had with Rachel Berry was the next Friday.

She looked as beautiful as always. Her hair was perfect, better than I had ever seen it before.

I leaned down to kiss her, though she didn't kiss me back. Her lips were cold and she tasted like rain.

Please Rachel, I pleaded. Please kiss me back.

But she didn't. She didn't say anything. She didn't even look at me.

Rachel, I'm begging you. Please kiss me back. I won't ever kiss you again; I just want you to kiss me back this time.

Leroy, her father, put a hand on my shoulder and led me away.

Drunk driver, I heard Kurt telling Sam. Didn't even see her crossing the street.

I looked over at the casket, the girl I loved lying in it.

No, that wasn't the girl I loved. That was just a body that looked like her. That body didn't have her laugh or her smile. It didn't have Rachel's personality. It didn't have anything I'd fallen in love with.

She was gone, and all that was left behind was her cold, still body.

And me. I was left behind. I never even had a chance to tell her I loved her. And now…now it was too late.

I couldn't stand being there, not when I knew they were about to put her in the ground. I didn't even bother telling my mom I was leaving. I just…left.

I walked away from the funeral home, climbing in my car and driving away. I knew where I wanted to go.

It looked as if nothing had ever happened, but I knew it had. I knew her blood had been on the street, spilled out for the whole town to see. I knew that was where she had taken her last breath. I knew it was where she had been all alone.

It had been raining that night. I'd called her an hour before it happened, telling her I'd pick her up Friday for the movie. I wanted to tell her then, tell her how I felt about her.

No, I told myself. Not yet. Wait until the first date.

I never should have waited.

Rachel told me she was going to the store, getting something to cook for a late dinner. I told her I'd come over and take her—it was raining that night. She told me no, that she was a big girl and could take care of herself.

I worried, though. What if her car broke down? What if she got mugged?

You're being ridiculous, she told me. I'm just going to the store to pick up a few things.

I told her to call me when she got home.

She promised she would.

I finally got a call at eleven that night. It was her dad.

There's been an accident, he told me. He sounded upset. They've asked me to go down and identify her body. I can't do it, Noah.

He wanted me to do it for him, to look into the dead eyes of the girl I loved and admit that it was really her.

I told him I would. I drove to the police station. They told me where to go.

The morgue.

The doctor was there, a body covered with a white sheet. Tell me when you're ready, he said.

He pulled the sheet down and I stared at her. That was her. That was my Rachel. The Rachel who tasted like lemons when she was a kid and who asked me to kiss her so she could feel the magic. The Rachel who tasted like blue raspberry and who was willing to let me keep hitting her in the face with slushies to keep up my reputation. The Rachel who tasted like eggs and tears and was the only person I let ride in my car when she was covered in egg. The Rachel who tasted like mint and strawberries and who had spent hours getting ready for her junior prom.

She was lying dead on a slab in the morgue.

That's Rachel, I nodded. That's her.

I pulled my head out of my thoughts. No, I wasn't going to think about that night. Not now.

I parked and sat in the park, looking out at the place where she died. She wasn't here anymore than she was in that funeral parlor. She was gone from this world, up with the angels where she was singing with that beautiful voice of hers.

All I wanted was one more chance to hold her, one more chance to kiss her, one more chance to tell her how I really felt about her.

Noah.

And then she was there. She was standing in front of me, looking more beautiful than she ever had in life.

Noah.

I stared, not making a move. Was this real, or had I gone insane.

Noah.

An outline of light surrounded Rachel. She was clothed in a long, white gown, her dark hair curled in ringlets.

You have to let go, Noah. Let go of me. Don't dwell on what you lost. I want you to live your life instead of trying to hold onto me.

But I don't want to, I told her. I want you to stay here with me.

I don't belong here, Noah. God has bigger plans for me. She bent down so she was eye level with me. Just remember that, no matter what, I will always be with you. She placed a hand on my chest, and I was stunned I could actually feel her hand. I will always be in your heart. And one day, one day many years from now, we'll be together again. But now I have to go.

Please, I begged. Please don't leave me.

The dead never really leave you, we're just harder to see. Her outline started disappearing and she was growing fainter and fainter. I love you, Noah.

And then she was gone again. She was gone, and I was alone.

I love you, Rachel, I whispered, a tear falling down my face.

I know, I heard her whisper in my head. And I love you.