A/N: Thanks to everyone who stuck with me despite the extra long gap between updates. Readers = love.
Puck vaulted up the front steps of Kurt's apartment building and made it to the front entry just as a resident was on her way out. He caught the door before it shut closed and let himself inside the spacious foyer. He jogged passed the unattended security desk towards the elevator and pressed the number for Kurt's floor impatiently, his leg twitching as the doors closed behind him and made a slow ascent up to the 11th floor.
The elevator ride was long and torturous, and by the time he reached his destination Puck felt as though the last 2 minutes of his life had stretched out into an eternity. The doors had barely opened before he was slipping through them and jogging again towards apartment 11B where he immediately knocked sharply on the wood, and then barely five seconds later, rapped louder again.
Less than a minute had passed before Puck was gritting his teeth and taking a step back, not content to wait even a second longer. He eyed the door, judging it to be about three inches thick, and was sure he could kick it down on the first try. He took a deep breath as he squared his shoulders and was just about to count down from three when the door swung open, revealing an irritated Kurt.
His frown gave way to a look of surprise and then caution as he glanced at Puck's face. He opened his mouth - to say what he wasn't sure - when Puck strode straight past him and into the apartment without a word, disappearing around the corner and down the hall to where an internal radar was telling him he could find Rachel. Kurt closed the door and hurried after him, stopping short as he saw Puck pause in the doorway of the den. His eyes were trained on Rachel who was sitting on the chaise lounge watching the Sound of Music, silently mouthing the words and blissfully ignorant of their presence. The lights were turned down low but the flickering of the television illuminated her face and from this angle, her profile was clearly visible; so was her swollen and bruised cheek.
"Son of a bitch!" Puck cursed loudly. Both Rachel and Kurt jumped at the unbridled fury in his tone. The glass of water Rachel had been holding went flying, smashing against the side of the coffee table as it dropped from her suddenly limp fingers and clattered loudly onto the wooden floorboards.
"Noah!" Her eyes flew to his and their gazes locked.
"So it's fucking true," he ground out, barely keeping himself in check as he approached her slowly. He had heeded Quinn's warnings and tried to remain calm, but that was before he'd come face to face with Rachel's injury.
She watched him warily, unconsciously tugging the blanket that had been draped over her lap higher, as if it could protect her from the anger that was rolling off of him in waves. The shattered glass crunched under his boots as he came to stand in front of her. Puck crouched down and reached his hand out to touch her face. He didn't miss the way she flinched. She held her breath as his warm palm cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking lightly over her discolored skin. She hissed at the contact and his expression changed. His eyes softened, compassion vying for dominance now as he pushed away the rage he felt towards her husband and focused on the women in front of him.
"Fuck Rach," he murmured, unable to look away from the melange of purple, blue and black. "Fuck."
"How did you know?" She whispered, her fingers curling into a ball, the blanket bunching in her fists. "Quinn?"
"Charlotte," he corrected. When her eyebrows shot up in surprise he explained, "she said you had a boo-boo." He paused for a beat, "I thought I should kiss it and make it better."
The corner of her lip lifted marginally and he was glad he could make her smile, if only for a second. "I'm gonna fucking kill him, you know that right?" He told her seriously, rising slightly to sit on the edge of the sofa, his knees pressed against her thigh. Despite her insistence the night before that she didn't want him to know about her situation and she didn't want him involved, Rachel felt an immeasurable amount of relief now that he was there. She leaned into his side and his arms automatically came around her, holding her to his chest.
"No you won't," she said softly, resting her uninjured cheek on his shoulder, the soft material of his plaid shirt tickling her skin. She felt the steady thump of his heart under her palm and sighed inaudibly; she was so tired, having barely managed to sleep a full R.E.M cycle the night before. Between Quinn's visit that afternoon and Kurt's incessant hovering she'd been unable to nap and truthfully, couldn't relax enough to fall asleep anyway.
