Author's Note: I've been away so long that it literally took me awhile to remember how to even post a new fic. Christ.
And I'd like this to be a big celebration of "Woohoo! I'm back!" but this is really just me attempting to get back on the horse, however slow the trot may be. I've committed myself to spending at least one night a week on writing, hoping that will be enough to maybe spark my muse to demand more. But, well, life.
Regardless, today I'm sharing something I started back during the first season Gwen Stefani was on The Voice, which I point out only because the format of the breaks tied to the schedule of the show (at least sort of ... I don't actually watch the show, but I did enough minor research for this to work). I finally finished it just last night after hearing a new season had recently started, and thought it would be perfect timing for my lame comeback attempt.
Final note, I have to dedicate this partially to Smytheberry1726, who went through basically my entire Puckleberry portfolio and really pushed me to get back on the writing train I'd missed so much. So thank you. But, also a pre-emptive thank you to everyone who read (and especially to those who review). Now, enough (way past enough) babbling. ENJOY!
Disclaimer: No infringement intended; I don't have cable, let alone the rights to The Voice or Glee or the characters/plotlines/semantics of such.
Rachel stood in front of her chair, stretching her legs during a set break while everyone else did the same. Even though the show only ran for two hours (including commercials), the truth was the judges and audience spent a full day listening to contestant hopefuls only to come back the next day (and the next and the next) to do it all again. This was day three of the Blind Auditions and things were getting more and more stressful. For one, she was a little sick of the outfit she was being forced to wear over and over (she understood why, but that didn't make it any less gross). But, more importantly, slots were filling up on everyone's teams (hers included) and she absolutely hated the look of disappointment on people's faces when they'd sing their heart out without being rewarded by the push of a single button. Obviously she knew not everyone could win and was more than understanding of reasons a judge might not want to turn around, but everyone who was auditioning was there to start the same dream she'd once had as a kid. And Rachel really hated being the one to explain that they weren't done working for it yet.
When she heard the warm-up guy start getting the audience excited again, she moved back into the large red chair along with the other judges. She smiled gratefully at the stage manager who'd just refilled her Starbucks cup with fresh tea, though she made a mental note to only take a few sips or she'd need to use the restroom way before the next scheduled break. A few minutes of small talk between the judges passed, then suddenly her chair was spinning to face the audience and cameras were rolling into place. The exuberant cheering hushed only as the lights started to fade, and the clicking of heels was the first and only hint to the contestant on stage before her voice blended with the music.
Rachel recognized the song immediately, knowing it was in her pop genre wheelhouse and rolling her eyes when one of the judges taunted her about why she hadn't pressed her button yet. If it hadn't been in the middle of someone's audition and she wasn't already used to the teasing, she would likely have told him every single reason. The only one that really mattered was she heard a few pitch issues immediately and wasn't impressed with a cover of a song that sounded almost identical to the original. However, she also was less than pleased with her position on this show. She understood she was new and she even appreciated the steady work that kept her in one place instead of touring around the country like she'd done last year, but she didn't appreciate the way the producers had pigeonholed her as the pop princess of the show. And she knew the others likely felt the same way, seeing as how they were equally siloed into "rock guy" and "country guy" and "hip-hop/R&B guy", but she wanted to be different.
She'd joined the show to rekindle her fire for the industry, to be inspired by the contestants' stories and dedication. The girl currently on stage, who was just about finished and everyone but Rachel had pushed their buttons, could have a very heartfelt story and might be an excellent student, but she was looking for a winner. This wasn't American Idol. They weren't looking for the next carbon-copy pop star, but an artist. Yes, they needed to be marketable, but part of that came from the passion and talent they exuded during their time in front of the camera. Even then, win or lose, their lives would change forever if they worked even half as hard at it as they'd done to get onto The Voice in the first place. So that's what she was trying to listen for: someone whose story could be heard in his or her voice/song choice. Someone who deserved a chance, and was willing to work to earn the several other chances they'd need to make it in the music industry.
"Rachel, we'll start with you."
She plastered on a fake smile and shook her head in amazement. "That was incredible," she lied easily. "Great song choice and you're so adorable. And now you have your pick of three wonderful - and need I point out male? - coaches."
The audience laughed and the girl on stage blushed. Pharrell took that moment to pile on the charm, and Rachel could see even in the distance that Blake didn't stand a chance. The girl was basically swooning over Adam, but seemed intrigued by Pharrell's producer sales pitch. It was all quite entertaining to watch (hence why the show was so successful) and she threw in an extra comment that got Blake and Adam bickering like an old married couple. In the end, Adam ended up winning (or losing, since Rachel was fairly certain the girl wouldn't go further than the Battle Round). Still, he made a spectacle of claiming victory, giving the young girl a strong hug before taunting the other two men about their loss.
