Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. But I own Puck's obsession with Vikings. So there's that.
Note: Written for honeyprose who wrote an amazing FR one-shot Good Luck to You and the King (which you need to go read NOW) and somehow talked me into writing a companion fic to it from Puck's POV. This is my sad attempt at it.
You'll definitely need to read hers first to get what's going on.
A big THANK YOU & I LOVE YOU BBs to Babs & Shannon for reading this as I was actually writing it cause I was desperate enough for attention to contact them every time I wrote a line.
Life as the Man on the Side
He hates going to the fucking mall.
It's packed and loud and whenever you show up to buy just two things they are always, always, on opposites ends of this gigantic monstrosity of awful lighting and annoying, shitty music.
He hates going to the mall alone.
But whatever, he's picked up the tape he needs for his knee and the vitamin supplements Quinn keeps harping about and he is ready to get the hell out of there.
The thought of going home doesn't appeal to him, though, so he takes out his phone and sends her a text message.
1:17 PM: Hoping 2 c u 2day. Hit me up. Miss u. -P
When she doesn't answer right away (and she always answers right away) he thinks, Yeah, she's still pissed about last night and starts thinking up hot-ass ways to make her forget he totally blew her off to watch the Browns-Vikings game with Matt.
His ideas start getting pretty fucking sick, and he grins to himself because he knows he can talk her into at least half of them. As he turns to head out to the parking lot, he remembers his sister bitching and moaning about orange juice this morning so he decides he might as well swing by the grocery store 'cause it's a block away from her house.
And then he sees them.
- - -
The mall is fucking packed for the holidays but Finn will always be easy to pick out of a crowd. And today it's not even because of his height, but the sickeningly happy look on his face as he stares at Rachel from his side of the coffee shop booth.
His first thought is But Rachel hates coffee.
And then the reality of the situation hits him and he realizes she didn't miss the text, she just flat-out ignored it. Because she is with Finn. Bitch.
She finishes nibbling on her muffin (and he can't help the validation he feels when he sees she doesn't have any coffee in front of her) and they get up and head out of the coffee shop holding hands, and he doesn't even make the conscious decision to follow them like a fucking stalker. He just does it.
They walk into the bookstore and he rolls his eyes. He walks along the shelves, always an aisle behind them and he wonders how obvious it will look if they see him and he tries to play it off as a coincidence.
Still, he needs to know what the fuck she thinks she's doing. So he calls her.
He can hear her phone ring from where he stands, hiding behind a pillar like some fucking creepy pervert.
Even in the crowded bookstore, 'Sex On Fire' rings out loud and clear, and Finn starts bopping his head to the song like it's something she's playing for him.
Answer it he challenges her silently. But then she clamps her hand around her pocket to muffle the noise, to mute him out of this harmonious duet she's creating with Finn, and something in him burns. White and hot.
Finn keeps looking through books as though if he concentrates hard enough, the squiggly lines will form patterns and messages that relay some kind of information. Rachel's trailing her hand lightly over the spines of them. For someone who claims to be vocal, it is her sense of touch that he knows gets her through the worst of it.
I don't know what this means, he tells her and she trails her hands across his bare chest.
Let's not talk about this now, he says and she plays nervously the loose threads of his comforter.
I'll call you he lies and she runs her hands silently along the cool wood of the windowsill as he climbs out.
Now he notes that her other hand is still fastened tight around the bulge in her pocket and he takes slight comfort in the knowledge that she at least remembers him enough to feel ashamed of him.
When Finn drops the book in his hands and turns to her with his "I'm kind of an idiot, isn't it adorable" smile and asks her if they can bounce, Puck resolves to go the fuck home and stop being a pathetic asshole.
He follows them out of the bookstore.
- - -
Finn's walking away and Rachel is slumped down on a bench and Puck obviously missed something, but then again, maybe he didn't and this is really just another performance of Finn Hudson Acts like a Giant Ass and No One Is Going to Call Him on It, Least Of All Her. It's the same thing over and over again. He doesn't care how her GPA is double his because she is a fucking idiot if she thinks this routine is going to change.
The fact that he probably treats her way worse is not lost on him, but shit, she lets him know how little she thinks of him. But with Finn, it's like the harder he kicks her away the more eager she is to go scampering back after him.
He watches her, sitting dejectedly on the bench and his feels a vindictive sense of justice in seeing her frown, fighting the tears away. And then it all changes when her hand strays to her phone and something in him sings at the thought of her calling him, asking him to come get her, make her feel better. He cringes at how easily he goes from being mad and revelling in her misery and then she wavers, just barely, and he goes to tensing up just waiting to spring back to her.
