A/N: Sorry for the wait! Thanks so much for all the support!
He gets up to go after the second movie. It's probably not a coincidence that it's about three minutes after she mentions that her fathers will be back within the hour, but she doesn't really mind, in fact she's surprisingly calm about the uncertain status of their relationship.
Possibly she should be more concerned than she is. After all, they've engaged in activities that include kissing for two consecutive days which clearly means under the dating rules of engagement that they have some kind of thing going on. (Or does it? Kurt would probably know but for obvious reasons, she'd prefer not to ask.)
She's Rachel Berry, she's not casual. She plans her romantic entanglements out in advance, fits everything into her five year plan, weighs the pros and cons of every action.
He's Noah Puckerman. He doesn't.
She's on the verge of entering some sort of arrangement with Noah Puckerman and instead of worrying about whether this is true love or just another iteration of friends with benefits, she's daydreaming about what the benefits might be. (Sometimes it's hard to think about anything else; she can say with complete certainty that they'd be very, very good.)
Truth be told, as odd as it might seem? She trusts him. So maybe she can just take a deep breathe and see where this takes her.
They linger for a few minutes on the front steps, talking quietly. "I'll call you," he promises, and her heart skips a beat in time with the slow rub of his thumb on the inside of her wrist. She leans against the door frame as she watches him drive off. Then she runs upstairs.
(She'll just jot a few tiny questions down in her relationship notebook and they can deal with them as they occur.)
That night, she records 'What a Girl Wants' for her MySpace page. Fifteen minutes after she posts it, he calls her.
"Nice song."
"Thank you. While her body of work may be characterized by showy pop hooks and somewhat gratuitous nudity, Christina Aguilera's vocal talent is...""Seriously babe, you really aren't getting my point. I know you remember." His voice dips down into a lower register and she sits down heavily and a wave of something is rushing through her. (All right, it's most likely pure lust.)
Because with that, just those words and his voice, she's instantly six months back, wearing a skirt that's never seemed shorter and singing into her hairbrush, about to spend a fall afternoon tumbling around on her bed with him. The one she's currently sitting on because she's not sure her legs will support her.
"I remember," she manages finally, her voice almost unrecognizable to herself.
But he certainly recognizes something in it and there's a hint of a groan in his reply. "I should totally come back over."
"My dads are home now," she says a little breathlessly.
"You've got a trellis."
There's a pause as she remembers the last time he made use of her trellis.
He's thinking about it too. "Yeah, about that Rach," he says, "I was kind of fucked up that day. I shouldn't have dumped all that shit on you."
"I was...I was quite concerned at the time, but I was glad you came over, glad you called me." Glad that you came to me.
She hears her father calling from downstairs. "Noah, I have to go. Daddy taped Dad's keynote address and they want me to watch it. And then I think there's a slide show."
"Wild night," he laughs.
"They missed me," she says sheepishly.
It's a little ridiculous, but she sleeps with the phone on her pillow that night.
They see each other in bits and pieces through the rest of exam week. She'd like it to be more, but she takes her studies seriously and she's noticed that he's carrying around a book or two as well.
On Tuesday he kisses her at an empty study carrel in the library, tucked behind the old A.V. equipment. His hands run practiced circles along the curve of her hip, sliding over her blouse along her rib cage and back again until her hands are clutching the hem of his shirt.
Later, she has to close her eyes and breathe in sharply through her nose when Mr. Schuester's Spanish exam has her conjugating 'to want'. She turns surreptitiously back to glance at him, (next row over, three seats back) and he's staring. Yo quiero, tu quieres, nosotros queremos...
On Wednesday night, he's babysitting, so she brings over ice-cream and spreads her biology flash-cards all over the living room floor. Sarah is sitting on the stairs, watching in fascination as he rubs a lock of her hair between his fingers gently while Rachel leans against his legs.
He's ruthless about forcing Sarah to go to bed by 8:00, ignoring "Noah, it's not even dark yet!" Fifteen minutes later after an assortment of threats from both sides of Sarah's bedroom door, he comes back downstairs and a few minutes after that he's laid out on the couch and she's moving against him, flushed and almost panting. And then his hands are stilling her hips and she pulls back to look at him doubtfully, but he's just as flushed and just as breathless.