A quick switch with the lighting as the girl was interviewed backstage, and then the audience was quieting again to prepare for yet another contestant. She couldn't hear any footsteps, which either meant it was a girl in flats or a boy. And she'd expected to hear the opening notes of a song, but was surprised when the lights brightened again and a male voice boomed inside the sound stage. She knew the song because she was a huge Queen fan, but it felt completely different as she listened intently to the voice crooning it out. Then, when the intro was over and the instruments were added, she stopped listening to the song altogether and just focused on the singer.
His tone was incredible, and he was holding the right notes perfectly while still adding a raspy flair where needed. Looking to her left and right, Rachel was surprised to see no one had pressed his button yet, and she listened even harder in an attempt to figure out why. But then the lyrics cut out for just a moment and her eyes drifted up to the audience to see nearly everyone clap their hands on cue before continuing to enjoy the performance. And despite the somewhat off-color lyrics and unlikelihood that many of those in the audience even knew the song, they were all enjoying it. The singer was clearly putting on a show, and the song felt organic less than rehearsed. He was comfortable with it, sure, but there was something in his voice that intrigued her beyond curiosity. Then she heard a slight growl before the last lyrical line and felt an entirely different set of emotions, ones that she imagined were shared with the 100% of women standing up and dancing in the audience.
So she pressed her button.
The chair turned right before the last chord gave out, and the look of relief that washed over the man's face was one of the most beautiful things Rachel had ever seen. Yet, looking at the singer, she was fairly certain she could use that statement to describe him entirely. He was gorgeous. Granted, she was a sucker for a man who could play an instrument, but this gentleman would be attractive in any scenario, prop or no prop. His black sweater and dark wash jeans were casual yet fitting enough that it was obvious they were covering up a nice body. And his face … there might not exist enough glowing adjectives in the English language to describe it. Chiseled. Toned. Strong. He had eyes that pierced through her, and she didn't normally like a shaved head but couldn't imagine him having any other style.
Then Blake asked him for his stats and she couldn't really hear the answers after his name because she was too focused on his voice, again. During his performance, he'd been confident. She could hear how natural it felt, how comfortable he'd been in that environment. Here things were different. He still exuded an impressive amount of charm and he certainly let that devilish smirk of his work in his favor, but Rachel could tell the confidence was an act. He wasn't used to being in the spotlight, and it made her even more curious as to why he'd auditioned in the first place.
"I'm so bummed I didn't press my button!" Adam whined, hitting the desk-like portion of his chair with his fist. "The audience was really into it, and I almost did," he lamented before looking over at her and pointing. "She's a good coach, but I'll be a better one when I steal you in one of the later rounds!"
Rachel rolled her eyes, coming to stand since there was no decision for Noah to make; he was stuck with her as she was the only one that had heard his potential (or at least heard it and needed it for her team). She turned on her sass because she wasn't new to this game and was perfectly capable of handling herself with these boys, and moved to stand directly in front of Adam before declaring, "And what makes you think I'd let go the next winner of The Voice?"
The crowd went crazy and Adam lifted his hands in fake surrender before shouting at Blake's follow-up teasing. But just as Rachel was feeling a burst of adrenaline from the zinger, she turned to face her contestant and felt her breath catch in her throat when he was right there. Like, so close that she had to tilt her head back a little to look him in the eye - which was a terrible idea, by the way, because the intensity in his gaze was only offset by a flirtatious wink. Her arms opened in reflex and she actually closed her eyes when she felt him hug her back. He smelled incredible and felt incredible and she told him so (at least the incredible part; no need to specify the terms) before letting him move backstage and her taking back her own seat.
The day was far from over, and she obviously had to keep playing the game to ensure she had the best team, but Rachel couldn't help but drift off every now and again and wonder just how she was going to pull off sounding anything but like the lovesick school girl she felt like when it was time for her confessional sessions.
The producers had asked her to pick someone from Broadway to be her guest mentor, but Rachel politely wanted to point out that she was someone from Broadway. Sure, they'd only made her part of the show after she'd snagged a Grammy for her debut pop album - not to mention her stint on the hugely-popular (and recently ended) television series Glee - but she'd started in Broadway when she was just eight-years-old and wasn't exactly unknown in that avenue even now. Besides, the artists on her team weren't looking to break into the theater business; this show was dedicated to finding a mainstream artist, and even though Rachel could certainly ask Kristen or Idina to help her, she wanted to help her team more. She wanted to find someone who'd been in the business a while, but not necessarily someone who was a pop star. That pretty much eliminated everyone she'd worked with on Glee, except maybe one. So she called Josh Groban and was actually surprised when he agreed.
