A/N: I neglected to mention that this story will be five chapters. Thanks for all the alerts and favorites, and a special thank you to those who left anonymous reviews as I'm unable to reply to them directly. I'm always so excited to hear what you all think!
He wakes up super fucking early on Monday morning, almost an hour before his alarm is set to go off, because he's like, excited to get to work.
Or to see Rachel. Kind of the same difference.
It's fucking stupid, really, because it's not like he gets to hang out with her. He'll have five minutes or whatever to talk to her between the end of the lesson and when she leaves, and that's enough to make him wake up early. Yeah, she's that hot.
He spent most of the weekend texting back and forth with her, talking about trivial shit and joking around and making innuendo that she flat-out told him she was going to ignore. He would have just gone over there and taken her out or whatever, but the weekend manager at his mom's cafe was out of town, so he had to keep an eye on his little sister while his mom worked.
But if he's learned anything over the years, going after girls for himself and being friends with Santana, it's that the little things can tell you a lot about a person.
She's a vegetarian, but she doesn't eat eggs because she had a 'traumatic experience' involving them. She's going to Julliard in the fall, and her ultimate goal is to land a starring role on Broadway. That's a whole world of shit he doesn't know anything about, frankly, but now he can name about half a dozen different shows that she loves or wants to be in. (Which is half a dozen more shows than he even knew existed before this weekend.) She's the only child of two gay dads, which he's kind of interested in, but he doesn't ask in case it's rude.
He doesn't ask if she has a boyfriend, mostly because he doesn't care. She just doesn't seem like the kind of girl who would cheat on a dude and lead another guy on like this. At least, he hopes she's not, 'cause that would piss him off.
Fuck, maybe he should ask her.
"You hit that Friday night?"
It's the first thing Santana says when he walks into the office at the pool. Puck doesn't know how she convinced her dad that the female lifeguards wearing these two-piece suits was a good idea, but he's not complaining, even if she's giving him shit when she's perched on the counter wearing it. Seriously, it's a damn shame that she doesn't want cock, because he'd give it to her good, best friend or not.
"I'm taking my time, Lopez. Let me work."
She scoffs, hopping down off the counter and walking out of the office. "Pussy," she calls behind her.
"Who's a pussy?" Matt asks, coming in and dropping his keys.
"Me, apparently. Except if I was actually a pussy, she'd have fucked me by now."
Matt just shakes his head, snagging his whistle from where it hangs on the hook on the wall and walking out of the office before Puck can say anything else. He's gotten caught in the middle of Puck and Santana's bickering matches before, so Puck can't really blame the dude for clearing out.
He spends the entire lesson trying really hard to focus on the dozen little kids in front of him instead of watching Rachel. She's wearing another little sundress, her hair in one of those messy bun things chicks always do, and her eyes hidden behind the same over-sized sunglasses she's always wearing. It's just really difficult to care about these little kids when she's just sitting over there, looking all hot with her legs and shit on display.
He doesn't even bother pretending that he isn't dying to talk to her after he dismisses the kids, just hoists himself out of the pool and walks straight over to where she's helping Stacy squeeze some of the water out of her blonde hair with a towel. "Hey."
She smiles up at him. "Hi."
He leans in a little so the kids can't hear (they aren't paying attention anyhow) when he says, "Come over tonight."
"Do you ever ask people to do things?" she laughs. "Or do you just tell them?"
He shrugs. "If you don't want to, just say so." He doesn't really see any reason to ask questions when he's pretty sure he already knows the answer, and he's pretty sure she wants to hang out with him. Maybe not quite as much as he wants to hang out with (bang) her, but still. "My mom has that Funny Girl movie you said I had to watch, so I figured we could watch it together."
She looks up at him for a minute, and he wishes she wasn't wearing sunglasses so he could read the expression in her eyes. "All right," she says after a moment. Stacy starts tugging on her arm, asking about lunch. "Text me directions to your house?"
He nods, then stands there and watches her ass as she walks away.
It turns out that watching a musical with Rachel is like, the cutest fucking thing ever, or maybe it's just because this is her favorite. She warned him when they sat down that this wasn't going to be just an opportunity for him to 'try something,' because she takes any showing of Funny Girl very seriously, and he can tell that she really isn't kidding. It's kind of like watching movies used to be with his sister, when Abby was about six and got completely sucked into every single thing she watched. Rachel sort of hums along with the songs, and he can actually tell she's just dying to sing along.
