Prompt:
Recording a joint outgoing voicemail message.
"Hey. You've reached Puck and Rachel. We're not around. Leave a message." Puck smiles at Rachel as she listens to the message but his smile fades the deeper her scowl gets.
"Noah, that's horrible. We need to do better. This is how people contact us! They need to understand that they've reached the right number," Rachel explains as she deletes the message so that they can start over.
"No, babe…if anyone needs us, they'll call our cell phones. Our home phone has two purposes: ordering pizza and getting pissed at telemarketers."
Rachel drops her hand to her hip and glares at him and he can tell that he is clearly an idiot. He raises his hands in protest. "Fine, go ahead. You do better!"
Smiling, Rachel hits record. "Hello! You've reached the home of Noah and Rachel Puckerman. We are presently unavailable because our schedules keep us busy at odd hours, or we might be at home but are taking this quiet time to rest amply due to our aforementioned busy schedules. But if you would kindly leave us a well thought out message including a return phone number, we'll—" The recording beeps, cutting Rachel off mid-sentence. She glares at the stupid machine, a look of murder in her eyes when she hears Puck snicker.
"Okay, we're starting over. This time, I'll say my name and you'll say yours." She points to the machine as if to order him to start recording.
"Fuck, no," Puck protests. "We're not going to be one of those pathetic couples who talks over each other on the machine and then acts all stupid. Record the damn message over or let me do it. The game is starting soon…I don't need this shit!"
"Fine! You record another one. We'll see if you do better this time!" Rachel taps her foot on the floor and Puck watches the flush rising in her cheeks. She's getting pissed and he grins.
He hits record and says into the speaker. "Yo. It's the Puckermans. We ain't fuckin' home. Leave a message or fuck off, we don't really care."
"Noah!" she screeches, diving for the machine. "You're a disgusting pig. I cannot believe you recorded such a vile greeting." She hits the erase button and then shoots him a look. "I'll do this myself!"
Rachel takes a breath, hitting the record message again. "Hello there! You've reached the home of Rachel and Noah Puckerman. If you are calling for Rachel, she is probably busy becoming famous and is far too engaged to answer something as simple as a telephone. If you're calling for Noah, he probably won't get his ass off the couch to answer the damn phone because it might interrupt his complicated ball-scratching schedule. Leave a message."
She hits stop and smiles at a gawking Puck. "D'you seriously just record that shit?"
Without answering, she turns on her heel and flounces from the room. Puck watched her go and then stares down at the machine like he's trying to blow it up with his eyes before following after her. When he finds her, she's sitting cross-legged on the bed, re-arranging the pillows around her in a violent manner.
"That was shitty," he barks.
"You're being an asshole," she yells back. Her chest is heaving and Puck's eyes are drawn to the fact that she's not wearing a bra underneath that tank top of hers and he can tell that her nipples are hard. Ignoring her protests, he pushes her down on the bed and shoves the shirt over her head, latching his lips to her so she can't bitch. In the other room, he can hear the phone ring and then the machine picks up.
BEEP.
"Um… hi. It's…uh…Finn. Gimme a call… Uh… I think… Yeah…"