The reactions of her artists when they walked into the studio room and saw her sitting next to Josh were priceless. Some gushed, some shrieked in excitement, and one actually nearly fainted. The only one who stayed completely neutral (though still professional and respectful) was Noah, and she pretty much anticipated such. Still, it didn't stop her from selling the choice to him and his battle partner a little harder, trying to convey that the best battles are those that are emotional and powerful and how those are two adjectives that Josh Groban practically invented. There was some teasing at her expense - she was not ignorant to that fact that she was an emotional powerhouse, too - before she revealed the song choice for the pair. Noah moved to grab his guitar from where he'd placed it down upon entering, but she told him to leave it; she also called it a crutch, and it was obvious the entire rest of the session how pissed he was at the offhanded comment.
So, before the dress rehearsal, she tried her best at her first real chance at one-on-one mentoring. It didn't go particularly well, though, mostly because she was insanely attracted to him and he was the kind of guy who could smell that kind of thing on a woman. His smirk was just a little too deep, his eyes just a tad too dark for her to have assumed he'd been listening to her, but, then again, she couldn't really blame him because she reacted the same way during the final battle performance. Everyone else seemed pretty blown away by him, too, though, which helped validate her decision to move him on to the next round.
Rachel lounged comfortably in her designated red chair, sipping from her coffee and laughing at Taylor's story about something that had happened last year after the Grammy's. The two didn't exactly run in the same circle, but they'd had a nice conversation at one of the parties last year after Rachel had won Best New Artist, and she respected Taylor as both a fellow artist and as a woman. When she'd heard Taylor was going to the be sole mentor for the Knockout round, she thought it was a brilliant idea considering the vast range of her talent and experience. However, when she'd seen Miss Swift's mouth practically drop open in lust the second Noah started to climb the stairs to the stage, Rachel knew the blonde would have nothing insightful to offer because, much like herself, it was difficult to find a flaw in all his perfection.
"Well, this is awkward," he opened with a rough chuckle, the sound causing those little butterflies in Rachel's stomach to burst into flames. In the brief moment that he took to acknowledge her before focusing back on Taylor, though, he didn't seem to notice the effect he had on her. She was thankful, too, that the two managed to converse for as long as they did because it gave her a chance to pull herself together. By the time he picked up his guitar to begin practicing his song - he'd decided to do a version of Taylor's "Mean," which explained his remark - she was far more in control of her feelings; at least far more so than the blonde to her right, whose cheeks were still a faint shade of pink and whose mouth looked like it had a hanger stuck inside of it.
"I'm so torn!" Taylor gushed once he'd finished singing, standing up immediately after the last chord to start her way to the stage. "By the end I felt so empowered by your confidence, but you showed such vulnerability throughout … it was so incredible!"
Despite the high praise, his eyes flickered to Rachel, and she was stunned further by their imploring when he added his voice. "The song doesn't really work without the guitar."
She nodded her head in understanding, smiling at the fact that he'd not only thought about her comment from their first session but done so enough that he'd worried she may have been right. "It was the right choice, Noah."
"It's kinda slow."
"It's a good choice," she pressed, now only a few feet of space between them. "Song choice is essential at this point in the game, and showing the judges and the audience that you're considering both your strengths and your weaknesses is commendable. You're a talented artist, Noah, and showing your versatility is important."
She played the words back over in her head at least twice, ensuring that it all sounded professional and not worthy of the hurricane of emotions that raged inside of her. Everything felt like a trap, from the cameras that were pointed at them intently to the rigidness of his posture. Even his eyes were a stormy color she hadn't seen before, and she wondered if the secret truth hidden in her praise was as apparent as it seemed echoing in her mind. Fearful that it was, Rachel averted her gaze - only to set her sight onto his lips. She traced the peaks and valleys of the pink flesh with her eyes, only snapping back to reality when the sound of Taylor clearing her throat forced both Rachel and Noah to turn back toward the blonde; Rachel had completely forgotten she was there, and it was clear Taylor had felt the same.
"I'm feeling a little like the third wheel."
Rachel laughed nervously at the blonde's joke, her eyes scanning the two different cameras and hoping this moment would never make it past the editing room. "No, no, no," she denied lamely, still forcing some amusement into her tone. "You're the one with the relationship drama. Not me."
Taylor accepted the teasing with a roll of her eyes, changing the subject back to Noah and his performance. Rachel listened as best she could while the alarm bells were still sounding in her head, but she nodded fervently when Taylor mentioned that Noah deserved to win the knockout. After all, even without the endorsement, she'd already decided to bring Noah to the live shows.
Rachel looked up at the clock once more, blowing out an exaggerated breath when she saw only a minute had passed since she'd last checked the time. She'd arrived early, but that wasn't necessarily unexpected; she'd always been a very punctual person, and maintained such as best she could despite the demanding schedule of becoming a star. Untangling her fingers from one another, she grabbed the sheet music she'd placed on top of the piano and perused the lines as if she didn't know each note and lyric by heart. Then, much like she'd done just a few minutes prior, she placed the paper back down and re-straightened the stack before wringing her hands in front of her again. Sighing heavily, she shook her head and finally accepted what had been obvious all day: She was nervous.