But with Puck beside her, she felt the tension drain from her body as she soaked in his warmth. He was so comforting, so large and protective - he instantly made her feel safe and she knew that with him there, she was. It was ridiculous, she knew, to feel so jittery and afraid when she was in the comfort of Kurt and Brad's home, but that's how she had felt from the moment she'd turned to see Michael standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She loathed playing the role of damsel in distress and was anxious to shake the feeling.
"I fucking will," he was arguing, running his fingers through her hair. "He's such a fucking weak bastard. Let's see how tough he is trying to hit someone his own size."
"Noah, you're hardly 'his own size'." Rachel reasoned quietly, tracing idly on his jean clad thigh. "You have a good 5 inches on him and at least 30 pounds – I'd wager that's all muscle too. I knowits all muscle."
Puck smirked proudly. Yeahshedid. "Don't care," he replied grimly.
She pushed away from him slightly and brushed the bangs away from her face. "Promise me you won't seek him out, Noah." She requested solemnly.
Both Puck and Kurt, who was still standing just inside the door, snorted. Rachel spared her best friend a glance that said he wasn't helping matters, before looking back at Puck. "Please Noah," she pleaded, "you have to promise me."
"And why would I do that?" He asked arrogantly, leaning back into the chaise cushions.
"Because I'm asking you to," She held his gaze steadily. "My marriage and my divorce have nothing to do with you. I can handle that on my own, with Brad's help of course. He is an excellent lawyer after all, and I trust him implicitly."
"Babe-" Puck started but Rachel held up her hand to silence him.
"Promise me," she asked again. "Noah…" she closed her eyes, gathering her strength for the battle she knew she'd have to wage to have him see things her way. "I have a feeling the separation is going to be messy and with Michael being less than amicable, I don't want you to get involved and give him another excuse to be any more unreasonable that I anticipate he will be. Let me deal with it my way and you just focus on the baby, alright?"
"The baby..." Realization dawned on his face and Rachel looked at him curiously. He leapt to his feet, the broken glass crunching again under his boots as he began to pace. "You're fucking pregnant, Rachel! You're fucking pregnant and he hit you!"
Kurt crept into the room and stood behind the chaise lounge, his hands resting lightly on Rachel's shoulders as they watched him prowl angrily around the room, muttering under his breath.
"Noah-" she reached out her hand to him but he barely acknowledged the movement.
"I forgot about the baby, can you believe it? When I heard he'd hit you I just-" he stopped, running his hand over his face in agitation. "I just had to haul ass to get over here. I didn't stop to think about-" again he paused, turning towards his audience, his hands on his hips and a scowl firmly in place.
"You have to report him."
"No." Rachel shook her head immediately. Her fingers dug into her pajama clad thigh and she took a deep breath. She felt much more together now that she had yesterday when she had this same conversation with Brad and Kurt, but she knew that her grasp on her composure was tenuous at best. It was taking more energy that she had to remain calm and rational, when all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep – and cry - leaving the reality of her situation behind, if only for a few blissful hours.
"Rach, come on, you have to." He crossed back over to her side and sat on the coffee table in front of her, taking her hands in his. Kurt watched him uneasily. That was a five thousand dollar, hand carved mahogany table; it was sturdy, but it made him cringe to see the bulk of Puck's weight perched on the edge of it.
"I'm not reporting it," she repeated stubbornly, while silently willing him to back off. She didn't know how much longer she could hold up this façade of quiet strength when her insides were quivering and those tears that always seemed so close to the surface these days wanted to bubble up in her throat and spill over.
Puck looked over her shoulder, asking Kurt for help with a quirk of his eyebrow. The designer held up his hands, "Don't look at me, I agree with you. I told Rachel the same thing, but she doesn't want to subject herself to the publicity a domestic violence charge would attract, and it's not something she thinks she'll be able to deal with right now."
Puck sighed looking back at her, "Rachel, this is stupid. You can't let him get away with it."