She's the one who starts moving closer, curling her legs up onto the couch beside her and kind of leaning into his side. She takes his hand when he puts it on her thigh (innocently, really), weaves their fingers together without looking at him at all.
She leans her head against his shoulder when the credits roll, letting out this little sigh. "I love that movie."
"I can tell." He moves his thumb back and forth over her wrist. Her hands are really small, like the rest of her, and her skin is super soft. "You sing any of those songs?"
"Yes," she answers simply, looking up at him with this little smile on her face, like she's keeping a secret or something. "Thank you for watching it with me."
He has to kiss her. He has to.
He keeps it gentle, thinking to ease her in before he really goes for it. Her lips are really fucking soft, and she makes this tiny little noise in the back of her throat, squeezing his hand gently before she pulls away.
Wait. Pulls away?
"I have to get home," she whispers, looking at him from beneath her eyelashes. "I'm sorry."
She squeezes his hand again before she stands up, leaning over to grab her things from the table in front of them. "One of your favorites next time?" she offers. She's standing in front of him, looking at him like she already knows what he's going to say.
He stands up, slips a hand into her hair, and leans down to brush his lips over hers. "Tomorrow?"
Her breath fans out over his cheek when she laughs, her arms coming around his waist as she leans in to hug him. "Wednesday, at the Evans'. They go to church," she explains when he pulls back and looks at her. "I'll be alone all evening."
He walks her out to her (Sam's, actually) car, resists the urge to pin her against the side of it and kiss her until neither of them can breathe.
It's a fucking shock, but he thinks he can wait.
He sat through an entire movie musical with her and didn't try a single thing.
It's strange, for her at least, that she feels disappointed by that.
She spends all of Wednesday morning's swimming lesson watching him, holding up a book like she's reading but not trying to fool herself any more. She resists, but all she wants to do when he follows Stacy and Stevie over after their lesson is kiss him, really kiss him like she didn't on Monday night.
She lingers with him by the pool, taking advantage of an opportunity to flirt afforded by Stacy and Stevie chattering with Matt, whom she's learned is also a friend of Sam's and someone who's spent a fair amount of time at the Evans home.
"What are we watching tonight?" she asks, setting her bag on the concrete at her feet when Matt instigates a jousting match between Stacy and Stevie using foam noodles on the other side of the pool.
"The Departed. Have you seen it?" She shakes her head. "Are you gonna be pissed about lots of swearing and people getting shot in the head?"
"Not if it serves a purpose," she answers honestly.
Well, if she's being really honest, she isn't terribly interested in watching the movie at all. She kind of just wants to get him alone.
She tells him that later, when they're sitting on the couch in the media room and Regina has just told them that the family is leaving.
He grins, turning his body towards hers. "Yeah?" She nods, catching the front of his tee shirt in her hand when he kisses her, teasing at her lips for a moment before pulling back. "What are you gonna do now that you got what you want?"
She bites her lip, tightening her grip on his shirt and tugging until he gets the hint and kisses her again. She traces his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, moans quietly into his mouth when he opens it for her.
God, he's good at this. His hand slips around the back of her neck, his thumb teasing the skin at her hairline as their lips move together, and the whole thing makes her brain feel a little fuzzy. Deliciously so. It's been too long since she's had this, felt like this, but it's easy to sink into it.
He moves her so she's sitting across his lap, one hand on her thigh and the other resting against the skin left bare by her dress between her shoulder blades, his fingertips moving slightly, just stroking there. She hums against his lips, pushing herself just a little closer to him. She'd like to straddle him thighs and push their hips together, but she's determined to keep things slow, no matter how much she wants him.
It's kind of hard to believe how much she wants him, this boy she's known for barely a week.
They watch basically none of the movie, which is actually something of a shame. She watched a trailer online and knows that the movie won the Oscar for Best Picture, and she thinks that it's something she might actually enjoy. But this is better, Puck tugging his fingers through her hair, trailing his lips over her neck, sucking gently at her collarbone until she whimpers.
She pulls away from him when the sound of gunshots coming from the television ring through the room, presses her forehead against his as she laughs breathlessly. "We're ridiculous."
"We're hot," he insists, sinking his hand into the back of her hair so he can tip her head back and kiss along her jaw. "You smell so fucking good, Rachel."
She lets out a heavy breath before she kisses him, her tongue sliding against his. He's making her a little crazy. "They'll be home soon," she mumbles against his lips.