It was a good kind of nervous, the same she got right before a big performance. Because, honestly, she knew there was no reason for her to actually be scared; today was the first day back in the studio after the lag time between the taped shows and the live shows. She was booked to see two of her contestants today and the other three tomorrow, then she'd see them all again once more at the end of the week for a final rehearsal. She might be new to the show, but she wasn't new to the pace of perfecting a performance. It was in her blood, as natural to her as breathing. But … well, breathing wasn't exactly easy when he was nearby.
"Hey," Noah greeted casually, the door swinging closed as he walked into the room. His eyes scanned the area, his head bobbing in acknowledgement of the band that was set up before he looked back to her. His smile was easy and his stride just as relaxed, and she struggled to remember if he'd looked as good as he did now back during the taped shows. There was a hint of stubble along his jaw that made him look just a touch older, and it certainly worked for him, but other than that he looked exactly the same. Beautiful.
"Hi," she squeaked, surprised when his strong arms wrapped around her loosely (for far too short of a time period). She quickly plastered on what she hoped came off as a professional expression, gesturing toward a stool that was set up for him across from hers. "How are you? How have you been?"
He shrugged emptily, his gaze momentarily noticing the cameras that had moved in closer before he spoke. "Good. Glad to be back."
"It's quite an experience, isn't it?" She pushed away the nostalgia swirling in her head, chuckling lightly. "Going back home, after all this."
"It was somethin', that's for sure," he agreed, his own laughter filling in some of the empty space around them. "People who called me a loser before were all up in my shit, actin' like I'd already won."
She frowned at how blase he'd sounded, how accustomed to the negativity he seemed to be. She didn't like the implication that people weren't encouraging him beforehand; he was talented and had been respectful in all her encounters with him thus far. She could guess that he had his bout of teenage rebellion just based on his personality, but he deserved the kind of support that it was clear he was only getting now that he was on television.
"I know the type," she revealed quietly. "After I forced my family to move to the city, I was surrounded by people who either didn't believe I had what it took to make it or who knew I did but didn't want me to enjoy it. I spent my entire childhood perfecting my craft in order to achieve my dreams of making it in this business, using their hate as fuel to work harder." She cleared her throat, screwing on a soft smile as she finished. "So now, when one of those naysayers comes out of the woodwork claiming to love a certain song of mine or be a fan of some play or show I did, I smile just a little wider because success is one of the best forms of vengeance."
"You're kinda badass, Berry."
The amusement in his tone was enough for her, but the casual placement of his hand on her knee thrilled her. She thrived on his touch, but still couldn't help but dismiss his assessment. "I promise, if you actually knew me …"
"I, uh, actually know someone who'd agree with me. Someone who knows you."
Her mouth shut with a snap, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "We … we have a mutual acquaintance?"
"Mike Chang."
It took her approximately four seconds before she gasped in recognition, her own hand flying to his knee as the other covered her mouth in surprise. She dropped it to let loose a wide grin, staring at him anxiously. "You know Mike? I love Mike." She moved her hands animatedly, memories of her past coursing through her brain. "He was my dancing partner at Julliard my sophomore year. He was absolutely incredible and so nice even though dancing is not my strong suit and …"
"He said you were great."
She blushed, ignoring the interruption to instead wonder what else they talked about in regards to her. What had Noah said? Had it been good or bad? Instead, she asked, "What is he doing now?"
"He's one of the dancers for Jennifer Lopez, actually."
"Wow. That's … what a small world." She shook her head in amazement, a soft smile still on her lips before she heard a cameraman re-adjust the lens to her right. She tensed immediately, chastising herself for forgetting her role. She was supposed to be mentoring Noah, not wasting time sitting and talking with him like they were two friends catching up. They weren't friends, if only because she wanted to do much more than just talk with him. It was her job to make sure everyone knew just how talented he was, and she felt even more responsible to do that job right knowing that he had something to prove.
"Let's get to work," she declared abruptly, nodding her head once in determination. "Time to make everyone sorry they ever doubted you."
His smile widened, and her sudden fierceness wavered just enough to make her unsteady. She shook it off, though, because being able to make a guy like him react in such a way was pretty badass.
When he made it past the first week of live shows - she really had no doubt; his talent aside, he was too attractive not to earn enough votes - she vowed their next week of rehearsals would be completely professional. Normally it was her default attitude, but there was something about Noah that forced Rachel to have to remind herself not to get off track. He had a strong presence, one that took time to get used to because it was so powerful. People have said the same thing about her, but it was never in a positive manner; it was more like she was a lot to handle, a struggle. Noah, conversely, was just distracting. So when he walked in, she immediately got down to business, asking him his song choice for the week and intending to start practicing it right away. Unfortunately, she must have made a face because he caught it quickly and asked for its origin.
