Rachel decides its time for another clothes-washing run (the seventh, if she's correct) so she heads of to the local public laundry with two baskets of clothing.
Its kind of nice to be able to think without Puck there, and its kind of nice for him to be able to just lounge around and not think or worry about her (he doesn't mind worrying or thinking about her, it's just a nice change).
After about half an hour though, he gets bored and decides to borrow her CDs. He's never been one for Broadway, much, but he gets what she means when she says she can just picture herself up on stage.
Listening to her music like some stalker gets him thinking on how this even became considerable. A while ago, he would've rather stabbed needles into his eyes than bring along Rachel Berry for a summer road trip.
The start of their I-can-stand-to-be-in-the-same-room-as-you relationship kind of went like this:
She was crying in the car park one day (because even performers drop the façade every once and a while) and he noticed her on his way out of school. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and straightened up, as if to keep whatever dignity she had. Puck snorted and told her to get the hell in his truck or he might just run over her.
She couldn't be sure whether he was joking, because he seemed in a particularly bad mood.
"Suck it up for a second, Berry; we're going to get some nachos."
Seeing his expression, she swallows her retort.
So he buys her some nachos and they sit in a dingy little Mexican place, watching little Mexican men dance lamely. She doesn't speak, because she can still feel the slushy setting in her hair. He doesn't speak either, because he's just had (another) fight with Quinn over her dumbass who's-the-baby-daddy drama.
She guesses it's time to go, though, when he jumps up and steals a Mexican midget's sombrero.
It leads to a very small foreign man screaming at the two of them as they race out the door.
Yeah, that's where it all started.
She comes back, armed with clean clothes, and he's kind of grateful. For some sick, twisted reason, it's become necessary for her to be around for him to be able to have a good time.
Man that sucks.
-
They drive along a beach one afternoon and she begs him to pull over. He's glad she did, because he's never liked being at the beach more. They sit along the waters edge, and just talk for a while.
"You really aren't such a Neanderthal, Puck."
He thinks it's a compliment. "Yeah, you aren't that annoying anymore either."
She flicks some sand at him while his mouth is open, and it tastes like salt and fish and dirt all in one. He raises an eyebrow – did she dare just challenge him to a sand fight?
He throws a fistful at her, causing her to squeal, throw her shoes off and run in the other direction. Before he really knows what he's doing, Puck sprints after her, because no one messes with him (not even Rachel Berry). He tackles her to the ground and sprinkles sand over her face, causing her to choke and splutter from both laughing and the sand.
"Stop! Please get off me!" she pleads, panting.
The moment slows down a little again and he's on top of her, breathing heavily. Her chest heaves and the friction between their bodies is too much. She rolls out from underneath him, straightening her dress and looking away.
Is it wrong that he wishes she hadn't moved?
They order fish and chips and sit in the back of his truck, looking up at the sky.
"I really don't want to go back to another motel," she sighs, stretching. "I wish we could stay here."
"Yeah, I know what- I know what you mean," Puck says, stifling a yawn. The little light flicks inside his head as he jumps off his car and opens the back door, pulling out some blankets. "Why don't we just stay, then?"
She gives him an unsure look. "I don't know . . ."
"Come on, Rach'! This is perfect! We can, like, stay out here under the stars and all that shit. It'll be awesome!"
She's still thinking over the fact that he called her Rach'.
He sits back on the back of his car and lies down with his head on his bag. "It's pretty comfy, you know, and you can see all the stars."
"Oh," Rachel says thoughtfully. "But what if we get attacked in the middle of the night?"
Puck scoffs. "By what? Truck-sized flies? Or how about walking dolphins?"
She frowns at him and lies down on the back of his truck. It is pretty nice with the breeze in her hair and the sky right above her like an open book.
"That one is called Pegasus, you know," she says matter-of-factly.
He didn't know that, actually. "Now this is camping – and we aren't in hotels anymore, are you happy yet?"
She sighs, because he thinks she's difficult and demanding (ok, maybe she is a little). "I wasn't ever not happy. The whole summer so far, I've been happy. I'm happy here, with you."
She's really glad he's looking the other way, because that was sort of embarrassing. He doesn't say anything in reply.
They fall asleep debating about music again. Somehow, his arm ends up draped over her stomach and she ends up a lot closer than she was when they first lied down. The best thing?
Neither of them thought about Quinn or Finn or Rosie Fabray all day, which was the whole point.
A/N: Aw (:
