I am determined to keep up these regular updates, so I'm proud that this is coming out on time (only a few days since the last). Shorter one because the chapter seemed to end naturally here. Enjoy!
"Noah!" Rachel exclaimed, giving him a firm kick in the ribs that actually kind of hurt.
Puck an involuntary (and super manly) "Oof!" burst out of his mouth as he caught her foot. "What? With an ass like that, of course I would!"
Rachel shook her head, slipping down further onto the sofa. "Never in a million years."
Puck cocked an eyebrow. "So what would it take to tempt the exceptionally picky Miss Rachel Berry?"
"I'm not sure…" They stared at each other for a long moment. "…but less plastic surgery wouldn't hurt!"
Puck snorted. It was Thursday night, a few months after Rachel had moved in, and the pair were watching trashy reality TV together under a shared blanket on the couch.
Rachel was in a play off-off-Broadway that showed every night. She'd get back around 11-12pm and he'd stay up to make sure she got back okay. It had started simply as a protective thing, but she was always so wound up after her shows that she'd stay up for hours longer; since she didn't have matinees to worry about, lying in the next morning was fine.
So Puck had sat with her and chatted about her day, his day, normal, boring small talk stuff.
Then she'd stick on some TV as background noise when they ran out of new things to tell each other.
Then they started arguing about what they should watch.
Then they got hooked on reality shows. They watched them all: The Bachelor, RuPaul, Shark Tank, Hell's Kitchen, and what they were arguing about now – Keeping Up with the Kardashians.
Puck had claimed that he was in love with Kim and that he would eat literal shit every day for a year to have sex with her once, causing Rachel to gag and ask if he would 'seriously be interested in making love with that'.
Rachel relented. "Okay, she's not that bad. But I still wouldn't have sex with her. Maybe Khloe, if I were that way inclined."
Puck's eyebrows lifted into his hairline. "Woah, woah, we need to talk more about that! You're into Khloe Kardashian?!"
Rachel rolled her eyes and replied, "I didn't say I was into her, I just meant if I had to choose."
He laughed and said in a sing-song voice, "You like Khlo-e, you like Khlo-e."
"It doesn't matter," Rachel stated, attempting to ignore his taunting, "I enjoy men too much to
There was a heated moment where the only sound was the Kardashians gossiping over salads and Puck swallowing.
"Want some popcorn?" He asked, needing a moment so that he didn't feel tempted to turn this conversation into something inappropriate.
Ever since Rachel had moved in, he'd been good – really good – and some days he'd completely forgotten that he'd wanted her as any more than the close friend that she'd become… but then sometimes she'd come out of her room in her tiny pyjama shorts and crop top and he'd have to excuse himself to purge his mind. Now was getting close to one of those moments, so he decided to get a little space and think about other things for a minute.
Rachel watched him go and snuggled further under the blanket. The couch was the best thing in the whole apartment. Finn and Puck had told her that when they moved in, they'd agreed the most important thing they needed was a comfortable couch; after all, they planned on spending most of their waking time on it. From what she'd seen, though, it was mostly Puck who used it; Finn seemed less interested in what she and Puck watched or wasn't interested in spending time hanging out with them… whatever, she loved spending time with Puck – as friends, obviously.
And she loved this couch! It was blue-gray, which Puck claimed made it manly, but Rachel said made it look like it belonged in a quaint seaside cottage with white walls. Puck had thrown one of the pillows – which had been her contribution, along with the blanket that they snuggled under every night – at her and cursed her for doubting the manliness of his couch. She'd giggled at him, and he'd snatched his pillow back.
Puck had been a perfect gentleman, adhering to her request to the letter, which of course made her feel guilty about how she'd made that request… in that it was less a request and more an accusation and a demand. But she… she'd had enough of that.
She didn't regret the intent. She could not be with Puck, it was as simple as that. She was meant to be with a sensible, stand-up guy, and while Puck was certainly less of the rogue she'd assumed he was by his appearance, and he could at times be very sweet, she still needed somebody.