"it's just …" She sighed, not really sure how to answer him delicately. "I'd never limit you to just one genre because I know you're much more capable than just being one thing. But, considering where we are in the show, it's time for your song choices to be a little less … scattered."
"Ya said it was good to show range."
She nodded quickly, agreeing. "Yes, absolutely. And you've proved to be quite versatile. But," she cleared her throat, looking at him just to avoid having to look at one of the cameras. "While it is important to showcase your depth as an artist, you need to work on doing so intelligently."
She held her breath for a beat as she waited for his response, but when he provided none, she continued. "I know you're used to being in a band, and songs like 'Hot for Teacher' are fun and get the crowd moving, but this competition is about you winning - not a band. D-do you know what kind of artist you want to be?" She hesitated, then added, "It's hard for me to help you if you can't answer that question. And I know you probably think I can't help you anyway because our differing specialities, but …"
"S'not that." He shook his head. "M'not cultured or whatever, but I ain't deaf, either." It felt like he was staring right through her. "You're amazing."
She blushed at the compliment, but the way he diverted his attention off of her and to the crew took precedent. He had more to say, but wasn't comfortable doing so on film. And while she knew it was going to be a fight, she asked for five minutes alone with Noah. It wasn't usually allowed because the crew wanted as much footage as they could get during the sessions so they'd have a lot to work with in the editing room. Plus, they would obviously assume anything she didn't want them to capture on film was going to be juicy/good for ratings. And there was also the giant red flag waving in her head that reminded her being alone in a room with Noah might not be the best thing for her. Nonetheless, it happened and she smiled when she watched most of the tension melt from his shoulders almost instantly.
"No offense, but I know enough about the show to know it's just a popularity contest."
She conceded with a nod. "You're absolutely right. It's a network show and there is a particular demographic watching and voting. So, yes, you do have to play the game here to a degree. But … play your game." Her hands waved in front of her, gesturing to the area around them. "This isn't American Idol. That contract at the end is yours. You won't be given a personality or a sound. It's your contract, to use to become your kind of artist."
Rachel had been a fan of the show long before she was asked to be one of the judges. It was in its eighth season domestically, and she'd watched since the first because it showcased real talent, chosen - at least originally - based on that talent alone. She was inspired when a soulful singer who maybe didn't look the part got all four chairs to turn. She loved that even the people who didn't win got a chance to promote themselves, their skills. Win or lose, the show was an open door for everyone who auditioned, and sometimes all you needed was that foot through.
"Don't think of this show as selling out. Think of it as your chance to get everything you've ever wanted."
His head ducked down a little bit, his gaze reaching hers only through the tops of his eyes. "What if I want you?"
She blinked at him in a daze, her mouth opening but producing no sound. She tried two more times with the same result.
"You're kinda hilarious," he chuckled.
She wasn't sure if he was complimenting her or making fun of her, but when he changed his song to "Waiting for a Girl Like You" by Foreigner, she really didn't care one way or the other.
She'd lost one of her contestants last week, and now she had another one in the bottom three this week: Noah. She felt responsible considering the coaches picked the songs for the performers, and hopefully that was excuse enough for her to use every single one of her social media accounts with more vigor than she ever had before. In the end it was enough to earn him the instant save (by quite a large margin), and she wasn't even acting for the cameras when she slumped down into her seat in relief.
Rachel listened to his performance just like she always did, noting the talent and doing her best not to daydream about him serenading her - or using those long fingers that strummed his guitar to instead play her instrument. However, after living the nightmare of him being in the bottom three, her focus was just a bit more tunneled. Hopefully others hadn't noticed, but Noah's success in the competition had become far more important to her than any of the others, including her two remaining contestants. And, while the song he'd just performed was lovely and certainly within his range, she wasn't doing him any favors by not voicing the concerns that were echoing louder and louder in her mind.
"Ya didn't like it."
"No. No, I mean, yes! Of course, I did." She sighed, stepping off her stool because she couldn't possibly sit still while trying to figure out the best way to explain her apprehension. "I just think you can do better." It felt like an empty insult, so she tried to smooth the edges with some vulnerability. "I don't ever want you on the bottom again."
His smirk was dangerous. "I don't mind s'long as a girl's on top."
Her pacing stopped and she lifted her eyes in exasperation. While their time together was mostly limited to their rehearsals and bits and pieces before/during/after the shows, she'd come to understand this part of his personality. He used his sex appeal as a weapon, though she wasn't naive enough to think he wouldn't make good on any of the lewd things she'd heard spew from his mouth since their first introduction. She also couldn't deny that she'd be unopposed to the idea, but that wasn't what either of them needed right now. Instead, she had to focus on the other part of his personality that she'd come to understand, the Noah to his more exuberant Puck.