She stared at him mutinously, a surge of anger unexpectedly flaring up. "It's not your decision to make." She felt as though his protests were an attack of her ability to make the right decisions for herself and by extension, their baby. She had spent so long in a relationship where her opinions were discounted and she hadn't been in control of her own life for longer than she cared to remember. She was tired of being submissive and letting others decide what was best for her, and she resented the implication that she was stupid for disagreeing with her friends who had never suffered through the humiliation and speculations that she had been subjected to these past few years.
She and Michael had given people in their social circles enough gossip to last a lifetime; she didn't intend to provide them with anymore if she could help it. If seeing Michael walk away from their marriage with his reputation intact was the price of ensuring their dirty laundry wasn't splashed through the papers, well, then that was the price she had to pay.
Puck eyed her thoughtfully, recognizing the determined glint in her eye. He shifted restlessly, wanting to shake her or yell at her for being so fucking stupid, but on some level he knew what she was saying to be true. He didn't have the right to tell her how to handle this; didn't mean he couldn't try and make her see reason though. Grudgingly too, he was inwardly please to see her regain some of that spark she had lost, even if that stubbornness was directed at him.
"It's fucking shit to even suggest this, but don't you think you could use what he did to you to your advantage?" His gaze again came to rest on her battered face. The skin was tight and shiny and from his involvement in underground fight club back when they were teenagers and the fact that his badassness had led to smack downs on more than one douche bag in his time, the deep bluish-black tone told him exactly how much force had been behind that punch. His fingers tightened over hers as he ground his teeth and Rachel shivered; from his pinched expression she thought Michael should start praying he never ran into Noah in any deserted alleyways.
"You're worried he's going to slander you and make it impossible for you to work, right?" It was a struggle to make his tone seem calm and collected when rage was the most prominent emotion he was feeling at that moment. "Well, how about pre empting that? I think those directors and casting agents would think twice about listening to anything a fucking wife basher had to say."
Kurt had been thinking along the same lines but he knew Rachel, she wouldn't want people pitying her or worse, being seen as a victim – her motto was never let them see you break. He suspected that attitude had started in high school when she had to arm herself against the taunts and the harassment, ironically predominantly thrown at her by the man sitting in front of her in his den.
She was silent, staring at their hands and when she looked back up at him, his gut clenched at the sheen of tears she saw in her eyes. "I can't."
"Why babe?" He asked gently, mindful of Quinn's warning of not to push her. Rachel could only shake her head and he sighed inaudibly. Quinn had been right; Rachel was fragile right now, and it sickened him to his core. He'd held onto this image of Rachel over the years of how she'd been when they were teenagers – loud, abrasive, and unwaveringly strong. Seeing her now, literally battered and broken, made him homicidal. What kind of man would raise his hand to a woman, especially one so beautiful and fucking tiny as her? Puck couldn't shake the image of her sprawled on the ground with that fucker standing over her, and he swore under his breath. He moved back to the sofa and pulled her back into the protective circle of his arms.
"He's not going to hurt you again, baby. I promise. He'll have to go through me first and you know I'll fuck him up if he tries."
"I know that, Noah. Thank you," she said quietly, wrapping her arms around his waist as she curled up next to him. "I just don't think I can cope with the drama of it all. I'm so emotionally spent, I just need a break; I need to disassociate myself from it. I need out of that world for a while."
Puck looked up and Kurt and asked him wordlessly to give them some privacy. Kurt hesitated then nodded slightly, tip toeing from the room and closing the door quietly behind him.
"Why didn't you want to tell me?" He asked when he couldn't contain it any longer. If he was honest, he was pretty fucking pissed off. He was her baby daddy; he spent the last couple of the weeks trying to convince her that she could count on him to support her, and when the first real test of that promise had come along she hadn't allowed him the opportunity to prove himself. He wanted to resent her for the guilt that was starting to eat him up – he knew it was a mistake to think she could deal with her husband on her own - but when he looked down into her dark brown eyes, all he could do was brush a gentle kiss to her temple. "Rach, you should have called me." He stroked his fingers over hers and waited patiently.
