Title: Maybe Baby
Pairing: Rachel Berry/Noah 'Puck' Puckerman
Summary: AU. Rachel Berry is 22, straight out of Julliard and ready for the bright lights of Broadway. That is until she meets a certain Mohawked bartender and his daughter.
A/N: So, I've decided to jump on the Glee fanfiction bandwagon. About time, I must say. I'm still getting into the way everything's paced and am in desperate need of a beta, so sorry if anyone seems OOC and for any mistakes. PS. For my GG readers, updates are coming! Cheers!
If there were one thing that Rachel Berry hated about New York (not that she could really find any fault with the Big Apple considering that it was the home for her future stardom), it would have to be the traffic.
Thirty minutes later and her cab was still stuck in the same lane with the sound of blaring horns and people yelling from their cars beginning to merge into a throbbing headache. She sighed, knowing full well that being late to Kurt's launch party would result in her best friend launching - no pun intended - into a diva fit about him never being allowed to be late to any of her events and that was most definitely the last thing she needed at the moment.
"Excuse me," she asked politely yet with a sense of urgency laced in her voice, "but is there anyway you could somehow manage to get to Club Sunday before it actually does become Sunday?"
"Listen lady, 'm doing the best I can 'ere. Traffic's all the way 'till Brooklyn so if you wanna get to club Monday or Tuesday or 'hatever, then I suggest you walk," the cab driver replied angrily, flashing her a scowl in the rearview mirror.
Rachel grunted and sunk into the backseat, crossing her arms over her chest as she whipped out her phone from her bag and began to text Kurt furiously, her fingers thumping with ever key that she pressed.
Sorry K, am gnna b late. Trffics like Wicked w/o Idina – HORRIBLE. B der soon. R xx.
It took Kurt no longer than ten seconds to reply.
R, hurry up n get here or else u'll never c Broadway again. K xx.
Rachel sighed and felt a singe of hope as the cab began to move, but her anticipation soon fell short as it stopped once more, only a few metres from where it previously was.
"By the way," Rachel spoke up, her cab driver turning around to face her. "It was Club Sunday."
It took Rachel a solid thirty minutes extra to arrive at Club Sunday, and granted that she probably could've walked to it, her anger grew when her cab driver asked for the exact amount as he couldn't provide her with change.
"Just keep the change," she muttered angrily, throwing the hundred-dollar bill onto the front seat and spinning on her heel, ready to enter the club. The line to Club Sunday stretched far onto the next block and Rachel felt privileged knowing that by the time all these people entered the club, she'd already be inside, no doubt socializing and being the charmer that she was. She strode to the bouncer – the rather tall and buff and intimidating looking bouncer – and flashed her Tony ready smile and said proudly, "Rachel Berry. I'm on the list."
The bouncer's face remained blank as he, to Rachel's surprise, looked through the list (she had of course expected her name to be first on the list) and said in a deep voice, "Not on the list. Move to the back of the line."
"But that's absurd. There must be something wrong with your list. I'm practically VIP here considering that my best friend Kurt has hired this club for his launch party that I helped orchestrated. In fact, I was the one who booked this place for him so I find it utterly ridiculous that my name is not present on that list of yours! I demand you check it again!" Rachel shrieked, causing several people in the line to stare at her.
The bouncer remained unscathed and flicked once more, but shook his head and merely pointed to the end of the line.
"This is absolutely preposterous!" Rachel cried out, her anger rising with her voice. "I should be on that list!"
"Woah, busy night, Ed?"
Rachel spun around and found a tall, built man with an incredibly ridiculous Mohawk haircut cocking a smile at her as he lugged his duffel bag over his shoulder.
"You said it," Ed the bouncer replied, and Rachel grunted as being ignored was not something that Rachel Berry was not used too.
"Excuse me, but if I am still standing here, it clearly means that I am not standing inside where I am supposed to be," she said, catching the man rolling his eyes as he threw a chortle.
"Hey, you mind if I go in through this way, Ed?" he asked, pointing towards the entrance. Rachel's mouth opened when Ed shook his head and lifted the velvet rope, allowing for the man to hurry past her, winking at her as he did. "Good look with that feisty one," he yelled as he walked past the doors.
"You let that under dressed man in rip-off designer jeans enter a fashion launch and not me?" Rachel cried out, knowing that a Rachel Berry outburst was well on its way. "This is completely outrageous! I find this situation impertinent and I demand that you – "
"And here I was thinking I was the only diva around here."
Rachel turned to find her best friend standing in the doorway, his eyebrows raised at the sight of her, red cheeked and irritated. Kurt placed a hand on Ed's arm and dragged Rachel with the other, saying in a nonchalant voice, "Don't worry, Ed, she's with me."
As they headed inside the club, Rachel made the point to turn around and reply with a scowl, "I told you so!"
The club was packed with models, photographers and high socialite people that only Kurt Hummel, New York's youngest fashion editor would know. For Rachel, though, she began to feel slightly intimidated, brushing shoulders with leggy, blonde women who seemed to flawless in their appearances. It's okay, she thought to herself, these women will probably be expressionless mannequins when they're fifty, while I remain the natural beauty that I am. It still didn't help though that the blue cocktail dress that she wore felt like a rag compared to the skimpy pieces of materials that the women were wearing.
"Kurt, are all these people models?" Rachel asked, trying to poke her head above the crowd as she swore that she saw Heidi Klum amongst the mix.
"Of course not, my dear. I made the point to invite actors and television stars. Nothing marks a soiree than a group of celebrities thrown together with fine wine and faux paus – just look at what Katie Heigl's wearing. Tres 'orrible, if I must say." Kurt dragged her through the swarm of people, blowing kisses to groups of people and waving loosely at others, whilst she sent them small, shy smiles showing that she was not feeling the animosity in the room.