Puck was how the other contestants addressed him, how he prefered to be greeted because, as she saw it, it was all based on this badass persona he'd created long ago. Puck was the guy who could sleep with any girl he wanted, then write a song about it to entice a new girl to sleep with him. Noah, however, was different. She'd only seen him briefly, and at some of the most random moments, but he was there. He was the guy who'd voiced his worry about his song choice to her in front of a celebrity. He was the one who'd looked beyond relieved when Rachel's chair had turned around in the Blind Auditions. And he was the one who had something to prove not just to a small town in Ohio but to himself.
"I know you have stage presence," she started, tentatively walking closer to him. It allowed her to lower her voice a bit, but the proximity also managed to calm the nerves she felt building - which made no sense given the fact that she still thrilled at the concept of being near him. "You're too charming and attractive to not."
His resulting smirk was deeper than before, and she tried to completely forget that there were three cameras in the room watching her as well as a fully staffed band. She reasoned that if she was really able to pull the Noah out of him, then it would be good for the show. They'd already highlighted almost everyone else on the show, each having their own unique story. Some came on the show to chase a dream they'd put on hold for whatever reason - family, death, money. Some were young and music was their passion. Noah's story, however, had been very limited, and she wondered if it was because he hadn't told it yet.
"But you're too stiff on stage," she finally declared, expecting his hardened expression. She was too far in to stop now, though. "And my guess is it's because you aren't a soloist."
Rachel knew the type. It was second-nature to someone in a band, even someone who was considered the lead, to share the stage. Bands were like families, only they didn't just gather for holidays or an occasional vacation or reunion. Good bands spent almost all their time together: writing music, practicing, performing, touring. To be successful, it was a lifetime commitment that sometimes still wasn't enough to make it big. But that wasn't every band's goal, and she knew it wasn't Noah's. They'd talked before about how he really wasn't on the show to necessarily win or become famous. So that really only left one question unanswered.
"Why are you here, Noah?"
She could see the way his jaw clenched, could sense him battling with himself on what, if anything, he wanted to say. She knew her question had been the right one, the one he'd evaded until now, and she couldn't help but feel some pride in the notion that he looked to be actually considering telling her. To know they'd developed that kind of relationship in their short time together, where he trusted her enough to open up about things he hadn't told anyone else, validated not just her capabilities as a coach but also the seemingly impossible dream that perhaps the less professional feelings she had for him weren't completely one-sided.
"I was in a band." He cleared his throat, yet his voice didn't raise much higher than how low it had started. "Since high school, actually. Small town … friends forever." He shrugged to suggest he was aware of the cliche, but it was really just a preamble to the next part. "We played dive bars and shit like that to get by, and it was fun. Jammin' with the boys and pickin' up chicks. It was the dream."
When Noah finally looked up, Rachel's breath caught in her throat. She'd never seen him look so conflicted, so torn from different emotions that she barely could recognize his usual Lothario-self. "What happened?"
"About a year ago, Finn died." His words were so blunt, but his voice wavered enough that she understood he still hated saying the words. "He was my best friend, the one who started the band and everything; played drums and did vocals with me. He … he was a good guy, too." Puck shook his head, looking down once more. "Way better than me."
She could feel her heart breaking into a million pieces, wanting to assure him that he was a good guy, too, but knowing that would only lessen the compliment paid to his deceased friend. Regardless, she couldn't help herself from trying to give some form of comfort, and not all the cameras in the world could have stopped her, either. Slowly, just in case he wasn't interested, she cleared the last couple of feet between them and waited for his eyes to lift back up to hers. Then, as soon as she saw those watery hazel depths look not just at her but seemingly through her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled herself against him. She sighed when she felt his arms encircle her waist in return, his warm breath against the spot on her neck where he'd buried his face nearly melting her insides.
"I'm so sorry, Noah." She spoke into his ear because she selfishly wasn't ready to let him go yet. And when she felt him start to unravel from around her, she compensated by letting one of her hands envelop his much larger one.
"He was the one who always helped me make sense of stuff. And, I dunno, I guess music is the only thing left that makes any sense."
She squeezed his hand to gain his attention, wanting him not to be embarrassed by admitting something that was one of the most honest things she'd ever heard in her life. "I think that's very relatable, Noah. And … I think he'd be honored." She understood when he looked away again, but she had one final note to make, so she tugged on his hand once more and gave him a small smile when he faced her yet again. "Forget the ratings and the audience and the competition and … just play for him."
He nodded slowly, dislodging his hand from hers only to stand and place a gentle kiss on the side of her cheek. It couldn't have lasted for more than a second, but the feel of his soft, warm lips burned against her skin far longer than the remainder of the rehearsal.