She sucked her lip between her teeth and shrugged slightly. "I felt like this was something I needed to deal with on my own. And maybe-" she paused, collecting her thoughts. "Maybe I just didn't want to bother you."
He pulled back and gave her an incredulous look. "What the fuck kind of answer is that?"
"Noah," Her voice was soft, "I don't know what we're doing here. We're having a baby but we're not in a relationship. I'm married-"
"To a fucker," he interjected, "A fucker that hit you. And you're divorcing him, as soon as fucking possible." He told her gruffly, pointedly.
She didn't disagree, she just moved the conversation along. "I'm not entirely sure where the lines are with us. We've agreed to raise a child together, we kiss sometimes," she caught his look and rolled her eyes. "Alright, perhaps we do more than just that, more often than not in inappropriate settings," she smiled briefly at his smirk. "But I don't know what we are, Noah. Truthfully, we don't even know each other. Not anymore, not really. It didn't feel right to call you about this. You couldn't do anything."
"I could be here," her countered, unexpectedly hurt by her explanation. "I could be doing this." She didn't ask what 'this' was. She knew. He was here, holding her hand and caressing her spine – comforting her in a way that no one had been able to since the 'incident' as she dubbed her confrontation with Michael.
"You could be right," she admitted, "I like this." She admitted, her hand tightening in his shirt. He smelled so good and his body was so firm and solid against her, she wondered if it would be too much to ask if he stayed the night with her. Waking up the other day and knowing that he had been in bed with her had been heaven, and right now she couldn't think of anything else she wanted more than to be lying in his arms breathing him in and forgetting everything but the life they had created together.
"That's bullshit, Rach. You know me, and I know you. I want you to know you can count on me. If you hurt, I'm gonna bust some skulls. S'always been that way" He reminded her, running his fingers through her hair.
And it had been. He had been her champion on more than one occasion. Throwing Jacob Ben-Israel into lockers for attempting to take naked pictured of her was one thing, but he had been willing to defend her to Jesse, when the former Vocal Adrenalin lead had tried to sell her soul to a bunch of chickens. And they hadn't even been what she considered friends back then. He had always had his fists on standby when her honour needed defending – even when his defense of her put his popularity in jeopardy and strained his relationships with his team mates and people he had formerly considered friends.
Dave Karofsky had been a jock Puck had never considered a friend, but he had always tried to remain on good terms with the hockey player whose reputation as the school's biggest bully had often undermined Noah's own badass status. Puck hadn't hesitated to break the unspoken treaty though when Dave and convinced her to go on a date with him during their Senior year and the next Monday at school, had practically mauled her in the hall between classes. Evidently Puck didn't like the surprised squeak she had let out at the contact and the fact that her quiet "David, please don't touch me like that," hadn't seen the hockey player unhand her fast enough. Karofsky had needed three surgeries on his face when Puck was done with him, and even then his nose was never as straight as it had once been.
She could list individual instances for days of where he had come to her aid, because the fact of the matter was that he had always been protective of her. She should know better than to think that would change just because they were older and theoretically she could take care of herself. He would argue that point anyway, given there was a bruise on her face that suggested otherwise.
"We're supposed to be a team now, you and I," he continued, "and like it or not, I'm already involved in this mess with the douchebag. Who the hell do you think dumped you right in the middle of it anyway? Me."
"Can we not do this again? Please don't say that." Rachel chastised, frowning up at him.
"Say what?" He asked cluelessly.
"My marriage to Michael was ultimately always going to end in divorce court. I don't want us to talk negatively about our situation, about how we got here. I want our baby to know that while his or hers conception may not have been conventional or planned, we still wanted them."
"Rach, you know I'm happy about the baby." He skimmed his palm over her jaw. "I'm just saying that you can't shut me out because you want to handle your divorce and the fuckwit by yourself. You should have called me. I would want you to call me if you need anything."
"Ok," she accepted quietly.