In the time she'd lived there, Finn had turned one of his temp jobs into a permanent one and seemed to be doing very well for himself. He kept trying to get Puck to join him, said his boss liked him enough that he might be able to talk him into giving him a job, but Puck kept on refusing, despite the fact that the temp work he was getting offered wasn't as often as he needed it to be. But no, Puck just told Finn he was following his dream, he was going to be a "rock god".
Rachel got it and didn't get it. She was also following her dream, but she was being practical. She was doing what she needed to do to get by, while still auditioning for every Broadway or off-Broadway show she could. Yes, what she had to do to get by sucked… but she got by.
Puck plonked down next to her, shaking her out of her reverie. "One bowl of delicious buttery popcorn for me," he handed her a bowl, "and one bowl of nasty healthy vegan popcorn for you."
She ignored the jab. "So how was your day? You had a job today, right?"
"Yeah." Puck scrubbed a hand over his mohawk. "Actually, they want me back tomorrow to cover someone else for a couple of days."
Rachel smiled. "That's a good thing, isn't it?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess. They're pretty cool people. They pay me."
With a sigh, she nudged him with a foot. "Be more excited about it, why don't you."
"Woohoo," he responded blandly.
Rachel checked the time. "You should be heading to bed, then, if you've got to get up for work in the morning."
Puck groaned. "Can we just sit for a bit?" He shuffled slightly so that their arms were touching.
He'd been so careful to give her breathing space at all times that the contact was a bit shocking, but it wasn't overtly sexual. It was nice. Sweet.
"Okay." Rachel said in a small voice.
And so, he stayed, and she sat there pretending her arm wasn't tingling everywhere his was touching hers.
"What?!" Rachel's voice cut through the crowd heading down the steps to the elevated subway station, attracting only the attention of a couple of passing tourists because this is New York and nobody really cares if you shout in the street.
"They asked for you specifically, as well." Her agent's tinny voice was hard to hear over the constant mumble of the people around her, but her exclamation had nothing to do with her missing what he had just told her.
"I have an audition for Wicked? The Wicked? And not an open audition, a real audition?" She just couldn't believe it. It didn't seem like it could be real. This kind of thing just didn't happen.
"Apparently they saw you at that festival in the park, the one where you managed to get the lead, and your name stuck with them." He kept on talking, giving her the time and date, and hints he'd picked up from his inside guy as to what might impress...
Rachel could do nothing but blink and keep her feet moving just enough that the masses didn't mow her down for stopping dead in flowing traffic.
"Sound good, Rachel?"
"Jerry… is this it?" Rachel asked, bewildered that she'd come out to get lunch and instead gotten her big break!
Jerry laughed. "If you nail this audition, Rachel, it just could be."
Rachel nodded to herself. "Oh, I'm going to nail this audition."
They hung up, and she felt like she was floating on a cloud all the way home. She considered telling Puck in their nightly session, but she wanted it to be a surprise. She wanted to be able to - out of the blue – tell him that she had a role in a genuine Broadway show!
Oh god, she could quit! This was it!
It was finally all coming up Rachel Berry.
I saw a post written by an upset fanfiction user about Puck and Mark Salling, so I thought I'd address that issue quickly. F*ck Mark Salling, he's as low as they come, the worst kind of scumbag. But Puck doesn't belong to him just because he played him, he belongs to those who created him, and he belongs to us – the fans.
It took me a long time to get my head around it, but I realised dropping Glee and forgetting Puck couldn't hurt Mark Salling anymore because he's dead; it's only going to hurt those left behind, those also hurt by his actions. So, I'm forgetting Mark Salling so that he fades into the nothingness he deserves and I'm carrying on and making Puck mine – as we all do in our writing.
Anyway, this is for me, this is my bit of fun. If you enjoyed this, please let me know in a review, and feedback is always welcome, I am trying to hone my art. Thanks :)