"Isn't it perfect?" Kurt said adoringly, stopping in front of a large easel that hung the front cover of 'Magnifique', Kurt's baby, as he called it, or simply the latest addition to Vogue. "I told my editor that a pull out fashion section would be the cream on the cake. After all, what girl doesn't want to read fashion on the run, rather than carry around the bulky bible that is Vogue."
"K, it's amazing!" Rachel praised, her first genuine smile of the night lighting up her face. "I think this calls for a drink."
"Fabulous idea! And I know you'd just love to get me my one considering the little…" Kurt's voice droned out as Rachel smirked and walked away from him, calling out behind her, "I was already planning to."
Walking to the bar was simple enough, but trying to buy a drink seemed futile as even though Rachel wore heels, she was still towered over by the crowd.
"Excuse me, excuse me," she murmured, trying to squeeze through, but her pleas were simply ignored as the music and the noisy chatter that echoed throughout the room. There was only so much that she could take and being the diva that she was, Rachel Berry knew that the only way to beat the rush, was to play the game.
"Oh, I'm sorry, was that your foot? – oh, I'm sorry, I'm in a rush – my nan's in the back and she's drying for a drink, what can I say, she's Jewish – I've never worn high heels before…"
"Excuse me," Rachel called out as she finally reached the counter. She could feel her body being pressed against the hard wood and snapped her fingers to garner the attention of the closest bar attendant, when her face fell flat as she came face to face with the same obnoxious man who had rudely cut past her outside.
"Looks like you finally made it in. How'd you manage it?" he asked, a smirk playing on his chiseled features as he leaned across, placing his hands on the countertop.
"It's you!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger at the man. "You pushed past me!"
"Yeah, someone had too. You practically had the line all the way to Cuba."
"I resent that fact. It was a simple misunderstanding," Rachel said, but she paused as realized that she still had to clear up that little misunderstanding with Kurt. Oh, did he have some explaining to do.
"Whatever. What's your mix, babe?" he said nonchalantly.
Rachel gasped. "I'm sorry, but whilst you may consider terms of endearment like 'babe' to be charming, I find them to be completely disrespectful to me as a woman. I, just like any other person, do have a name and it is Rachel Berry, just like yours is," she paused and glanced at his nametag, "Noah."
"Puck."
"Excuse me? I'm sorry but in way do I feel that I deserved that atrocious expletive," Rachel said, folding her arms across her chest. "I suggest you apologize this instant for your outlandish behavior."
"Listen chick, I don't care who you are –"
"Puckerman!" Both Rachel and the bartender turned around to see a burly Euroasian man standing near the drinks, throwing a scowl in their direction. "You give that lady shit and I'll throw you out again faster than you can say 'bad haircut'".
"Don't worry, Ken, I got this covered," Noah said, flashing a wave and turning to face Rachel with a glare, "Lady, I'll get you whatever drink you want, just make it fast and quick."
"I believe you owe me an apology."
"I don't owe you anything. What the hell did I do wrong? The name is 'Puck'. Not Noah. Pu-ck," Puck said, stressing out the syllables in his name, much to his amusement as Rachel squirmed, realizing her mistake. "Now, whilst you may love to holdup lines, I don't have all day and neither does the line behind you, so hurry up and order."
"You are insufferable, Noah. In fact … Ken!" she said in a sing song voice, a gleam of maliciousness in her eyes as she watched Puck's face fall and he rubbed his jaw with his palm. She almost cowered at the fire burning in his eyes that seemed to have 'Rachel Berry rot in hell' written all over them, but she stood firm as Ken made his way towards him, accidentally pushing Puck aside.
"Is there something I can do for you, madam?" Ken asked in a thick drawl that seemed contrasting to his appearance.
"Ah, finally, adequate customer service," Rachel said spitefully, directing those two last words at Puck who seemed ready to kill her with the corkscrew opener in his hand. "I hate to seem like an ungrateful patron, but I'm afraid your bar attendant here has shown me nothing but disrespect with his appalling behavior and discourteous demeanor."
"Oh, is that true, madam?" Ken said, glowering at Puck who had his head buried into his hands. Rachel nodded her head and Ken shoved at Puck who finally looked up, not before looking daggers at Rachel's direction. "Is this true, Puckerman?"
Puck sighed, but even he knew that no matter how hard he tried, this was a losing battle. "Look Ken, I may have said some things, but you know me –"
"Damn straight, I know you," Ken said sharply, throwing the towel around his neck onto the counter. "In fact, one thing I know about you is that you're now fired. Get your things and leave."
"But Ken, I need this job –"
"I don't care what you need. Just get out!" Ken ordered and Puck's hazel eyes stared at Rachel with loathing as he ripped the apron around his waist and threw it to the ground, stepping on top of it with his shoes.
"I'm not fired," Puck said spitefully. "I quit." And with those pungent words, he stormed out, Rachel watching as his figure disappeared behind the swinging doors.
Rachel was baffled, her headache was returning and she had just been the cause of a man to lose his job – not that he didn't deserve it, though, after all he had been rude to her, but then again, she may have overreacted just the tiniest bit. Needless to say, for once in her life, she was rendered speechless, however this only proved momentary as words began to blabber out of her mouth and she found herself scolding Ken for what she deemed as unfair dismissal.
"Listen, sir, don't you think your actions may have been a tad too rash. After all, I am sure that the pressures of having to facilitate for a popular nightclub may be overwhelming …"
As Rachel blabbered on, never seeming to take a breath as normal human beings did, Ken found himself wondering maybe where that damn corkscrew opener that Puck was holding was and how long it would take for him to screw her lips shut.