His eyes searched hers, "Ok?"
Rachel nodded resting her head back against his shoulder. "In hindsight I admit I should have called you. I miscalculated the role you have in my life now; I just didn't want you to see me like this."
His cheek rested against the top of her head. "Like what, babe?"
She drew in a breath, "Weak."
He sighed, "Babe, we've been over this. You're not weak."
"I feel like I am," she admitted quietly. "I'd do anything to not have to face him again. I've been afraid to close my eyes in case I wake up and I'm back there in the penthouse, living under his thumb, too afraid to assert my opinion over anything – our marriage, my career…..how did I end up like this?"
"Baby," he murmured, caressing her cheek gently.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" She asked tremulously, her exhaustion apparent.
"Yeah," he dipped his head. "But not because I think you're weak and you need me." He told her seriously, brushing the dark hair back from her face.
"No?" she smiled indulgently, "Then why?"
Puck shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I'll let you in on a secret: I like to spoon." He winked and Rachel laughed, and then yawned. He checked his watch and saw that it was just shy of nine o'clock. "Whoa, right on schedule. It's past your bedtime, babe."
She elbowed him good naturedly, feeling a hundred times better just having him in the same vicinity as her, and he chuckled. He stood up and felt the glass crunch again under his boots. "Fuck, gotta clean that up." He muttered. He eyed her bare feet, his gaze resting on the red polish on her cute little toes before he lifted her up with strong arms and carried her towards the door.
"What are you doing?" She asked in surprise, looping her arms around his neck.
"Don't want you to cut yourself. Where are we sleeping?" Rachel directed him to Kurt's studio that was doubling as her bedroom for the time being. Puck looked around the room noting that the bed was barely visible amongst Rachel's belongings and the rolls and rolls of fabric that swamped the room. Rachel followed his gaze.
"It's just temporary, until I work something out." She said complacently when she saw his frown.
Puck dropped her carefully on the small futon bed and told her he was going to clean up the glass in the den while she got ready for bed. She nodded and offered him a small smile as he left.
As soon as he stepped out of the guest room and shut the door behind him, he was accosted by Kurt who grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him away from the door with a strength Puck didn't know the slight man possessed.
"So what's the plan, Rocky?" Kurt asked eagerly, his blue eyes alight with anticipation.
Puck tugged his arm out of his grip; no dude's nails should be that sharp. "What plan? What are you talking about?" He mumbled, starting back towards the den. "You got a broom dude? Gotta sweep up that glass."
Kurt crosses to the hall closet and retrieved a dustpan and broom and followed Puck into the den where he perched on the edge of the chaise and watched Puck sweep up the shards of glass from the wooden floorboards.
"I know you aren't going to let Michael get away with what he did to Rachel, so I want to know what your plan is. Whatever it is, I want in."
Puck sat back on his hunches and looked up, taking in the determined expression on the other man's face and the way his slender fingers were clenched into tight fists. He never would have thought it beforehand, but he figured when it came to dealing with Rachel's soon to be ex-husband, Kurt would make an excellent wingman. At the very least he could scratch the Douche's eyes out.
"I don't have a plan," he admitted unhappily, pushing up from the floor. "You heard Rachel, she doesn't want me to confront him."
Kurt chuckled humorously and after a minute, when he saw that Puck's own lips were fixed into a straight line, the smile on his face faded. "Wait, seriously? You're going to listen to her?"
Puck cocked his head to the side, "You're not?"
Kurt just gaped at him, "But…you're Puck," he said nonsensically, but Puck seemed to know exactly what he was trying to convey.
"I'm not a 17 year old hot head anymore Hummel. It took me a fucking long time to figure out that not everything can be solved by throwing a couple of punches."
His statement was met with a look of scepticism. "Ri-ght," Kurt drawled. "So you don't want to beat Michael to a bloody pulp right now, after seeing the damage he did to Diva's face?"
"I didn't say that," Puck said immediately and Kurt smirked triumphantly and lithely jumped to his feet.