Driving home later, she's admits to herself that she's confused. She's not stupid and she has a thorough grounding in human anatomy. When she's pressed up against him, she can tell he's wants her. But then he pulls back. And her experience with him (granted only a week, all those months ago) leads her to expect a certain set of behaviors. But there's no 'come on baby, it'll feel so good,' and it's not a flurry of hands and mouths and now, even if the expression in his eyes makes her squirm.
It's more than a little frustrating, this restraint, when she thinks she's ready to have a few mysteries revealed.
On Thursday when Mr. Schue walks in they are having lunch together in the practice room, even though Puck's finished with his exams for the day and she doesn't have Biology until 2:00. He has his guitar out and they're talking about music, laughing back and forth and arguing over the merits of their favorite vocalists and he's threatening (promising?) to sing 'Let's Get It On' to her again.
The teacher's eyes eyes travel back and forth between the two of them curiously and Rachel can feel herself stiffen a little. It's certainly not a compromising position, no clothing is removed or even askew, they aren't even touching, except his left knee and her right since they're leaning in towards each other. Even so, it feels intimate, it feels like exposure, like he caught the two of them kissing. She tilts her chin questioningly at him and presses her knee just a fraction of an inch closer to Noah.
"Hello you two," Mr. Schue says as he advances to the piano and gathers a stack of sheet music. He spots Rachel's lunch box, tucked neatly by her feet. "Ahh, lunch I see. Well actually I'm glad I ran into you, Puck. Everyone else has confirmed for the Glee barbecue at my new place tomorrow night. I'll be grilling up some burgers and dogs and Artie said something about his mom's potato salad and I'm sure you don't want to miss Rachel's delicious cookies." He grins at Rachel and she smiles back weakly as Noah chokes back a snort. "I've even got one of those portable fire pits, so we can roast marshmallows and sing around the fire. Bring your guitar."
Now it's Rachel's turn to hide a grin at Noah's pained expression as she looks up at him through her eyelashes. "It's almost like you think sing-a-longs aren't badass, Noah," she says sweetly.
His quick glare promises retribution but he simply rubs the back of his head with one hand and mumbles, "Yeah Mr. Schue, in general I'm in favor of anything that can be cooked over a flame, but that campfire girl shit is just not on."
"No excuses Puck," Mr. Schue says, cheerfully ignoring the profanity as he heads towards the door. "Rachel, as Glee captain, I expect you to make sure he's there. I'm looking forward to getting the whole team together--I even spoke to Quinn's mother and she's coming too!" With that, he gives them a quick wave and exits the room.
It's not surprising, the silence that follows that, nor she supposes, thinking about it later, that she's the one who breaks it.
"I didn't know that Quinn was back home," she says, watching his hands trace soundless chords on the neck of his guitar.
"I haven't seen her since the lawyer's office. But, no baby, no reason not to be, right?" His voice is level, but he won't meet her eyes.
He leans away from her and puts his guitar back in the case and she shivers a bit despite the warmth of the day. Turning back, he presses a brief kiss to the corner of her mouth and then whispers into her ear, "I should go, babe."
She smiles up at him, just like everything is fine.
It's not.
In part it's her, of course. She's absurdly sensitive to being shut out. Despite her best efforts, it's there in the background a little bit. Jesse whispering 'merely adequate' and Finn valuing his reputation over her. Santana, half-friendly and half-mocking when she advises Rachel to hold on by spreading her legs, and blonde, perfect Quinn, both a rival and a cautionary tale.
Mostly though, it's not fine because he's not fine and she can't do anything about it.
He doesn't look back until he's got one foot out the door. "About the barbecue, Rach? I don't know right now. Call me when you get out of dance tonight?"
She nods and he smiles crookedly at her and disappears.
She meets him on the way home at the 7-11 (and don't think the irony of that doesn't strike her). She tells her fathers that dance class is running late, but that's only going to buy her a half hour or so. At some point, she's going to have to come clean about Noah with them. Or become a better liar, she thinks guiltily. They make out in his truck, his hand chasing across her knee, her thigh, skin pale in the fluorescent glow of the street light slanting in through the window. They don't talk about Mr. Schue's party. Or about anything at all.
She unbuckles her seat belt and leans across to kiss Dad's cheek, carefully balancing the tray of cookies.