But her hand hesitates and eventually goes back to drumming fingers against her thigh and he knows she'd much rather be miserable alone than miserable with him, even though he feels the exact opposite.
She doesn't get up from the bench and he doesn't step around the corner he is hiding behind, like a game of emotionally retarded chicken, except he's the only sad idiot actually playing.
And then Finn pops back into his line of sight. He says something to Rachel and she is so obviously pretending that it doesn't hurt. She has that sad, shiny smile of hers that says "I am feeling awful but I am going to smile through the pain and please, don't say anything and just let me." Even though she uses that look on him more than he cares to admit, he knows that Finn Hudson is the reason that look first came into the world.
Finn shuffles around a bit, shows her something in the bag he's carrying and she smiles at him, a real smile that's bright and forgiving. And fuck, maybe it's the apologizing that gives Finn the edge over him because god knows he's never even tried apologizing to her for everything he puts her though.
I'm sorry I forgot we had plans.
I'm sorry I ruin everything I touch and you are no exception.
I'm sorry I say things that I know will hurt you.
I'm sorry that I do things that I know will you hurt you even more.
I'm sorry that I act like it's all about the sex.
I'm sorry that it's not, but that one's more of an apology to himself, really.
Finn gets up and sticks out his hand to her and she takes it, obviously, he knows she would but it doesn't burn any less and the happy couple scamper off towards the food court like they don't have a care in the world.
And that's maybe what kills him the most. As Finn carries an ice cream cone to her (and really, ice cream during a Midwestern winter, it's so quirky he wants to fucking puke) they look so goddamn normal that it itches. They're blushing and laughing and nobody around them seems to realize how wrong it all is.
Rachel Berry is not normal and damn it, when is she going to stop trying to be so desperately?
So that's when he leaves. Because more than wanting him, more than wanting Finn, this girl just wants to be normal and she's smart enough at least to know she'll never find that with him. He's proven that much to her time and again.
I'll never get poetry from you, will I?
Are you saying I'm too fucking dumb to rhyme? My name is Puck and I like to fu-
Never mind. Forget I asked.
And Finn might be a moron on his best days but if what she wants now, if what she needs now, is someone that can love her with the kind of enthusiasm that Finn loves everything with, then what is there left to do?
- - -
He gets into the cab of his truck and sits there for who knows how long before sending her another text.
5:30 PM: Nvmd Santana called. Maybe another time B. – P.
He gets home and barely keeps it together when his little sister berates him for forgetting the fucking orange juice.
"Are you retarded?" she asks, slamming the fridge door shut after grabbing a carton of cranberry juice from it. He can almost forgive her anger cause, man, is that shit disgusting.
"Yeah, well, you were an accident," he mutters, heading for the stairs.
"Just like your baby," she throws back and he almost gasps at it. It shouldn't even surprise him anymore, what a hateful little thing she's become because, Christ, he's the hateful piece of shit who basically raised her.
He really does ruin everything he touches.
He foregoes dinner and tries to take a nap, but his whole body is buzzing with a weird, nervous anxiety that he's only ever experienced under the influence of chemical substances.
He starts jerking off to an old Hustler, but flings it away and focuses on the image of her soft thighs and when he comes in his hand, he's pretty sure he knows what rock bottom feels like.
It's in that post-orgasmic depression that he falls into a fitful sleep, only to wake up to the ping of his phone.
9:42 PM: Sorry, I wasn't feeling well today.
She hardly ever lies but maybe he's finally rubbing off on her.
He hesitates with what to write back.
Wtv I don't care.
It's cool San lemme go in thru her backdoor ;)
Plz dont turn into me, ur better than this.
He's suddenly so fucking tired that his bones ache. Tired of trying to play this game with her that he likes to think he's winning but only because she lets him write the rules. Like no matter what he does to her, it won't really matter in the long run. Hell, he's not surprised if doesn't matter to her now.
She tries so damn hard to keep her entire life in these neat, labelled boxes and he's the one she keeps tucked away from all the rest of the good stuff.
This is school. This is family. This is Glee. This is friends. This is love. And that, way over there, is the mistake I keep making.
So he rides this wave of anger and writes back.
9:46 PM: Sorry 2 hear that. I hear ice cream the mall helps.
Because he's not going to stay in that fucked up little box she keeps for him anymore.
And update to It Goes Down Easy is in the works, so all of you waiting for if (all 6 ofyou), don't fret.
R & R, please.