"Don't care." She does, so she puts her hands on his chest and leans away from him. "Fine." He pushes her (gently) out of his lap, watching with dark eyes when she presses her fingertips to her lips. "I have to go," he says abruptly. "I can't...I have to go."
She nods. "Okay."
He stands up and starts to walk away from the couch, then comes back, leans down, and kisses her hard. "I'll call you."
"Okay," she repeats. She watches him walk away, actually hears the front door close when he leaves.
She's still lying on the leather couch in the basement when the family gets home, her lips tingling and her imagination running away with her while she considers the things Puck might be able to do with his hands and his mouth if she let him.
When Santana texts him on Saturday afternoon to tell him that they're all going to the piano bar that night, Puck knows it's perfect for Rachel. Matt's parents own the place, so it's not like they can use their fakes and drink or anything, but it's actually a lot of fun sober, which surprised Puck the first time they all went a couple months ago (after Santana finally turned eighteen). It's dueling pianos and a dude playing drums, and the guy who's in charge of the music will let people get up and sing if he knows they don't totally suck or they give him enough money.
It's kind of become a thing.
So he calls Rachel, gives her the details about the place (leaving out just a couple of things), and tells her he'll pick her up at nine.
She's coming down the stairs when he lets himself in at the Evans' house, dressed in skinny jeans and a loose, silky looking black tank top with silver heels that are legit covered in glitter. Her eye makeup looks different than he's ever seen it, though he can't exactly figure out why, and her hair is curled at the ends.
He knew she was hot, but this is a totally different look, and he's all over it.
They stand in the doorway to the living room to tell Jeff and Regina good night (Rachel gets the same 'let us know if you won't be home' line as last time). He ends up wrapping his fingers around her wrist as he leads her out the front door, pushing her up against the wall next to it once she's got it closed behind her. "Hi."
She giggles a little, bringing her free hand up to push her bangs out of her eyes. "Hi."
He kisses her gently, his hand sliding over the smooth fabric of her top to rest at her hip. "You know how hot you look right now?" he mumbles against her lips.
She hums a little. "No. Tell me."
He pulls back so he can smirk at her, loving the way she's looking at him from beneath her eyelashes. "So fuckin' hot, baby."
She tips her head up to kiss him again, barely more than a peck, then pushes past him and skips down the front steps. He kind of wants to ask her how girls do that shit in heels. "Coming?"
They're the last ones to get to the bar. Santana, Artie, Matt, and Tina, Matt's girl, are sitting at a couple of high tops they've pushed together, and a guy Puck recognizes as a regular is up on stage belting "Roxanne." They sit so Rachel's between him and Santana, and Rachel turns to him. "I already love this place," she admits, eyes bright.
"It gets better," he assures her.
He means it. This place would be the shit if they could drink, but it's pretty good sober, and with Matt's parents randomly showing up, it's not like they can even get away with pregaming. The reason it's fun though is because they sing.
Like, all of them.
He can tell Rachel's surprised when Artie goes up and sings "Walkin' In Memphis." Surprised and like, super-excited, because she cheers louder than anyone and basically jumps on the dude when he walks back from the stage. Santana sings "Drunk Girl," which Rachel apparently loves even without knowing the (kind of hilarious) back story.
She's toying with the straw in her ice water when she turns towards him so her knees are between his, smiling at him a little. "Is it your turn next?"
He shakes his head, looking over hers at the totally wasted guy warbling "Sweet Caroline" on stage. "You should sing. Isn't it like, what you do?"
She crosses her legs, her right hand landing on his thigh as she shifts. "Maybe some other time."
He thinks it's weird that a girl who says she wants to sing on Broadway is acting all shy about singing in a bar full of people who are mostly wasted, but whatever. It isn't really any of his business. (It occurs to him that maybe she's lying about the Juilliard thing, making shit up because it's summer and she's away from home, but he doesn't really think she's the type.)
She's totally caught up in a conversation with Matt and Santana when Puck slips away from the table, and he can legit see the surprise on her face when she looks up and he's on the stage. He sings "Champagne Supernova," and he's got people singing along and cheering and whatever. But really, any song with a drug reference is going to get a room full of drunk people cheering, so he isn't really impressed with himself.
Rachel apparently is impressed. She kisses him as soon as he gets back to the table, pushes her tongue past his lips and sinks her hand into the hair at the nape of his neck to keep him close. She kisses along his jaw, then murmurs, "I love your voice," against his ear, her breath warm against his skin.