In one short night - that was actually really, really long considering how much stake the network had in the success of this show and how willing they were to let it block not one but two nights of primetime television - absolutely everyone fell in love with Noah.
He'd ended up performing covers of Springsteen's "No Surrender" and then a rousing arrangement of "Only the Good Die Young" by Billy Joel. She obviously knew the meaning behind both choices, the significance of the lyrics and even the artists. But he'd also filmed a short featurette that played between the two sets that gave the audience a bit of backstory; it wasn't everything, as many of the details were still held close to the vest, but it was enough that when paired with his talent everyone was convinced he deserved a chance to win.
Even Noah.
Rachel smiled to herself when she heard the loud burst of laughter as she walked toward the main stage, her smile fading and steps stopping abruptly when she saw the source of the amusement.
"What are you doing here?"
There was a moment of silence while Artie, one of the guitarists, looked between the other bandmates and then finally to Noah, saying, "I'm pretty sure she's talking to you, dude. We work here."
Noah used one of his most charming smiles before responding, "I've got like an hour before last call."
She narrowed her gaze on him before addressing the bandmates. "You shouldn't be encouraging his delinquency."
"Aw, come on, Rach," Sam whined, using his infamous puppy-dog eyes to try to defuse the situation. "We were just messin' around." Then his eyes sparkled, mischief taking over his expression. "Don't act like that's not why you're early, too."
She tried to mask her amusement, placing her hands firmly on her hips, but she felt the corners of her mouth start to turn upward before she finally gave up with a sigh. "Had I known you extend your company to just anybody, perhaps I wouldn't have bothered."
Noah nudged her with his shoulder when she came to stand next to him, smirking down at her. "Funny runnin' into the likes of you 'round here."
"Why is that?" She tried to make the question seem casual, but there was a bite to her tone considering the mockery she heard in his - mockery she's heard in many others' tones many other times in her life.
Perhaps sensing her defensiveness, he simply shrugged before answering, "Most people seem to think these guys don't exist."
"Rach ain't most people," Artie answered for her, smiling affectionately at his friend. "She actually got Sam the job, and she always works the band into at least one of her answers for any interview."
Rachel blushed at the attention, though she supposed her attitude had asked for it. "You guys deserve it. Week after week you learn every single song, not to mention how hard you work to keep the audience engaged during commercial breaks and such." She rolled her eyes at the band's collective dramatics of flattery. "You don't get nearly as much recognition as you should, is my point."
"S'not fair people think you're such a bitch." Her eyes widened in shock before Noah amended his thought. "Sorry. Diva sounds better."
She smiled in spite of the harshness of the truth. She certainly had a reputation, one that she'd carried with her through her formative years and one that only seemed to grow exponentially with her success. But, while she'd grown accustomed to the label and had moved on from letting it get her down, she appreciated any opportunity to hear the opposite. Especially from someone whose opinion of her mattered maybe even more than the industry's.
"But s'true. You're super cool, chill … real." His shrug at the end didn't stop the guys from catcalling and whistling - nor did it stop her from blushing for the rest of the night.
Rachel sat behind the control table, adjusting some of the sound levels as she waited for Noah to make his way into the room from the studio. She'd lost her other contestant last week, but she was comforted by the fact that she still had him - professionally speaking, of course; he wasn't a possession. He was a man. A wonderful, sexy, talented …
"Sound good?"
She jolted at his appearance, nodding frantically as if the movement was enough to distract from her wayward thoughts. Not that he could actually read her mind, but they'd been spending so much time together lately that she was starting to feel like he could. "Good isn't enough anymore, Noah. You must be great. We must be great."
He hummed in agreement, but his smirk was much less serious than her tone. "Performance anxiety, babe?"
"No," she huffed, all the tension coming out with the breath of air. She rolled her eyes at his soft chuckle, pulling out a folder with the scheduling details for the final week. "I'm not the one who had to learn our duet overnight." She smiled at his casual shrug, accepting the lighthearted challenge. "I'm not the one who still has to shoot a video for the original song he just learned a few days ago. I'm not the one who has to perform two group numbers complete with mid-level choreography with his competitors in four days." She paused for only a second, twisting the figurative knife. "I'm not the one who will be singing alongside a band I've idolized since I was a young, Mohawk-sporting troublemaker."
Rachel laughed at how quickly his expression morphed from smug to bashful to the childlike glee she'd first seen when she'd originally revealed his famous performing partners. She'd never seen him so openly happy - not related to flirting or anything remotely sexual - and she liked it. She liked him. It went beyond just attraction, too, which made it a million times worse because somehow it just made the sexual tension between them increase tenfold. They were scheduled to spend an obscene amount of time together to prepare for the final show, and she honestly wasn't sure she'd be able to make it through their duet; singing had always been somewhat of an aphrodisiac to her, and with Noah she was certain it would be closer to foreplay.