"What time do you want me to pick you up sweetheart?" he asks fondly.
She hesitates. "I may be able to get a ride. Can I call you?"
"Of course," he says and she can hear the happiness in his voice, maybe mixed with relief. Her lack of a social life hasn't gone unnoticed. (At least they've stopped asking after Finn.)
It's an effort, but so familiar she hardly registers it, to straighten her spine, fix her social smile on her face and ring Mr. Schuester's doorbell.
Ms. Pillsbury answers the door, looking as precise and neat as always in a flowered apron, but is that a smudge of chocolate on her lower lip? Mr. Schuester walks out of the kitchen with a mixing bowl of brownie batter and a matching smudge on his mouth. "Emma, is this ready...Rachel! Prompt as always! Artie's already here and I'm sure the rest of the kids will be here soon." He peers out the door over her shoulder for a moment as if expecting them to appear on the steps behind her and then leads them to the living room, where Artie is waiting. "I just have a few things to finish up in the kitchen and you two can get the party started!"
"Woo," Artie pumps his fist skyward and Rachel smiles in polite appreciation.
The two adults start out of the room when Ms. Pillsbury blurts out, "Oh, Will, you've got just a little bit of chocolate on your lip." She reaches a hand up and Mr. Schuester smiles fatuously, "You too." They drift in and dab at each other, giggling, before disappearing.
"Oh my," says Rachel, wincing, "that's just...how long?"
"Since I've been here anyway," he says gloomily. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for love, but where's the dignity?"
They've run out of conversation for moment. Rachel has the greatest respect for Artie's talent, but she knows he thinks she's some kind of diva, (mostly because he says it only slightly under his breath every third practice) and she has it under excellent authority that he's called her 'trout mouth.' What? Is she not allowed to hold the teeniest, tiniest grudge? Still, as silence isn't exactly her metier, she casts about in her mind for a topic of conversation.
"So Rachel, is Puck coming tonight?"
Not really what she had in mind, although she's not entirely surprised. Kurt is nothing if not an dedicated purveyor of gossip related to all things Glee and Noah's defense of her was probably considered newsworthy.
Still, the prudent answer is the easiest. "I really don't know." Especially since it's the absolute truth. "Why do you ask?"
"He asked me something about a summer job a few months ago." Artie shrugs delicately. "After every thing that's happened, I wasn't sure if he'd still be interested."
Rachel makes a noncommittal noise, but she's definitely curious. As far as she knows, Puck will be cleaning pools and...actually, they should discuss his summer plans as soon as possible.
Tina and Mercedes and Kurt appear and Tina throws herself on Artie's lap (Rachel notices wryly that he isn't complaining about public displays of affection now).
"Rachel! Let's talk!" Kurt attempts to pull her into a corner and who knows, probably extract information by threatening her with tweezers, hot wax and hair product, when Brittany and Santana arrive and effortlessly extract her.
(What has the world come to when she's profoundly grateful for the arrival of the Cheerios?)
Things are much more enjoyable when the rest of them (almost) filter in, although Kurt is still regarding her with the kind of curious light in his eyes that makes her think uncomfortably of Jacob Ben Israel. Artie plays guitar, Finn uses cooking utensils to bang out a rhythm on every possible surface, and Mr. Schue unexpectedly pulls out a ukulele and plucks a tune. Tina and Mercedes compete to see how long they can hold a note. And when Santana and Britt rush to the door to greet a newly arrived Quinn, Matt and Mike pull her into the center of the room and they dance together and she's having fun, even though she realizes he's probably not coming. (But she can't help hoping. It's her nature to be hopeful.)
And then Mike and Matt are looking over her head and grinning and Mike spins her out just a little harder than necessary and she collides with a nicely muscled wall and an arm snakes around her waist. Noah.
"Nice catch, man," Mike smirks and Matt is regarding them like a benevolent uncle. Clearly the gossip chain at McKinley is ridiculously good.
Noah rolls his eyes at the two of them, but tightens his arm around her and murmurs, "Hey baby," into her ear as the rest of them look on with varying degrees of interest.
Rachel mentally ticks 'inform everyone of the fact that the two of then are very much back on'
off her to do list.
A/N: Yo quiero, tu quieres, nosotros queremos... I want, you want, we want. Apropos, no?