"Right, well. Let me go change and I'll come with you." he looked down at his outfit and smoothed his hand over the wooden toggles. "This shirt is silk, and while my dry cleaner is amazing – seriously, he's gotten red wine stains out of cream cashmere, Puck – I really don't want to test his expertise and see how he fares with blood stains."
"Hold up there, Killer." Puck leaned forward as Kurt went to exit the room, and pulled on the back of the shirt Kurt was so protective of. The action earned him a nasty glare and Puck had to hide his grin. "Look dude, as much as I want to show up on the assholes doorstep and like, remove his spleen with my bare fucking hands, I gotta keep myself in check."
"Why?" Kurt wondered, his eyebrow furrowing.
"Because that's not what Rachel needs me to do right now." Puck replied simply. "Rachel needs me to be right here with her and our baby. So, as much as it kills me to know that fucker is sitting in his fucking penthouse, smug as fucking fuck thinking he's gotten away with this, and believe me," he stopped and ground his teeth together. "Believe me," he repeated tightly, "it is fucking killingmeto leave this alone. But I have to respect her wishes."
Kurt actually pouted and Puck laughed dryly. "I know man, it sucks."
Kurt nodded and sighed heavily, rubbing his fingers wearily against his temple. "You're right, I know you're right," he murmured unhappily. "I just wish she would report him. Letting him get away with this is just crazy."
"Well, this is Berry we're talking about." Puck tipped the shards of glass into a waste paper basket near the door and handed the dustpan and broom to Kurt. "She's always been loopy." He gave Kurt a lopsided smile when he nodded sombrely.
"That's true," Kurt agreed and both men laughed. "It's part of her charm," he added and Puck nodded emphatically.
When their laughter faded there wasn't much more to talk about and they stood in awkward silence for a moment.
"Ok," Puck said eventually, running his hand over his head, "I'm gonna-" he jerked his thumb in the direction of the spare room.
Kurt nodded, "Take care of her," he instructed needlessly; he knew Puck would.
"Sure thing. 'Night."
Kurt watched Puck exit the room and noted appreciatively the way the denim molded to his backside. Good Lord, the man was sinfully attractive; Rachel was one lucky starlet.
Their baby was going to be gorgeous.
***/***
When Puck entered the bedroom, he immediately shucked off his shoes and reached for his belt buckle. Rachel pretended to fuss with the covers so that she wasn't staring at him as he stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt.
"You don't have to come to bed if it's too early for you."
He paused as she said that and licked his lips as he looked at her lying back against the pillows as she waited for him to join her. He liked the way she said that, his mind replaying just the 'come to bed' bit and taking it to a decidedly NC-17 place.
"While a nine o'clock bedtime seems like heaven to me," her voice interrupted his fantasy of her wearing a lot less clothing than she had on now. "I'll understand if you want to stay up and watch television or something. We can't all be tired pregnant women."
He snorted and pushed back the covers to crawl in next to her. She had expected him to turn the single lamp that was illuminating the room off, but he just lay down next to her, his lips brushing just below her ear before ghosting lightly over her bruised cheek. "What are you doing?" Her breath had caught in her throat as his hand tugged at the drawstring on her pajama pants. His fingers pushed her tank top up slightly as he pressed his large palm against her belly.
"Kissing it better," he answered, searching for her lips. She turned her head to meet him and they shared a kiss that was much too brief for Puck's liking. Rachel pulled back and her hand found his bicep, she adored his arms.
"It is better," she told him with a small smile. He didn't look convinced and his fingers returning to her cheek, his free hand still resting on her belly as he hovered over her. He couldn't stop staring at it; the bruise was taunting him, telling him he was too late to undo her hurt, and that it was all his fault. If he had only given into that gut feeling that had overtaken him on Wednesday afternoon that had told him to drive back to her and stay until she was moved out of the penthouse and away from her husband, she wouldn't be lying next to him with her perfect complexion marred by violence.