"Ready?" He chuckled at her blank stare, nodding his head toward the sound booth as if to help jog her memory. "I need you now."
Her mocking laughter at his lame attempt to apply the lyrics of their duet to this situation came out far too breathy, her legs shaking as she followed him to practice the Lady Antebellum song. Rachel knew she had to focus, if only because how well they did together played a role in how Noah fared on the show. And she'd never skirt her responsibilities as coach for something as frivolous as (mind-blowing) sex … with the most beautiful man she'd ever seen in person (and otherwise), but she was reaching her breaking point; she either needed to never see him again or see him very naked for a very, very long time.
Of course the finals show was the longest episode of the season. But, even if it didn't feel like it went on for eternity, time seemed to completely stop as she watched performance after performance with a practiced engaged expression even though her mind was a million miles away. What if he won? What happened next? What if he didn't win? Then what? She was thinking herself in circles, so emotionally dizzy that she was physically shaking once Carson finally lined everyone up on the main stage to read the results.
The first contestant eliminated was one of Adam's girls, and Rachel knew she was in trouble when her heart leapt in relief; luckily her face was trained to show the appropriate remorse, but even that wasn't strong enough to pull her gaze away from Noah. It was left to just him, Blake's country guy, and Adam's other girl, and Rachel honestly had no idea who was going to win. The audience's choice could never be predicted - jury of your peers, and all that - and no amount of respect and adoration for Noah could keep her from denying either one of the other two's talents. But, still, her heart stopped when Adam's other girl was the next to go and it was left to just Noah and Blake's contestant.
Again time seemed to stop, and she must have held her breath for a full minute before Carson revealed the winner of this season's show. It wasn't Noah, and she managed to exhale and gasp at the same time while he stood proud and accepted condolences from the others as the celebration started. Confetti fell from the ceiling and the winner had a sweet moment with his family while singing his new single, but Rachel couldn't help but to hone in on Noah. She wished not for the first time since working with him that she knew him better, knew how to read him better. He was being a good sport, talking and laughing with everyone who'd migrated onto the stage, but then again his goal never was to win.
As if making up for all the lost time while taping, Rachel seemed to have blinked and ended up in her dressing room, cleaned up and dressed in a completely different outfit. Every year there was an epic final show after-party where all the judges, crew members, bandmates, contestants and even VIP audience members celebrated another great season - all while the network executives and other powers that be were probably finalizing everything for next season. It was a tradition she knew she couldn't flake out on, but from the knocking on her door, she figured her manager was going to drive that point home one more time. Just in case.
"Hi."
Yet again, Rachel felt her breath escape her. Leaning against the doorframe, looking better than ever (which was really something she'd been saying - to herself - too much in regards to his appearance) was not her manager, but rather Noah. And even though he was dripping his usual swagger, his voice completely cool and collected (as much as possible in a monosyllabic uttering), she couldn't help her emotions from getting the best of her. Her exhale came out more like a sob, and she pulled him into her dressing room before having a complete breakdown for everyone to see.
"I'm so sorry, Noah." She attempted to wipe gently underneath her eyes to keep from smearing her newly applied makeup, but she couldn't stop herself from crying. "You should have won. I should have done more, done something better." She huffed out a breath, shaking her head. "You're amazing. So, so talented and such a good person and …"
"Hey, hey, hey," he hushed her with his words, but more so with the gentle way his thumb swept across her cheek to catch the falling moisture. She hiccuped at the sensation, basking in the warmth of his touch as it cascaded down her face to the tops of her bare shoulders. His soft squeeze forced her gaze upward, her eyes widening at the realization of how close they were. There was so much written in his expression, swimming in his eyes. They were just inches apart, inches that meant nothing when she rocked on her heels and pressed her lips to his. She shook from the jolt of electricity that coursed through her, but then completely melted into his arms when he eagerly kissed her back, his strong arms circling around her waist and holding her flush to him.
Rachel wasn't sure how long they remained like that, kissing and touching and learning, but she knew the next knock at her door was definitely her manager. Reluctantly, she pulled away, feeling her heart and stomach sink further and further in relation to the distance that grew between them. Luckily, Noah was quick to wrap one of his large hands around her wrist to bring her back against him, smirking after she squeaked in surprise. "Feels like a win to me."
She giggled uncharacteristically, allowing him to lead her lips back to his with little care to anyone and anything outside of her door. It was a feeling she was growing accustomed to ever since meeting Noah - since first hearing him sing. In fact, ever since she'd pressed her button to turn her chair, the words that lit up at the bottom where the only three words that perfectly summarized how she felt for him.
"I want you."