So, they're a couple now.
Hoorah for them. He feels like such a girl.
She holds his hand sometimes and girls who would usually check him out just don't anymore. She's everywhere, Rachel. That girl is like a ninja or something. (He decided he was going to be a ninja when he was four, and stuck with that until he was fourteen. He still loves the idea.)
But he likes holding her hand – how hers is so small in his. He likes the way her eyes shine when she's talking about something important (well, mostly it's only important to her). He likes how close she lies to him when they go to bed every night. He likes her body against his (even if she refuses to do it with him, but it's still nice).
He wonders if he's turning gay.
But then Rachel walks around in her shortest skirt and no, he's pretty damn sure he isn't gay.
Sometimes they fight. It goes like this.
She usually squeals, "You are so insensitive!"
He rolls his eyes. "You know me. I have needs."
"I'm not a relief for your uncontrollable hormones!"
"You could be, if you'd just-"
It ends here. She usually slaps him, or kicks him in the balls.
He'll kiss her twenty minutes later and murmur an apology (it's definitely a first for him), and just like that, things are better.
(He was only joking in the first place anyway. Kind of.)
They go over their futures again. But this time is different, because something is pulling them towards each other, and something is making it feel like this is a lot bigger than they thought it would be. So now, both of them happen to be in the equation.
"I'm still going to Broadway," she says sternly, being very clear. "Nothing is stopping that."
He rolls his eyes, because that's such a 'Rachel' thing to say. He thinks he might be able to translate most of her language, too now. Maybe he could write, like, a Berry dictionary. So he doesn't accidently turn her down when she offers to get kinky or something.
(Keep dreaming, buddy.) "Thanks, babe."
She bites her lip, because that's such a 'Puck' thing to say. She's getting used to his filthy comments and crass language (in fact, when he calls her babe, it sends shivers down her spine). "But what about you? Do you have any idea what you want?"
He shakes his head and looks away. They watch the sun hover above the ground for a few minutes, casting pretty red, pink, orange and yellow hues over the wide afternoon sky. "Okay, so, maybe I kind of know."
She watches him intently. "Yes?"
H silently wants to bang his head with the car door or jump off the cliff edge, because did he really just open up to someone – let alone Rachel fucking Berry? He likes her and stuff, but he's not sure if he's ready to play Dr Phil with her just yet.
He sighs, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. "I like playing the guitar. I love it. It's so rock n' roll. Plus, you know, I like the way music makes you feel."
Even though she would have said it in so many different (and so many more) words, she gets what he means. Heck, that's exactly how she feels. "And?"
"Well, I'm good at football, but our team is so crap they aren't going to take a second look at me. But I'm good at music, right? And I haven't got much brain, so I was just thinking . . ."
"You want to get into music?"
"I think so. I don't know. No. Yes. I think so."
"You can move to New York – which is good, I'll be there. I'll put in a good word for you at the studios, and you can be the next Neil Diamond!"
He wraps an arm around her waist and smirks. It's funny how she's just got everything so planned out, and he just doesn't. Its funny how opposite they are – but how good they are together.
He blurts out this next bit with no warning at all. His mouth might as well be controlling him. She reckons I'd make a shit father."
"She's wrong, then," Rachel replies quietly, and he wishes he hadn't said anything.
"Wrong? Quinn's right, Rachel, I'd probably be like my dead-beat Dad. I'd probably get sick of all the shit soon enough and do this just when she needed me most. She knew that, and that's why she doesn't want me to go near that kid – my kid – at all."
Rachel feels her heart swell and melt and all that crazy, unnatural stuff. He looks so angry (mostly at himself) and he hasn't even done anything. She's speechless.
But that was kind of the problem: he hadn't done anything.
Rachel's speechless. She really doesn't know what to say (a first for her) so she settles for putting her hand on his. He looks away as if it's all good, but inside he was having a panic-attack and he might just have spontaneously combusted if she hadn't brought him back to Earth soon.
"Don't listen to her, Puck. You're a team leader, right? You play a lot of football, and you have ideas in Glee club, and you're a good young man. You would make an excellent father, I think."
He looks back at her and says, "You know I like it better when you're speechless, right?"
She rolls her eyes at him and laughs a little. All this fresh air must be getting to her head.
"Hey Puck?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you sing Sweet Caroline for me?"
He does, but he only hums it quietly under his breath. It's enough to make her sleepy, and she falls asleep in his lap. He doesn't have the heart to move her.
(He doesn't want her to move).
He thinks that, maybe, a future with Rachel in it might not be so bad.
To those who read these things (I know there isn't a lot),
So yeah. School is bat-shit crazy right now. I have four English drafts due within the space of three weeks, one science assignment, one Careers assignment (that I should really get a start on), one SOSE (I swear the teacher is the Wicked Witch of the West) and one maths assessment.
But hooray for long weekends!
I know most of you probably don't care. Heck, even I wouldn't read my rambling.
But please note, I have a Quinn one-shot coming out soon. It's angst (which is sort of my specialty).
She's my favourite, and all I've done so far is PR. So I thought I'd give it a shot.