"Explain to me again why you won't report him," he requested quietly, his eyes briefly leaving her cheek to look into her eyes. He told Kurt that he would respect her wishes and he intended too; he just wanted to understand where her head was at. "Please tell me you're not doing it out of some fucked up misplaced guilt, or worse, because you have lingering feelings for him or some shit."
His jaw clenched when she didn't immediately respond. "Rachel, tell me you know you don't owe him anything."
"I know." She hurried to assure him when it looked as though his anger was returning. "Any feelings I had for Michael faded a long time ago, I told you that."
He nodded, "Then why?"
Her eyes fluttered shut as she enjoyed the ministrations of his fingertips on her face. She was still tender and her injury hurt to touch, but there was something soothing about his caress, she just couldn't get enough of it.
"Why Rachel?" he prompted. "He's going to take everything away from you and you might have an opportunity to stop him. Why won't you take it?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me," he retorted.
She rolled on her side and he dropped his weight from his elbow and shifted closer so he was sharing her pillow. Rachel took the time to stare at the sheer perfection of his features, taking a moment to wonder what parts of him their baby would inherit, before explaining.
"The baby could be my one chance Noah. I feel like it's a fresh start. If I go back to Broadway I want to know that any part I'm offered and the amount of dollars I see on my contract is a reflection of me and my talent. I don't want to have to wonder anymore whether what I've done and all that I've accomplished was due only to whom I was married too."
He rolled his eyes, "Are we back to this, Rach? You're amazing, you know you are. You got this far on your voice and your determination alone. Douchebag might have sweet talked and greased palms to make his own deals, but there's no fucking way that you were going to get up on stage and ever do anything but own it. Whoever cast you in those plays knew that babe; I don't doubt it for a second."
Rachel smiled and scooted even closer, kissing his t-shirt clad chest as she dipped her head. "I like that you think that." she said shyly.
"S'true."
He felt her shrug. "I wish I believed that, but the truth is that I don't. I deserve to be up there Noah - that much I'm certain - but I need to prove to myself that I can make it on my own."
He was silent for a long time. "That kind of thinking is whacked, but whatever. So, he's really going to get away with this?" He touched her cheek gently and she shrugged again.
"And I'm really not allowed to breakhis face," Puck clarified darkly.
"No, absolutely not. Michael would press charges against you and while I have unwavering faith that you're going to be an amazing father, even I doubt how good a job you'll do from the confines of a jail cell."
He snorted.
"You need to let me have this one." Rachel said softly, her face still pressed into his chest. "I really want us to focus on the baby and work out the logistics of raising it together. I don't want Michael to overshadow that for us. He has tainted enough. Please, Noah."
Puck sighed as he reluctantly gave in. Apparently Berry had him wrapped around her delicate little finger – since when had it been so hard to deny her something?
"I believe it's in the pregnancy contract," Rachel replied sweetly. Yes he had said that out loud. "According to Quinn, impregnating me means you need to give in to all of my demands for the entirety of my pregnancy. It's a rule."
"Is that so?" He arched his eyebrow challengingly but the effort was futile. She was his baby momma; he knew he would give her anything she asked for. Apparently, thanks to Quinn, Rachel knew that too.
"Just, please don't feed my kid that Vegan shit ok? He's a Puckerman, he needs meat." He rubbed her stomach and she giggled, her eyes big and bright.
"A Vegan diet can provide adequate sustenance for a growing fetus, Noah." She tried to tell him, "But in any case, it appears you have nothing to worry about. I walked past a restaurant the other day and all I could smell was beef – my mouth was actually watering. I have a feeling I'll give into the cravings at some stage and send you out for burgers. If there was any doubt as to this child's paternity, that indicator should set your mind at ease. This carnivore in my belly is definitely yours."
Her tone was teasing but he couldn't smile back at her, "I know, Rachel. I know it's mine."