Fuck. Yes.
"You wanna get out of here?"
She's smiling just a tiny bit when she nods, which is weirdly hot, and he's hoping she wants to get naked tonight, honestly. Maybe that makes him an asshole, but whatever. She keeps doing shit that makes him want her; it's not like he can help it.
"I didn't know you could sing," she says. They're walking down the sidewalk to where his Jeep is parked a few blocks down, and it feels really quiet compared to how loud the bar was. He just shrugs. She grabs his hand, prompting him to slow his pace a little, and she's looking at the ground when she says, "It's incredibly sexy."
"Yeah?"
She nods, then stops walking. She looks nervous when he turns to ask her if something's wrong.
"I'm not going to have sex with you tonight."
Oh. Well.
"Okay."
"I mean, it's just too soon." She lets out a little breath, like she's annoyed with herself. "I just dealt with this thing and...I'm not looking for anything, Puck."
"Okay." That's fine. He really doesn't understand why they're having this conversation now, here. They haven't talked about anything like this at all. "Did some guy like, break your heart?"
She laughs a little, and it's not quite bitter, but there isn't any humor there. "Something like that." She reaches up to toy with the pendant on her necklace, a delicate little gold star. "Just...not yet."
He can be patient for a little bit, so he nods, takes a step closer and takes the hand hanging by her side, strokes his thumb over her palm. "You think we could do something else?" She smiles slowly, then nods. "Yeah?" He moves closer to her, puts his hand over the one she has toying with her necklace, the skin of her chest warm under his fingers. "Will you let me touch you?"
Her eyes flutter closed before she nods, and she laughs when he tells her that he needs her naked on his bed five minutes ago.
He's not really joking.
Rachel can tell the house is empty when she wakes up on Sunday morning. It was late when she got in last night, and the sun is streaming through the window because she forgot to close the blinds before she fell asleep. She stays in bed, stretching out on her side and watching the branches of the oak tree outside the window wave, casting shadows on the ceiling.
Last night was...well, to say that Puck is good with his hands would be an understatement.
The only thing keeping her from sleeping with him is the fact that she's known him for just two weeks, and Rachel Berry isn't the girl who sleeps with a boy she barely knows.
Of course, she's apparently the girl who'll let a boy she barely knows put his hand in her panties, so maybe she's exactly that girl and just hasn't given in yet.
She doesn't know that she's ever been this attracted to someone this quickly. She was with her ex-boyfriend for nearly two years, and yes, their relationship began with her complete infatuation with him, but it's not the same as this pull she feels towards Puck.
Noah. She'd asked his first name last night when he was pressing her back into his mattress, his fingers working the button of her jeans. He'd laughed against her neck - which made her moan - as he told her his given name, murmured that it would sound 'fuckin' awesome' when she moaned it. She can't really be objective about it, but she liked the way the name felt on her lips when she fell apart around his fingers.
She knows she needs to be careful here. She has a terrible habit of idealizing and romanticizing the boys she's attracted to, ignoring their bad qualities and building these overblown fairytale-style fantasies, and she doesn't want to do that with Puck. She's had fun with him and wants to spend more time with him, but she isn't going to delude herself into thinking this is something more than it is. It's just a summer fling, not a thing, and she refuses to let herself forget that.
Right now, she doesn't think there's any danger of her doing anything silly like falling in love with him. He's certainly charming, and she likes spending time with him, but there isn't really anything emotional between them. Honestly, they don't really know that much about each other, which is probably for the best if she's going to engage in this physical relationship. That said, she likes his friends, likes the way he seems to be pursuing her (though she's very aware that he's in the pursuit of the physical much like she is).
She's trying to keep things from moving too fast, but he's making it difficult. Not on purpose; he isn't pressuring her or anything, but she very nearly told him to just do it last night when they were both almost-naked on his bed and she was coming down. She stopped herself, bit the inside of her cheek hard to keep the words in and wrapped her hand around him, stroking until he came, hot on her hand with her name on his lips.
She'd asked him to drive her home not only because it was late, but because she knew she would end up giving herself to him if she stayed in his bed even a minute longer.
She doesn't really want to put a time frame on it. It seems silly to go that far, but she doesn't want Puck thinking that this is something she does often. She's not easy, and she doesn't want anyone assuming that she is.
(Except maybe she is; she's already decided that she's going to sleep with him. It's just a matter of when.)