Her smile dropped at the seriousness of his tone. "Noah-"
"No, you said before that we didn't know each other but I'm gonna tell you again, I think that's bullshit. I know you're not the type of woman to sleep around and I know that when you told me that night that you'd never cheated, I might have said some things that made it seem like I didn't believe you-"
"It doesn't matter-" she insisted.
"It does," he cut her off. "It does, Rach. I had no right to talk to you like that. It just hit me you know, that you were taken - you were someone's wife - and yet there I was anyway, fucking you." She winced at his candidness. "I thought I'd changed, I wasn't that guy anymore – the one who slept with other people's girlfriends."
"You're not." She ran her palm over his face, distressed to have given him any reason to doubt himself.
"You said that you'd never cheat," he repeated, "And I couldn't figure out why you did. Why it was ok for you to do it with me – aside from the guaranteed multiples that is." He could help but add smugly.
Rachel couldn't bring herself to smile or even roll her eyes in exasperation at his inopportune bragging. "I don't know either, Noah. I just needed you. I needed this." She gestured between them. "I'm just so scared that we won't be able to make this work. Six months ago I couldn't have predicted that I'd be laying here with you, pregnant." She shook her head as if she was still in shock. "Are we kidding ourselves? How are we going to do this?" She was looking at him like he had all the answers and all he could do was shrug.
"We just will. One day at a time, Rach."
"One day at a time," she murmured, clearly unsatisfied by his response.
"What else can we do?" He wanted to know. "We need to spend time together, get comfortable with each other."
She bit her lip, "So we're friends that are raising a baby together?" she questioned, "that's all?" She couldn't mask her disappointment.
He gazed at her speculatively, "Isn't that what you wanted? The other night you told me you didn't want us to complicate anything by having sex again."
"Ever?" There was no mistaking the dismay in her tone and he threw his head back and laughed. She was smiling slightly when his laughter turned to chuckles and then finally subsided.
"Not forever," he assured her warmly, his finger dipping under her waist band of her pajama bottoms to skim along the top of her panties. "Whenever you say the word I'm ready to complicate the shit out of this." It was her turn to laugh as he leered at her and she couldn't help but lean forward and kiss him.
"Good to know," she whispered against his lips. "But I think what I said was an accurate assessment of our situation. We're both going to have difficulties adjusting to the fact that we have a baby on the way. I think anything that happens between us now will make it more difficult and confusing." Rachel ignored the pang in her heart as she repeated a statement that was a paraphrase of one she had been on the receiving end of when she was a teenager, longing for a relationship with a mother that hadn't wanted anything to do with her.
He frowned, "I'm not going to pretend I don't want to be with you, Rach. I do. I kind of wanted that before I even found out about the baby."
His words took the sting of rejection the memory of her mother had caused. Her eyes sparkled happily, "Really?"
Puck nodded, "I came to your show, remember?"
"I remember," she thought back to what had transpired in her dressing room and lowered her eyelashes, a blush spreading over her cheeks. He tipped her chin so he could continue looking at her.
"I didn't go just so I could try and fuck you again." He told her, knowing where her thoughts had strayed. "I just wanted to see you. When that Chloe bitch tried to blackmail you and you told me to leave, I didn't think I'd even see you again. You were married and it sucked Rach, knowing that I'd missed my chance with you in high school and having to accept that I might not ever get another shot."
"We have something here, Rachel. It might just be an insane amount of sexual chemistry but I don't think that's all it is. We could build on it and be really great together. We'll just, I dunno-" he paused, "Take it slow."
"Starting now?"
His gaze fell to her lips. "How about starting tomorrow?" He proposed.
She was confused, "Why tomorrow?"
"Because I want to make out." He told her roguishly. "I told you I had to kiss it better and I don't believe you when you say it is." Once again he trailed gentle kisses over her cheek. Rachel smiled and kissed him back when he found her lips again.
"Tomorrow sounds good," she agreed with a smile as she rolled onto her back and pulled him down to her so he could kiss her more soundly. That night she found out that his lips did indeed have magical healing powers; his kisses made everything better.
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